“Come on, then! Places to go!” -Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor

London has a few sites that I’d call the Big Unmissables and Must-Sees. I count St. Paul’s Cathedral in that list. It’s one of those places to visit that I’d give the whole experience the full five stars out of five, meaning that I enjoy visiting the cathedral so, so much, the whole experience is so perfect, I could go again and again and again and never tire of seeing it. (As opposed to Shakespeare’s house, which I’d give a solid three stars: I’m glad I went but I probably won’t ever go back.)

I don’t know what I can really say about this place beyond how gorgeous this masterpiece of Christoper Wren’s is! I could keep gushing about how much I love coming here, but I don’t know how many times I can say that before I run out of superlatives. The architecture is the most gorgeous; the dome is the most impressive; the black and white tiles of the floor are the most iconic; the elaborate tile work in the apses below the dome depicting the death and resurrection of Jesus is the most stunning; visiting the final resting places in the crypt of so many great men and women is the most humbling.

But I think what really tops everything off is climbing all 528 stairs to the topmost gallery that visitors are allowed to go. The stair count might sound daunting, but I often find the trek up all those stairs very manageable. (I am young and bike a minimum of 16 miles a day, however.) But, if you are even just in moderately good condition, you simply must visit the galleries for some of the most impressive views of the city. The Stone Gallery is 53 meters from the cathedral floor and provides a midway break to rest up while enjoying lovely, lovely views, while the Golden Gallery is 85 meters above the floor and provides what I really think are the best views of the entire city. Beat that, London Eye! (You can’t.)

So, if it’s still not clear: do go to St. Paul’s Cathedral. And then return again and again and again. A visit here never disappoints.

Following St. Paul’s, we made our way to Greenwich via a walk across the Millennium Bridge. We really wanted to take a Thames Link river boat to Greenwich from Bankside Pier, but our Oyster cards didn’t work, and none of the staff were very helpful getting us a one-way ticket. So, we just decided to hop on the ever reliable Underground at London Bridge (but not before accidentally discovering the gorgeous Southwark Cathedral, a modest gothic style cathedral situated near Pickford Wharf), taking the Jubilee line to Canary Wharf (where we got to take in views of the tallest building in this particular district, One Canada Square) and then the DLR to Greenwich. It was lovely taking the DLR, as I had yet to ride the Overground light rails in this city, and they’re just as lovely as their Underground counterparts.

We were due for lunch, so Amy’s Lonely Planet guide of London suggested a place called Rivington Grill, where we enjoyed a decadent, decadent meal, spending more money than I care to remember, but it was so worth it: Irish oysters and deviled kidneys on toast to start; battered haddock, chips, and mushy peas for Aaron and me; monkfish and prawn masala for Amy; and one or three gin cocktails. If you find yourself in Greenwich, do seek out Rivington Grill. So, so good!

Following our late lunch, it was already getting dark at 3:30, so we had to make our way to Greenwich Park with what little daylight hours we had left. Next time I return to London, I want to carve out more time for a proper trip to the park and actually visit the insides of the various buildings here. Walking around and enjoying only the outside, however, did provide a tantalizing glimpse of what there is to discover: a time ball sitting atop the modest tower of the Royal Observatory; the dome of the Great Equatorial Telescope; a statue of General James Wolfe who helped secure Canada from the French in the 18th century; the Old Royal Observatory Garden; and, of course, the Prime Meridian itself, marked by an unassuming line indented into a walk that wraps around the observatory.

The observatory sits atop a really tall hill (the trek up the steep grade of the walk will get your blood flowing) that provides magnificent views of Canary Wharf. Visiting the site of the observatory for this view alone was well worth the journey even though we missed out on a more thorough tour of the observatory itself. Next time, indeed, we will prioritize Greenwich a little better.

What we did prioritize, though, was a really, really special night of theatre. We made our way to the West End (but not before making some unplanned hit-and-run visits to Greenwich Market, an old world clipper ship preserved as a museum on the south bank of the Thames at Greenwich Pier called Cutty Sark, the Tower of London, and Tower Bridge) met up with Marie and Shawn, and arrived at the Harold Pinter Theatre to enjoy the one man show, Ian McKellen on Stage with Tolkien, Shakespeare, Others, and YOU featuring, naturally, Sir Ian himself—a show celebrating his 80th birthday with proceeds benefiting a particular charity unique to each venue.

He began the show reciting the passage from The Fellowship of the Ring where Gandalf commands, “You shall not pass!” in the face of the giant Balrog demon. Naturally, this pleased the audience to no end. The show wasn’t all recitations, of course, large sections of Sir Ian sharing his memories of his incredible life: from the personal and funny (how much he adored beautiful Orlando Bloom; how the Queen was wearing lime green when he was knighted) to the serious and disturbing (how his boyfriend could have lost his teaching job during an era when it was illegal for two people of the same gender to be lovers; how as late as 1988, Parliament passed Section 28 which declared that no teacher may intentionally promote homosexuality). He also managed to make jabs at Brexit (throwing a small, small carrot into the audience during a pantomime skit, exclaiming, “Stick that up Brexit!”) and people who are isolationists and anti-immigration.

During the interval (i.e. intermission), Sir Ian actually entered the audience, shaking hands and saying hello to people. At one point, he was a mere four feet from me. How surreal that was to stand so close to such a person of his prestige.

The second half was more of a game, Sir Ian taking out copies of all of Shakespeare’s plays in several stacks, the audience guessing the titles from memory (we managed to list them all), and he would either regale us with a story about a production he might’ve been in (or not been in) or he would recite a passage from the play in question. We all marveled at how he was able to remember all these passages, Sir Ian himself remarking that at one time everyone needed to remember everything, but today only actors need to remember things since now we have books and the internet.

So, a simply transcendent night of theatre! (Although I must admit that clocking in at 3 hours and combine that with uncomfortable seats and a warm theatre, it did feel a bit long.) However, it was Sir Ian! How cool is that! Happy 80th birthday, Sir Ian McKellen!

And with that, we headed back to South Kensington to our flat, high off of the fact that we all got to see Sir Ian McKellen live at the Harold Pinter. What could possibly top this?

 

“There’s always something to look at if you open your eyes!” Peter Davison as the Doctor

Oh, London! I’ve fallen in love with you all over again! And oh, how I fear that we will break each other’s hearts all over again in a week’s time when we have to leave each other for separate ways. But don’t let’s think of such matters while we still have each other presently. Here’s to our grand old times!

Before we arrived in my favorite city, we had to negotiate some very heavy traffic the closer and closer we got to Heathrow from Hastings. The nearer and nearer we got to the city, the happier and happier I was to leave the car behind in favor of traveling by train. And, at last, arrived we finally did, leaving the car behind and jumping on my favorite Underground line of them all: the Piccadilly line with complete service to Cockfosters. I had long talked to my traveling companions about how much I adore the Underground because of how reliable, user friendly, and timely it is. Unusually, however, we were let down twice on our journey to the city centre: once because the Picadilly train we were on unexpectedly had to terminate early; and twice because a signal was down causing the same line to run slowly. Fortunately, we were able to switch to a District line train at Acton Town, which brought us all the way to Victoria Station without any further fusses. Then, at last, after dropping our bags at the Victoria station temporarily since we couldn’t check in to our Air B&B in London until 3:00, we could enjoy London on foot, taking a walk down Victoria Street (stopping at a pub called the Greencoat Boy, which ended up being our first disappointing meal on our whole holiday) and eventually enjoying views of Westminster Abbey and the Palace of Westminster and Elizabeth Tower (er, “Big Ben,” and all that).

Whenever I think of London, I always think of this part of the city first, especially the view of the Palace of Westminster from the south bank of the Thames, Westminster Bridge reaching towards the north bank of the Thames on the right, which is why it was just so distracting to see Elizabeth Tower wrapped in scaffolding due to a restoration project started in 2017, to be completed in 2021. It’s all necessary work, of course, in order to ensure the tower’s continued existence for future generations, but it’s still frustrating in the moment. And I felt bad for Aaron, Amy, Marie, and Shawn who had never seen the tower before, only to come all this way and still not see it. We’ll have to just come back another time!

After lamenting the state of the tower for a bit, our walk continued north on Belvedere Road past the London County Hall (where we will return to again on Sunday to enjoy an Agatha Christie play, Witness for the Presecution), then past the London Eye (I told everyone they could ride it if they want but that I wouldn’t because I’d already done it, it’s expensive, it’s not really all that exciting, and that better views will come from atop St. Paul’s Cathedral anyway), and then eventually past Southbank Centre (a concrete brutalist structure that I’ve long wanted to visit on account of the BBC using the location in the Doctor Who serial Frontier in Space.)

At this point, it was time to head back towards Victoria Station to pick up our luggage and check in to our Air B&B. Our journey brought us along the Golden Jubilee Bridge (where we met, shall we say, a rather colorful young woman with missing teeth and who, with a breath of booze and meth, asked us if we knew where the connections were), then through the arched passageway of the neoclassic Dover House (which houses Scotland Office, the U.K. government department that handles all affairs between Scotland and the U.K. government), past the Horse Guards Parade and Old Admiralty Building (a large four storey red brick building with an eggshell-hued facade of classical columns that was once until 1964 the official residence of the First Lords of the Admiralty), then by St. James’s Park, and eventually back down Victoria Street to Victoria Station.

By the time we got to South Kensington where our flat was (after a much less eventful ride on the Circle Line), it felt so, so good to have a place to stay for an entire week. Amy, Aaron, and I continued carrying on, however, as we had tickets to see Richard III at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse (the playhouse next to the Globe). But we first went to the connecting Swan where we treated ourselves to cocktails (take note, America, the simplicity of their cocktails, created with fewer ingredients and minimal fuss, allowing imbibers the ability to predict what the cocktail will be like without having to weigh the tastes of 18 ingredients) and a board of cheeses, meats, hummus, lightly deep fried vegetables, and pickled onions.

The production of Richard III that followed was just simply and utterly fantastic. Just absolutely fantastic! “Six thumbs up!” Amy exclaimed. The play featured some inspired casting (Sophie Russell as Richard; Steffan Donnelly as Margaret; and Sarah Amankwah as Edward, to name only a few), but the whole entire cast was absolutely faultless. In fact, everything was faultless. I just can’t stop gushing about how absolutely perfect this production was!

The whole show was lit by candlelight, six candelabras overhead that were raised and lowered throughout the play as the action required (at one point, Richard was able to give each candelabra a gentle push so all six of them swing slowly like ancient pendulums). Musicians sat upstage on a raised platform above an elegant archway that was, at times, boarded up with particle board or draped in heavy sheets of plastic. Richard began the show dressed like a tennis player who might’ve fallen down a muddy ditch, but who—as they grabbed more and more power—would dress in flashy, sparkling, white suits. And the show wasn’t afraid to indulge in some dark humor, Richard often appearing onstage when the various characters were killed off, indulging in—at one point—a mariachi dance and singing a happy celebratory tune. Nor did the show shy away from showing lots of blood, Richard at one point killing a character like a vampire, drinking the blood of the victim, both characters drenched in blood when the task was completed.

And, I’m not embarrassed to admit, that I have a really hard time comprehending Shakespeare. However, the program had a really detailed summary of the play, so I was able to follow along with the summary as the action happened, and—for once in my life—I was able to comprehend Shakespeare as it happened in real time. I might suggest more companies do this very thing. I found it very helpful, and I enjoyed the work so much more.

And there it is. First day back in London in the books. We have so much more to do in the week to come, and it’s going to be fantastic!

“Now, if Harold is king and Edward was laid to rest at the beginning of the year, then it must be 1066!” -William Hartnell as Dr. Who

Our time in the countryside has rapidly come to a close. We had grand plans to see not only Hastings but also Dover (partly because I wanted to see Dover Castle so I could see where they filmed some of The Mind of Evil from Doctor Who), but we severely underestimated how much time we would’ve needed for that additional excursion. So, lack of time and a desire to limit how much we would drive on account of the hours of driving we did do during the last two days, we decided to spend the entire day in Hastings, exploring everything on foot.

Hastings has long been an area of the country I’ve wanted to visit because of its importance in British history. I’m referring to, naturally, the Battle of Hastings of 1066, the battle between William of Normandy and King Harold II when William prevailed and became king of England while Harold was killed in the battle (apparently due to an arrow in the eye) thus ending the Anglo-Saxons’ 600 year rule over England. In that moment, the future of England was changed forever.

Sadly, however, we discovered too late that the field where the Battle of Hastings took place is closed this time of year, open only on weekends. Such a pity, as this will now be the third chance I’ve had to see the location of the battle only to somehow miss out on it yet again. I’ll just have to come back some other time. That said, we managed to have a much more relaxed day while still getting to see quite a bit of the city in the meantime.

Our journey began, of course, with breakfast. We discovered a little place called the Pelican Diner, and it was absolutely wonderful. It’s a tiny two-storey restaurant (each floor capable of seating probably a maximum of 12 people, both floors accessible by a narrow and steep staircase) located right near the waterfront on East Parade, the primary street that traces the shoreline of the English Channel. We all decided to have lumberjack breakfasts, a rather American style breakfast of pancakes, toast, a choice of bacon, avocado, fruit, veggie patty, or salmon (naturally, I chose bacon and salmon), and eggs prepared how you like (I opted for their so-called “Mex” style: scrambled with spicy peppers).

After satiating ourselves to the maximum, we headed towards the waterfront where we enjoyed a cold, windy, (some might call it bleak, but I’d call it exhilarating), walk along the rocky shoreline to make our way to Hastings Pier, a 910-foot-long and 45-foot-Wide boardwalk extending out into the channel. It was originally built in 1872, but by 1990 had suffered major storm damage and was ultimately completely closed in 2008. Sadly, in 2013, a fire largely destroyed most of the pier, but by 2016, it had been rebuilt and reopened to the public. On the day we visited, everything on the pier was closed apart from a fish and chips place called Hastings Pier Chippy (which we opted not to have mid-afternoon beers at on account of the terrible music they were playing), but it was still lovely to visit the pier all the same and enjoy the views of the channel from the vantage it provided without all the people it would come with in, say, July.

Following the pier, we made our way back east towards an area of the city called America Ground, so named because sometime during the 1830s the Corporation of Hastings tried to take control of the area, but it had already been built up by merchants with warehouses and dwellings. The merchants, in an act of defiance, flew the U.S. flag to signify their independence—quite an act of defiance indeed, considering England had just lost the colonies some five or six decades earlier. Today America Ground is the location of quite a few historic sites, one of which is the Holy Trinity Church, a small church built in the 1850s in the Decorated and Early English Gothic style: so, pointed arches, trefoils and quatrefoils, and flying buttresses (Holy Trinity had all three characteristics except the buttresses).

We then made our way all the way to the top of the steep hill where the ruins of Hastings Castle stand (but not before stopping at a pub  called the Clown for a pint where we met an old English gentleman called Ron the Egg, so named because he used to sell eggs at the market and who also laid tiles in a building that was used to film Poirot). The castle is a sad echo of its former self, having fallen into disuse long, long ago. Unfortunately, we could only view the castle from the outside, the grounds closed in the off season, but the hike up the hill was still quite worth it as we were able to view not only the ruins silhouetted against a gorgeous sky but also enjoy stunning views of the channel and the city of Hastings itself.

After taking a pause back at our Air B&B, we concluded our time in Hastings by visiting a pub called the General Havelock (named after a British general from the 19th century), which was suggested to us by another gentleman (not named Ron the Egg) who was earlier having a pint with us at the Clown. Since we weren’t able to see the field of the Battle of Hastings, we were at least able to view incredible tiled artwork that depicted the Battle of Hastings, the ruins of Hastings Castle, and a scene of English fishermen laying into a French pirate ship. The artwork was installed in the late 1800s and created by an artist called Michael Slaughter. Following the pub, we concluded the evening with pizzas at a restaurant called Rustico (it was pretty good!) and a bottle of Armenian wine at a restaurant called the Owl and Pussycat (the wine was good; the live jazz music was, er, fine).

The week seems to have flown by, but I was so excited for Friday morning to arrive, as the majority of the rest for our time will be spent in my favorite city, London!

“Ah yes, but by which route? The direct route or the scenic route?” Sylvester McCoy as the Doctor

Today we elected to drive all the way from Lytchett Matravers to Hastings, a route that would take us mainly along the southern coast (but not near enough to see it) on the M27 and then later the A27—a drive over 130 miles that probably ended up taking us well over 4 hours total on account of rush hour traffic through Brighton. If there’s one thing I’d change about this holiday so far, it would be to choose two places in the countryside and spend three nights in each place—Stratford and then Hastings, say. On account of the limited daylight hours in November and the distance of the areas of the country we were interested in seeing, this would actually end up maximizing the time we have to see what we wanted to see. At the moment, it feels like we’ve spent more time in the car driving in darkness than we have actually seeing things.

So, due to the distance to our next destination, we decided to break up the drive a bit by stopping in Arundel, a town near the coast (but not quite on the coast), located roughly halfway between Lytchett Matravers and Hastings. When the idea of visiting Arundel came up, I became even more excited because I knew that in 1988, the BBC had filmed great parts of a serial from Doctor Who there called Silver Nemesis—a serial that celebrated the programme’s 25th anniversary. So I suddenly found myself getting excited about seeing locations that they used, however insignificant the street corner or stone wall might have seemed.

Upon arriving, we first had a lovely breakfast (we’ve yet to have any hint of a disappointing meal here) at a quaint little restaurant called the Motte and Bailey (Amy and I opting for scrambled eggs and salmon, Shawn a burger, and Marie and Aaron an eggs royale of salmon and eggs on toast with hollandaise). The restaurant itself is named after a tower built on a mound (the motte) surrounded by a courtyard (the bailey) and suggested to us by a pleasant gentleman who we spoke to at the Arundel Museum who also helped us settle some questions we had about how to use our signals (or rather, indicators) as we navigate a roundabout (and who haltingly guessed we were from the U.S., our Minnesota accents possibly suggesting a Canadian origin).

Sadly, the real highlight of the town, the 900-year-old Arundel Castle that loomed imposingly on top of the hill over the rest of the town and which doubled as Windsor Castle in Silver Nemesis, was closed for the winter season. We were still able to take some magnificent pictures of the structure, but it’s quite a pity we weren’t able to explore inside. We were, however, able to explore two other structures, first the Parish and Priory Church of Saint Nicholas, a modest and small little church of grey stones built in 1318, complete with an organ from 1817 by William Grey and Son, it’s pipes colored in patterns of deep reds and sky blues, all set within an elegantly stained wooden case, standing several meters high. The floor was also exquisitely and carefully laid with tiles from the 19th century by Godwin of Herefordshire, the color of wine and slate, arranged in perfect squares situated at a 45 degree angle as to suggest square diamonds pointing the way towards the altar.

Down the same street just barely a five minute walk away is the less modest Arundel Cathedral of Our Lady and Saint Philip of Howard, built in the 19th century and opened in 1873. It is a French Gothic style building made of stones that I imagine were once gleaming white but have since succumbed to hues of pale yellows and light browns as age and stains made their marks with the passing decades. This structure, too, was complete with an organ (but a much larger organ), it’s pipes decorated in ornate patterns of reds and golds, magnificently towering over the space up in the loft rather than unassumingly to the left of the high altar as it was at Saint Nicholas. Also on display were examples of Victorian stained glass humbly lit by the shy November English sun; a limewood statue of Saint Philip Howard himself depicting him with his faithful dog and sole companion when he was imprisoned in the Tower of London; and all fourteen Stations of the Cross delicately inset into the walls.

Before we left Arundel, we managed to take a brief walk through Arundel Park, a lovely and large open green space with Hiorne Tower standing lonely in the distance. It was built in the 19th century, is apparently haunted (if you believe in such nonsense), but was most definitely used in Silver Nemesis as Lady Peinforte’s tomb. After a quick stop at a lovely tea shop called the Tea and Biscuit Club (a small space with barely enough room for 10 people but more than enough room for countless varieties of tea, tea pots, and infusers, where a young gentleman suggested I purchase their black tea blend called Castle Classic after I indicated my desire for a strong breakfast tea), we made our way to Hastings via Brighton where we barely had enough time as the car made its way through the city to take photos of the Royal Pavilion, an impressive structure of domes and minarets of the Indo-Saracenic style popular in India in the 19th century, brightly lit up at night in colors of red and blues.

And after much stopping and going through Brighton’s rush hour traffic, we at last arrived in Hastings where we enjoyed a lovely, lovely meal of meat pies and cheesy leeks at a pub called Albion, where, incidentally, they were also hosting a kind of 1950s dance night, a DJ spinning actual vinyl records as couples danced actual dances based on actual dance patterns of the day (or so I might assume).

Our journey in the countryside sadly will come to a close tomorrow as we finish our adventures in Hastings before returning to London for the rest of our stay (apart from an exciting day trip to Paris).

“A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.” -Jon Pertwee as Dr. Who

Something I always have to remind myself about driving in England is how much longer it takes to travel certain distances. For example, traveling from our Air B&B in Bourton-on-the-Water to the Roman Baths in Bath was a 54 mile distance that took well over an hour to drive. Likewise, from the baths to Stonehenge, 34 miles took well over 50 minutes. These are distances in the U.S. that wouldn’t take nearly as long, on account of England’s narrow and winding roads forcing us up and down steep slopes and dramatic grades—roads that have no shoulder, the edge squeezed right up against tall hedges and old stones walls—roads that also are sometimes so narrow that signs warn drivers that there may be “oncoming traffic in middle of road.” But this is all part of the charm of driving here, and it’s fantastic, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Although, I must admit that driving at night is mildly terrifying but exciting all the same.)

Today we navigated quite a few of these ridiculous roads, taking us all the way from Bourton-on-the-Water in the Cotswalds to Lytchett Matravers near the southern coast—152 miles in well over 3 hours. This distance made it a little difficult for us to fit everything into our day, but we managed it nonetheless. Although I did feel we had to rush through things a bit.

Our first stop of the day was the Roman Baths in Bath (but not before a stop at a lovely place called Bill’s where Aaron and I enjoyed a spectacular full English breakfast complete with black pudding and beans on toast while the others enjoyed pancakes and avocado eggs Florentine). I had previously visited the Roman Baths in 2014, and it was a real highlight of that year’s visit. It’s one of those locations that I would probably consistently award 4 stars out of 5, which means, of course, that I found it really quite wonderful and I’d maybe visit again one or two more times (which, indeed, I now have done). Whereas Shakespeare’s house I’d award a solid three out of five, as I’m glad I saw it but I probably won’t ever go back.

What might be a little disappointing to first-time guests of the baths is that much of what gets photographed (the large rectangular bath filled with steaming green water surrounded by statues of caesars and classical columns) was built up around the original foundations in the 19th century (probably to attract more tourists, I imagine). But this is all beside the point, as guests still have the opportunity to view much of the original foundation while learning about what life was like for Romans in England all that time ago (through a handheld audio tour that I highly recommend and that supplements all the display cases and plaques). This includes viewing artifacts from the time like a sculpture of Minerva’s head that was once fixed to an imposing statue of her entire body, and she would have been placed prominently near the altar of sacrifice. There are also quite a few fragments of the original structure that survive, and the museum has expertly arranged the fragments into where they might have originally been located, a modern image affixed to the wall filling in the gaps. Additionally, there are clear glass sections in the museum floor where visitors can see the hot flowing water making its way to the various baths on the site.

As I gushed earlier, I absolutely adore visiting the Roman Baths. In fact, I might even upgrade my rating of the place to 4.5 out of 5! So, do go!

And on that note, our next stop similarly receives a 4.5 out of 5 from me. I’m tempted to give it the full five, but five for me means that I love something so much that I’d go back again and again and never tire of it, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the case with out next stop, Stonehenge. It’s still quite magical and marvelous all the same, and 4.5 stars is still a score to be proud of.

Stonehenge is so, so famous, so much talked about, so well visited, so imprinted on our collective consciousness, I don’t really know what I can add beyond what you probably already know. There is an audio tour at Stonehenge that I opted not to take advantage of this time, but I still recommend it for first time visitors. In addition to learning about the architecture of Stonehenge itself, the various struggles to restore and preserve the site, visitors also learn about how important the area was for rituals for the early humans who lived here. For example, there are several burial mounds called barrows that Neolithic people created to bury the dead and other artifacts, all quite visible in the distance from the site of the stones. I also recommend taking a look at the museum at the visitor centre (which itself is accessible by bus about 1.5 miles from Stonehenge itself as to help preserve the original landscape; although a busy road bustling with traffic is clearly still visible at the stone circle) where you can learn even more about the history of the site, including the various transformations Stonehenge itself went through over the centuries.

Following Stonehenge we continued on farther south to our Air B&B for the night located in the lovely picturesque village of Lytchett Matravers near the southern coast. As I said earlier, driving in England at night is not for the the faint of heart. It does get quite dark pretty early here, so traveling in November has been a little frustrating as we can’t enjoy idyllic views of the countryside at night, but November has been lovely at the same time, as sites like Stonehenge aren’t overrun with sprawling crowds of tourists.

Tomorrow our journeys continue as we make our way east along the southern coast towards Hastings.

“Genius. He’s a genius, the genius. The most human human there’s ever been. Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words.” -David Tennant as the Doctor.

After a lazy start to the morning on account of catching up on sleep as we adjusted to the time change and jet lag, we headed north from Bourton-on-the-Water towards Stratford-upon-Avon to, naturally enough, explore some sites related to the life of William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway. After a lovely little breakfast at a quaint tea room called Bensons (£5 for a sausage sandwich and tea), we first explored Shakespeare’s house.

Before entering the house proper, we were treated to a small museum that was actually a little underwhelming. The only part that was actually impressive was viewing a copy of The First Folio, which happened to be opened to Richard III (which is the play we’ve booked tickets for at the Globe in London). Otherwise, it was mainly a collection of forgettable items like photographs of statues of Shakespeare on display in various locations around the world, including—of all places—Alabama.

The actual house where Shakespeare was born, however, was actually pretty neat to see, but at the same time it also felt ever so slightly underwhelming. In fact, if it weren’t for the knowledgeable docents telling stories of what life was like living in this house (talking about, for example, how beds used to be suspended off the floor by carefully lacing ropes through a wooden frame and demonstrating how the ropes would needed to be tightened once or twice a week using a special wooden tool), then I probably would have been quite bored. The house itself was relatively unremarkable (and not surprisingly so, as the docent informed us that the Shakespeares were of the middle class—or rather—“middling sort,” as they would have said during Shakespeare’s time), so we saw the way of life of the most average person and not the most ostentatious prince. Even still, I’m happy I made the visit to the house, but if you have no interest in or desire to learn more about William Shakespeare, you may not want to go out of your way to come here.

We next went for a stroll to Anne Hathaway’s cottage. It’s about a mile long walk from Shakespeare’s house to Hathaway’s cottage, and it is a lovely, lovely walk that I do recommend, taking us from the town center (er, that’s centre, rather) through the busy High Street of Stratford and then through a quaint footpath that provides views of tiny gardens behind stone houses with thatched roofs and an open green space called Shottery Fields, to, finally on the edge of town, Anne Hathaway’s cottage. Upon reaching the cottage, we enjoyed views of an apple orchard on the site and mostly empty gardens that would normally at harvest time be overgrown with vegetable plants common to Hathaway’s time but in November revealed fertile, tilled soil.

The Hathaway cottage itself was, well, also pretty neat to see but also still slightly underwhelming, but—as with the Shakespeare house—not so underwhelming that it was disappointing. I’m happy I visited, but this will probably be the only time I ever set foot in these houses. What made these visits worthwhile, however, were the docents. The one we had at the Hathaway cottage was particularly good, an old lady who had no qualms making fun of her age (“Don’t feel like you have to stay in this room as I talk. There’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re chained to a room that you can’t escape from as an old biddy tells you about Elizabethan times.”) and who was filled with such knowledge of Anne’s marriage to William (“She was 25 and impregnated before marriage by a boy toy of 18. I’d like to think they created their first child al fresco in a corn field so as to not alert the locals of their illegal acts, but as I wasn’t there, I don’t wish to malign them.”) and the history of the ownership of the house and it’s grounds.

Following the tour of the Hathaway cottage, we made our way back to the town centre where we made a quick stop by Holy Trinity Church where Shakespeare was baptized and is buried. Sadly the church was closed by the time we arrived, so we couldn’t enter. But, it was still magnificent to see the larger-than-I-expected building from the 13th century silhouetted against a rapidly darkening sky, its stained glass windows glowing softly from warm light from within. Our final stop in Stratford was at a pub called the Dirty Duck located right on the River Avon (which was being visited by an elegant bevy of swans) where we enjoyed a wonderful dinner of ale pies.

Our journey continues tomorrow where we begin to make our way south towards Lytchett Matravers via Bath and Stonehenge.

“This is one corner of one country in one continent on one planet that’s a corner of a galaxy that’s a corner of a universe that is forever growing and shrinking and creating and destroying and never remaining the same for a single millisecond. And there is so much, so much to see.” -Matt Smith as the Doctor

I’ve come back to my favorite country, and this time I’m returning with my sister, Marie, and also my friends Amy, Aaron, and Shawn. This is my fourth visit to the UK and my third visit to England, and I just adore this country so, so much. I never seem to tire of visiting it. It may be one tiny, tiny corner of a huge, huge universe, but for me it’s a special corner indeed. The castles! The stone circles! The tea! The food! The history! The people! The Underground! The tiny streets! The thatched roofs! The sheep! The fog! The Thames! And so much more!

Off we go!

Our travels in England began, naturally, at Heathrow. Marie and Shawn had arrived on a separate flight and at a different terminal from ours, so we had to coordinate meeting each other on our phones through spotty internet connections. Fortunately, Amy, Aaron, and I got on the very van (driven by a lovely man who humored us to buckle up on account of his “poor” driving skills) that would also pick up Marie and Shawn at their terminal before heading off to our car rental. How magical it was, to see Marie and Shawn waiting at their stop as Amy, Aaron, and I arrived! The five of us reunited for two weeks of adventures in England, all of us actually feeling fine in spite of little sleep in 24 hours.

After we secured our car (I get such a kick out of driving on the left side of the road, even while still jet-lagged) we started making our way to our first Air B&B in a tiny village called Bourton-on-the-Water located in the west of England in a picturesque region called the Cotswalds. We were all so hungry, though, from our long day of traveling, so Marie found a fantastic pub in Cumnor outside Oxford called the Bear and Ragged Staff. Their website describes the place as a “glorious Tudor beauty. Ancient fireplaces, flagstone floors and mullioned windows with carved lintels, make the bar one of the finest anywhere.” And, indeed, it’s true. Marie discovered this wonderful little spot while en route to the Cotswalds while simultaneously managing to set the bar so, so high for the rest of our dining experiences. Aaron, Shawn, and I took advantage of the pub’s Sunday roast specials (it was Sunday, after all), indulging in a dish called Aubrey’s 28 day dry-aged rump of beef, served with roasted vegetables & roots and jugs of gravy, while Marie and Amy enjoyed an equally delectable dish of poached & smoked salmon fishcake. Why England has a reputation for bland food is beyond me, because the roast I enjoyed was so flavorful and colorful, no country whose people have a bland palette could possibly have invented such gluttony. (Although, their horseradish was not as strong as they claimed.)

After our Sunday afternoon dinner, we backtracked ever so slightly to drive through Oxford to see Oxford University, and then continued onwards toward Bourton-on-the-Water via the Rollright Stones. No trip to England would be complete without a visit to a stone circle (there are over 300 in England alone and over 1300 when accounting for all of Britain and Ireland). Visiting a stone circle, admittedly, can be hit or miss. Sometimes they inspire and sometimes they disappoint. The Rollright Stones, however, were fascinating and did not disappoint. These stones are actually three separate sites: the King’s Men (dating to around 2500 BC), the Whispering Knights (dating to around 3800 BC), and the King Stone (dating to around 1500 BC). The King’s Men are over 70 stones (if you can go around the circle, count them, and get the same number three times, any wish may be granted, so they say) set in a circle 31 meters across. In addition to a desire I have to see as many stone circles as possible, I’ve long wanted to visit these particular stones, as they featured in a Doctor Who serial from 1978 called The Stones of Blood. And please bare with me, as this won’t be our first visit to a location used for my favorite television program.

Do make the short walk away from the King’s Men to see the Whispering Knights as well. They are a smaller site of five larger stones and were used as a burial chamber over several centuries, even as late as the Bronze Age. Across the busy road from the King’s Men stands the single King Stone, probably erected as a memorial stone to the burial ground. Also on site currently is a sculpture called The Three Fairies, created by artists David and Adam Gosling, an eerie yet calming artwork depicting, naturally enough, three fairies dancing in a circle, elegantly angled as if gently moving with a slow, crisp, autumnal wind.

And that’s our first day in the books, the beginning of many more to come. I am so looking forward to the rest of our stay here, making our way through the southern English countryside this week before returning to London on Friday to spend the rest of our time (apart from a single day trip to Paris) in what I really do believe is the greatest city in the world.

The morning of my last day here, we made our way to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, which is a giant Neo-Gothic cathedral that takes up an entire city block on 5th Avenue between 50th and 51st Streets. It’s a new cathedral completed in 1878, but it is a marvelous sight to behold nonetheless. I always love visiting cathedrals and churches (Westminster Abbey in London was a particular delight), and I’m not sure why. It seems so silly to visit a building devoted to all these mythological characters that so many deluded people still think are actually real. I suppose that even though it’s all made up, it’s quite impressive that such a ridiculous business could inspire all this architecture, art, and music. Humans are good at making things up out of thin air, after all.

Saint Patrick’s is the largest Neo-Gothic Catholic cathedral in North America, as it can accommodate 3000 people. The structure has all the classic elements of a cathedral, and the whole building is intricately designed in marble. Positioned at the usual spot at the apse of the cathedral near the east end, the main altar sits atop a raised, square platform accessible by steps on all sides, and above the altar is a magnificent, golden ciborium (i.e. canopy) standing several feet tall. On the north and south walls of the nave are ten additional alters. The two most memorable altars were the Altar of the Holy Face (complete with one of those creepy images of Jesus looking depressed) and the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa (a famous icon of the “virgin” Mary inspired by the shrine in Poland, a traditional image of a creepy and bored Mary gesturing with her right hand towards an equally creepy and bored baby Jesus held in her left arm). Additional altars continue along the east of the cathedral around the usual semicircular ambulatory, and at the very end of the east end is the traditional Lady Chapel.

We also happened to arrive while they were tuning the organ, which towers over the west end of the cathedral up in the choir loft. Tuning the organ is quite a task, as it has 7855 pipes, But, how I would love to attend a concert or Christmas mass at Saint Patrick’s to hear it played!

Following the cathedral, we made our way back to Greenwich Village to participate in the Original Greenwich Village Food and Culture Walking Tour. And, oh my goodness! What a tour! Before I say anything else about this tour, I just can’t recommend it enough! It was so, so good, and it was such a delight! I think it’s even underpriced at $54, selling itself short of its proper value.

Our lovely tour guide was Robin, and she brought us to our first stop which was Joe’s Pizza. We all got to eat a classic New York slice of cheese pizza as she regaled us of the tail of how Joe himself is from Naples (still alive and kicking in his 80s) and how he learned how to make a New York style pizza using a high protein dough. She also told us of how New York pizzas and bagels get their signature taste because of how the city gets its water from the Catskill Mountains, and the combination of minerals in the water is unique to that area. (The tap water in New York really is quite good. Quite unnecessary to buy anything out of a wasteful plastic bottle.)

Following Joe’s, we made our way to O & Co., a boutique on Bleecker Street that sells top-of-the-line olive oil from Mane, France. As we sampled the best olive oil I have ever tasted (one infused with basil and sprinkled over a slice of a baguette from Amy’s Bakery and one infused with truffles and sprinkled over popcorn), we learned about all the shams of the olive oil industry. You’ll be depressed to know that only 18% of the oil in a bottle of extra virgin olive oil needs to be extra virgin in order to allow companies to advertise the bottle as containing extra virgin olive oil (extra virgin refers to oil that comes from the first pressing of the olive). You’ll also be depressed to learn that companies can say that their olive oil is a product of Italy as long as something of the their product comes from Italy (which might just be the cap of the bottle, by the way). Furthermore, any olive oil that comes in a transparent container like a plastic jug or dark green glass bottle is of the lowest grade because light affects the quality of the oil. Lastly, we discovered that you just should never buy canola oil, and that if you must cook with a high temperature oil, use avocado oil instead.

So, how can you be sure you are buying actual, real, worthwhile olive oil? Basically, you gotta to go an olive oil dealer like O & Co. to make sure you’re buying the best. Prepare yourself for sticker shock, though, as actual, real, worthwhile olive oil is expensive. But, it is so, so good!

After taking a break from the rain at the Cornelia Street Cafe (we didn’t have a chance to try any of their food, but we got to see their underground, speak-easy style basement where over 700 shows happen in a year with poetry readings being especially common), we headed over to Faicco’s (a family-run Italian style deli that has been around for over 100 years) where we sampled their famous Sicilian rice balls. These delectable delights consisted of a delicate combination of rice and cheese and seasonings shaped into a ball, coated with bread crumbs, and then fried. Do go check out Faicco’s when you’re in New York, as you won’t be disappointed. (It goes without saying that every place I’m mentioning on this tour is worth going out of your way for, with the exception of possibly one that I’ll point out below.)

So much more to see as we carried onwards to Trattoria Pesce Pasta, a restaurant specializing in Northern Italian fare in a fine dining environment. It’s housed in a building that still has its original copper ceiling that I couldn’t stop staring at in admiration. However, my attention was quickly drawn away from the ceiling and towards the food as they all brought us our own meatball with red sauce. The size of a baseball, this meatball was the best meatball I’ve ever had, the meat provided by the nearby meat market, Ottomanelli Brothers. Everything on this tour was the best example of whatever it was we were eating, I must say, and I would love, love, love to come back to New York to experience a night of fine dining at Pesce Pasta and rack up a bill of a couple hundred dollars. I think it’d be well worth it.

Our next stop (with a slight detour past the Doughnut Project which wasn’t included on our tour but is included on others, and how I wish I could’ve sampled one of their doughnuts while we were there; so little time, you see) was the Italian restaurant called Rafele. Another example of Italian fine dining similar to Pesce Pasta except in a more open space compared to Pesce Pasta’s delightfully close quarters, we got to try their eggplant rollatini with a glass of chianti. Of all the foods we tried on this tour, I must actually admit that this rollatini (while quite good), didn’t impress as much as the other foods we tried. I think I’d much sooner rather return to Pesce Pasta over Rafele.

Before our tour concluded with three more stops, we went on some side quests to take a look at a few landmarks including Greenwich Locksmiths, a tiny, tiny building whimsically adorned with thousands of keys on its front-facing facade; Manhattan’s narrowest house located at 75-1/2 Bedford Street where previous residents included actor Cary Grant and poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, among others; Chumley’s, a speakeasy dating from 1922 and whose name bares a very similar resemblance to these cute robots from Doctor Who; Grove Court, a row of six, brick-faced townhouses tucked away between numbers 10 and 12 Grove Street; and Cherry Lane Theatre, a box factory converted into a theatre in 1924 and whose stage has been graced by Barbra Streisand, F. Murray Abraham, Beatrice Arthur, and so many others. We finished the afternoon touring Greenwich Village with a trip to Milk and Cookies Bakery, where we got to enjoy a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of their oven; a stop by Murray’s Cheese Shop where we sampled a lovely, lovely selection of cow, sheep, and goat cheeses; and then lastly a trip to Pasticceria Rocco, where we got to enjoy their cannoli, which is always made to order and so it’s never, ever stale from sitting on the shelf for hours.

If it’s not entirely obvious by now based on how much I’ve gushed about this tour, do please go check out the Original Greenwich Village Food and Culture Walking Tour. It was such a joy to listen to our tour guide Robin tell us about all the food we were eating and all the buildings we were visiting. Even my seemingly thorough and overly detailed recollection of the tour is leaving out so many more specifics that I just can’t all fit in.

Feeling quite full from the food tour (I’d recommend going on an empty stomach, as you’ll get to eat plenty of food), we headed towards Roosevelt Island via the Roosevelt Island Tramway. Riders enter a large car that can hold 125 people. Suspended by cables at a height of 250 feet at its highest point, it travels under 20 miles per hour to travel 3100 feet (some of that distance over the East River) from the Upper East Side in Manhattan to the island. The ride provides fantastic views of the Queensboro Bridge, Manhattan, and the river itself. While its possible to get to Roosevelt Island by subway, I highly recommend going out of your way to enjoy the more scenic route that the tramway provides.

While on Roosevelt Island, we sought out the ruined Smallpox Hospital. The main building opened in 1865 and was designed in Gothic Revival style by James Renwick Jr. The two wings, designed in matching style, were built decades later in the early 20th century, the south wing designed by York & Sawyer and the north by Renwick, Aspinwall & Owen. As the name suggests, the hospital was used for individuals who contracted smallpox, as the isolated location on Roosevelt Island helped to quarantine the disease. This building offers a fascinating glimpse into the past, and I wish I could’ve walked around on the inside, but the whole site is closed off by a wrought iron fence as the structure, obviously, isn’t stable.

While on the island, we also admired the nearby Franklin Delano Roosevelt Four Freedoms Park. The park is a modest triangular space of 4 acres, an open green space flanked by a double row of little leaf linden trees. Near the southernmost tip of the park at the end of the island stands a grand, metal bust of Roosevelt that seems to hover within a stately granite temple of sharp, square angles. On the back of the monument is inscribed a section of Roosevelt’s State of the Union address to Congress in 1941. And in these days where we have a president and a Republican party that has attacked, undermined, disregarded, and denigrated the very foundations of American democracy, it’s important to repeat Roosevelt’s words here:

“In the future days which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms. The first is freedom of speech and expression … everywhere in the world. The second is freedom of every person to worship god in his own way … everywhere in the world. The third is freedom from want … everywhere in the world. The fourth is freedom from fear … anywhere in the world. That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world in our own time and generation.”

Evening was fast approaching by this point, and I had different plans from Amy and Aaron. They were off to enjoy Bruce Springsteen in concert (“He broke my heart and put it back together again,” Amy remarked following the sublime evening of music that I wish I could’ve attended), while I was off to the Velvet Underground Experience. The Velvet Underground is one of my all time favorite bands, so I was so excited that I was in New York when this exhibit was open. Except that, sadly, the whole experience rather left me feeling a little disappointed.

Even when staffed with the strongest team of researchers and curators, putting together an entire exhibit about the Velvet Underground would be terribly, terribly challenging. While the band itself was so, so influential on the music that succeeded them, very few physical artifacts exist from their initial existence from 1965 to 1973. That said, much of the exhibit exists as detailed placards, reprints of photographs, audio and video recordings, and the occasional signed album. And gosh, did they comb through every last artifact they could get their hands on. However, their striving towards an absolute, completionist aesthetic resulted in an exhibit that feels very, very schizophrenic as they tried to pack in every last little detail. Which might actually be appropriate since Lou Reed himself (as a video documentary in the exhibit informed us) was believed to have suffered from schizophrenia and who underwent electroshock therapy.

But, I would have preferred an exhibit that had a little more focus. For example, one of the first things we look at when we arrived is an exhaustive chronology smartly printed on a wall that detailed all the art and music that was happening during the 1960. Obviously, the 1960s were a tumultuous time that are difficult to sum up in a few words, but the chronology managed to cover everyone from Allan Ginsberg and James Earl Jones to Merce Cunningham and Edward Hopper. There was just so much to take in in so little space.

The main movers and shakers did get their own focused highlights in the form of giant books that you could flip through that were attached to brightly colored columns featuring enlarged photos of the individual in question. These individuals included (are you ready?): Lou Reed, John Cale, Sterling Morrison, Andy Warhol, Christa Päffgen, Moe Tucker, Gerard Malanga, Danny Williams, Edie Sedgwick, Angus MacLise, Candy Darling, Piero Heliczer, Barbara Rubin, Jonas Mekas, and La Monte Young (and possibly more, but I may have lost count). You could also view some short films as well, including Peyote Queen by Storm de Hirsch, Rockflow by Robert Cowan, Cat Lady by Tom Chomont, and Beatles Electronique by Nam June Paik.

But it was just all so much. So much information. Maybe these are all symptoms of my inability to focus my attention for longer than an hour in any museum, but there was just so much to take in in such a relatively small space. Then again, at the same time, I learned so much about one of my favorite bands, so I’m grateful for that.

My evening concluded with a yummy red curry at Hub Thai in the East Village and visits to some fantastic dive bars in the form of Doc Holliday’s and Manitoba’s before I met up again with Amy and Aaron at the disappointing Frank Restaurant.

And just like that, my time in New York came to a close as I set my alarm to wake up early the next day to arrive in time for my flight out of JFK back to Minneapolis. It’s always so easy to obsess over how sad it is when a vacation like this comes to an end. But, I do know that I will travel once again some day soon. And all my travels have taught me that it will always be fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And the little bit of sadness I feel when it’s over is worth the fond memories I will always have of all my amazing, wonderful, and astonishing adventures on this ridiculous planet.

Stray Observations:

1. NYC often presents challenges in terms of readily finding a toilet. However, if there’s a church nearby, that’s probably your best bet to find a bathroom quickly.

2. While at O & Co, we also got to sample balsamic vinegar where we learned that real balsamic vinegar’s first ingredient on its list of ingredients should be grape must. Imitation balsamic vinegars tend to have red wine vinegar listed as their first ingredient.

3. The more I think about, the more I realize that I don’t think I could ever actually live in New York City. I love visiting, of course, but the city itself is so sloppy, so loud, so busy, and so covered in a thick film of sewer steam, dog piss, and garbage juice. Not something I want to be around every day but something I want to be around from time to time.

I decided to forego posting an entire response (as I promised last time I wrote) to the night we saw Louis C.K. at the Comedy Cellar. It’s not for a lack of trying. In fact, I drafted a whole 1400-word response in an attempt to summarize my thoughts. In the end, I changed my mind and decided that that post will be my own private record of me trying to make sense of that night. I will say this, though. Louis C.K. is a despicable, vile, gross man, and I don’t think I’ll be visiting the Comedy Cellar any time soon. If ever. Here’s a good article by Jenna Amatulli that I recommend you read that actually rather sums up my feelings on Louis C.K.’s attempt to return to his performing.

Anyway, so let’s move on…

On my fifth day here (Aaron and Amy’s first morning here), we made our way to Russ and Daughters on Houston in the Lower East Side for breakfast. As I noted in my post for October 7th, I just love this place, and I welcomed a second visit while I was here. Amy also loves this place, and we were so happy to introduce Aaron to the deli’s fresh selection of fish, bagels, cream cheeses, caviar, and assortments of sweets (including babka, macaroons, hand-dipped chocolates, honey cakes, and so much more). I don’t know how much more I can gush about Russ and Daughters, as I think I’ve run out of superlatives. We enjoyed our selections of bagels and fish at the nearby First Park, so named because it’s right on the corner of East First Street and First Avenue. It’s a very small park (more a playground for kids, really), but a nice place to sit down for a little bit, nonetheless.

Following breakfast, we took a walk around the Lower East Side, finding a little shop called Irving Farm for some coffee and tea, before we visited the Tenement Museum on Orchard Street. The last time Amy and I were here, we missed this museum entirely (mainly because we didn’t properly plan for a visit here). To plan properly, make sure to buy your tickets in advance, as they sell out fast and you may not be able to just arrive and expect a spot on one of their walking tours. We made that mistake last time, but we were determined not to let it happen again, as we had received so many recommendations to visit the Tenement Museum.

We had purchased tickets for the Shop Life tour, and our lovely tour guide, Genevieve, took us through the building at 97 Orchard, which was home to family-run stores for over a century. The first part of the tour took us through the 1870s saloon of John and Caroline Schneider. In the 1870s, this part of Manhattan was called Kleindeutschland (Little Germany) due to the influx of German immigrants to this area. In fact, it was so populated with people from Germany that newspapers written entirely in German were available, as Genevieve showed us the artifact on a table. And with their language, they also brought with them lager biers and wurst and mustard and so much else from their rich culture, things from their culture that we take for granted today because they’ve become so fully assimilated into a new American life. We even got to view an advertisement about lager bier from the era, proclaiming how it was a national drink, a family drink, a healthy drink, and a friendly drink.

The rooms at 97 Orchard were expertly restored to what they might have looked like in the 1870s. In addition to the saloon (complete with a long, shiny, wooden bar, bier steins, brass instruments, lamps hanging from the ceiling, and an old tin growler), we got to view the tiny, tiny kitchen were Caroline would have cooked as well as John and Caroline’s bedroom (which provides views of the four outhouses that would have been used by the building’s 83 residents on five floors). We also got to read about the lives of actual immigrants from the area, Genevieve passing out cards that told us their name, when they were born, who they might have been married to, and what they did for a living.

We also got to see unrestored, dilapidated parts of the building to show us what this building looked like after years of disuse and before the restorations, complete with a glass case displaying objects that they found during all their work (including a broken bier stein and a somewhat hilarious artifact of a piece of underwear).

The tour concluded with an interactive section where we could learn about three other shop owners: Max Marcus who ran an auction house in the 1930s; a butcher and his family from the turn of the 20th century; and owners of a discount garment shop from the 1970s (which explained the underwear they found). This last section was really pretty cool. We would take an object from a shelf (a photo album, an apron, a microphone, amongst other things), place it on a certain section of the table, and projectors from above would display on the table an interactive menu where we could choose to listen to interviews, read accounts, and view photos. The research to put this all together was so impressive and so thorough. And it was so informative to learn about the lives of all the men and women who made lives for themselves in this building on 97 Orchard. I’m already looking forward to making a return trip to check out some of the other walking tours that are available.

After a quick bite to eat at Vanessa’s Dumpling House on Eldridge Street (do stop by to try a diverse assortment of handmade dumplings filled with different combinations of meats, seafood, and vegetables; it was really quite good), we walked through the bustling Chinatown to make our way to the Brooklyn Bridge. Last time I was here, we also missed a walk across Brooklyn Bridge, and I was determined not to let that happen again. I was surprised to see that the pedestrian walkway was made of wooden planks. And as someone who is terribly afraid of heights, it was unnerving to see that there were spaces between the planks, and through the spaces between the planks you could see the long, long height from the bridge to the water below. Looking down gave me those wobbly knees as I felt the intense and irrational fear of that great, 135 foot height. Even still, seeing Brooklyn Bridge and walking across it is one of those experiences no one should miss, much like Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, or Prague Castle in, er, Prague.

On the Brooklyn side of Brooklyn Bridge, we stopped by Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory to have some, well, ice cream (it was fine; no need to go out of your way if you’re hungry for ice cream) before we made our way over to NoHo in Manhattan to attend another night of theatre, this time at the Public Theatre, but not before stopping at a cocktail lounge called Sweetwater Social for some, well, cocktails (it was fine; no need to go out of your way if you’re thirsty for cocktails).

At the Public Theatre, we found ourselves attending a truly transcendent night of theatre, a production of Jane Anderson’s Mother of the Maid that featured none other than Glenn Close herself in the lead role. I knew nothing about this production beyond the fact that Glenn Close was performing in it. I rather prefer it that way, as it allows me to experience the work without any preconceptions. I had no idea what the central premise of this show was, which was that this was a show about Joan of Arc. More specifically, it was about Joan of Arc’s mother and her family. (Glenn Close, of course, played Joan of Arc’s mother, Isabelle.)

I’m somewhat ashamed to admit this, but it took me a little bit (maybe a half hour or so) to figure out that this show was actually featuring the Arc family. This might be somewhat forgivable, as–while everyone is dressed in period garb and the set is similarly designed to match the aesthetic–the dialogue is all written in a modern vernacular. Isabelle calls her daughter Joanie, for example; the Arcs all use the expletive fucking (as in, “These fucking sheep!”) while they describe how unpleasant it is to pick out hay from the sheeps’ assholes; and Isabelle refers to the farm she works on as a shithole. But, once I did understand what this show was about, it was such a magical moment when I realized I was witnessing a show about such a heroine and her family. And then, in that same moment, I realized that this seemingly light-hearted and funny show about a family living on a farm was not going to have a happy ending. (If you don’t know how Joan of Arc’s life ends, then I don’t have time for you.)

But before I go on any further, I must just gush about what a joy it was to see Glenn Close on stage. The show opens with the lights illuminating Close sitting in a chair on a sparsely decorated stage. The audience, enthralled at the site of Glenn Close on stage, applauded before she even said a single word. Her presence on stage was so strong and so powerful. She was magnetic and enchanting. Whenever she was on stage (she rarely was off), she commanded our attention with so little ease. It was really quite remarkable. I feel so happy that I was able to see Glenn Close live in a play in New York. It was absolutely magical.

The rest of the cast were also just so, so good. I can’t fault a single one of them. Grace van Patten as Joan of Arc herself was especially strong. She captured Joan of Arc’s heroism and bravery so flawlessly, while also generating such emotions of fear and anxiety as her character approached her fate. And along with these astonishing performances from this talented cast came some fantastic designs in lighting, costume, sounds, and sets. Clocking in at just over 2 hours, the whole evening was transfixing, and never once did I get that impatient feeling of wanting the show to end, something I feel from time to time with shows lasting even just an hour.

We concluded the evening by having some really quite delicious ramen at Misoya (this place I would recommend you go out of your way for if you’re hungry for ramen), and then we made a trip up the Empire State Building. Last time I visited the building, we went up during the daytime, but this time we went up at night (after midnight, in fact), and it was absolutely wonderful to see the city from this vantage at night, all the buildings aglow in glimmering lights.

Sadly, at this point in my journeys, my time in New York was fast coming to an end. October 11th was my last full day here, and I left early on October 12th. So, this means only one more post of my adventures in this lovely city.

Stray Observations:

1. I know I knocked the music in Uncle Vanya as anachronistic, so I should therefore complain in return that the dialogue in Mother of the Maid is anachronistic. But the anachronisms work in Mother of the Maid, because it brought such a relatable reality to the characters. Besides, technically all the characters should be speaking in French, anyway. But also, the music in Uncle Vanya was just so, so bad.

2. I only saw three shows while I was here (compared to six on my last visit), but here’s how I’d rate the three shows I saw: (1) Mother of the Maid (2) I Hear You and Rejoice (3) Uncle Vanya.

3. During our visit to the Tenement Museum, I was struck by how history repeats. Today we see such feelings of animosity towards immigrants from Mexico and Somalia and other countries. Those feelings were just as strong towards immigrants from Germany in NYC in the 19th century. This is just another reason why I have lost so much feelings of hope for the success of the human species. Earth would be much better off without us mucking things up.

This morning I woke up for the last time at my AirBnB in Harlem, and on my way to Brooklyn to meet up with Natalie, Timmy, and Kim, I had tea and scones at a delightful shop called Alice’s Tea Cup. There are three locations, and I visited the original one located on 73rd Street at Columbus Avenue (whimsically called “Chapter I”). I’m so glad I discovered this place, as not only am I quite fond of tea, I’m also quite fond of the UK, and this tea shop reminded me so much of being back in a delightful tea shop somewhere in a quiet nook in London or in a sleepy corner of the English countryside. They offer over a hundred varieties of tea, but I couldn’t resist but to try their Fancy English Breakfast, and I paired that with a pumpkin scone and mixed berry scone. It was just so delightful! The parallels to the UK continued when I received my check only to discover that all the Alice locations have gotten rid of tipping. I do highly recommend a visit to Alice’s Tea Cup, as I have nothing but positively delightful things to say about it! (Well, the only slightly negative thing I have to say is that the clotted cream that came with the scones was nothing like real clotted cream that I had while in Devon. But I’ll forgive them.)

Following tea, I met up with the others at a Food Bazaar Supermarket in Brooklyn on Broadway. Sadly, I had only a short hour with Natalie, Kim, and Timmy, as they needed to board the train to catch their flight. But it was so lovely to hang out with them one last time and to see them off. I had a really fantastic time with them, and we all remarked how we all made such good traveling companions. I’m sure this won’t be our last excursion together.

My next stop was to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn. The cemetery as been around since 1838, it sits on 478 acres of rolling hills with almost 7000 trees (some of them a century-and-a-half old), and it is home to elegant statuary and mausoleums and 560,000 permanent residents. A tall brownstone gate of three towers and two archways greets visitors at the north entrance. It was built during the Civil War and was designed in flashy Revival Gothic style by Richard Upjohn and his son Richard M. Upjohn.

I’m always fascinated by visits to cemeteries (my visit to Glasgow’s Necropolis was especially memorable), but Green-Wood has a special place in my heart, as two of its residents are Leonard Bernstein and his wife Felicia Montealegre Bernstein. (I don’t have the space to go into Bernstein’s sexuality and his complicated relationship with Montealegre, but this article by Michael Roddy provides a good, yet heartbreaking, concise overview.) The Bernstein gravesite is actually quite unassuming, the husband and wife buried side-by-side, the location of their bodies marked by simple but elegant lawn-level markers, and at their heads stands a small, stone memorial bench surrounded by various greens and shrubs. It is a graceful and simple location for the Bernsteins, and it was an especially poignant moment for me to visit this site. I may have to come back from time to time.

After my visit with the Bernsteins, I walked a little farther south to enjoy views of a magical little area where a willow tree creates a natural tunnel on Larch Avenue, and I then made my way a tad bit west to view the catacombs. These catacombs were built in the 1850s and are closed to the public. But the gated entrance allows a glimpse down the long, long, arched hallway with small passageways on both sides of the hall into the 30 vaults. Afterwards, I made my way farther west to view the Roosevelt family plot (the resting place of, among others, Alice Hathaway Lee Roosevelt, Teddy Roosevelt’s first wife who tragically died of Bright’s Disease at only 22 years old after giving birth to Alice Lee Roosevelt; Martha Bullock Roosevelt, Teddy’s mother who tragically died of typhoid fever 11 hours before Teddy’s first wife; Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., Teddy’s father; and Cornelius and Margaret Roosevelt, Teddy’s grandparents). The gravestones were sadly so old and worn that it was difficult to read any of the names, but the 20-odd headstones (my best guess from memory) form a giant arc 30-feet (or so; I’m so bad at guessing distances) in diameter. Like the Bernsteins’ plot, this plot, too, was unassuming and humble, and I wouldn’t have known it was there walking past it had I not had a map with me to point out where it was.

I could have spent hours here, but I had to begin making my way back to Manhattan to check into our second AirBnB near the Queensboro Bridge, so I walked back towards the entrance past the quint Valley Water pond and past the Green-Wood Chapel (a Beaux Arts building built in 1911).

By the time I got to Manhattan, I needed to waste a little time before checkin, so I found a craft beer locale called the Jeffrey where I had a pint of an Oxbow Luppolo (an Italian style pilsner) and a Brooklyn Cider House Kinda Dry. And then, just like that, Amy and Aaron arrived at our apartment on East 58th Street. And how exciting it was to see them!

We had tickets to go see some standup at the Comedy Cellar in Greenwich Village, so we quickly made our way to the area to first have some dinner and then attend the show. We discovered a restaurant nearby the Comedy Cellar called North Square. The place got generally positive reviews on Google and Yelp, but the three of us ended up being rather unimpressed with the whole establishment. The only thing positive about it was that the host who sat us was friendly. After that, everything kinda went down hill. It took 10 minutes for us to get menus, the bread arrived at the same time as our entrees, and I’d rate the food (I got the duck entree and Amy and Aaron two different fish entrees) with meh-and-a-half stars. So, don’t go to North Square. There are many other better places in Greenwich Village that we discovered on our Greenwich food tour on day 6. (Stay tuned!)

After our disappointing meal, we had just enough time for a beer at the Old Rabbit Club right across the street from the Comedy Cellar. It’s a cool little hole in the wall, and I highly recommend a visit. It’s darkly lit, filled with old bric-a-brac from across the decades, and their beer selection is quite impressive.

Then, it was off to the Comedy Cellar. This venue has been around since 1982, founded by Bill Grundfest who was a standup comic himself and who currently works as a television writer and producer. Each night you can partake in any of the three shows they offer (one at 7:30, another at 9:30, and one more at 11:30), and each show usually has five to seven comics who do their schticks of about 20 minutes. The night we attended we got to enjoy Modi, Phil Hanley, Kevin Brennan, Nikki Glaser, and Mike Vecchione. All of them put on especially funny shows. I had the pleasure of sitting very near the front, and sitting in the front, of course, means you’re more likely to interact with the comedians on stage. Phil Hanley was especially interested in talking with me, and I had a really good time bantering with him. It’s all very good fun.

But then the evening turned towards the most unexpected. Sometimes there’s a surprise comedian, as there was with tonight. And it was none other than Louis C.K. I used to admire him. I used to adore him. But I can’t any longer for reasons that are obvious.

I am going to forego discussing what happened that evening in this post, as it deserves a response all on its own. I’ll try to finish that in the next day or two.

Stray Observations:

1. The walk to the Bernsteins’ gravesite from the north entrance will take you past the Civil War Soldiers’ Monument. Erected in 1869 and standing 35 feet tall, it’s an impressive column sitting atop a four-sided pedestal with statues of soldiers from the era.

2. There are some very tall hills within Green-Wood Cemetery that allow for some lovely views of the skyscrapers of Manhattan, much like how the Necropolis in Glasgow offers similar views of the city because of its placement on a tall hill.

3. As I was writing this post, I discovered that one of my favorite artists, Jean-Michel Basquiat, is buried in Green-Wood. I’m really disappointed I didn’t discover this while I was there. I was already inclined to visit the cemetery on my next visit to New York, and I will be sure not overlook paying a visit to Basquiat.