Reading – Page 2 – paralyzedbynotcaring

Guess whose bedroom I found myself in today

Hint: It is on Baker Street.

The Sherlock Holmes museum can be found at the expected address. The gift shop was swarmed with people so much so that it was impossible to find the end of the queue to buy anything. Browsing was out of the question, but I wasn’t much interested in knickknacks. The museum is just the house on Baker Street, which in my mind is larger than life but in reality is so tiny this sentence wouldn’t fit there. Also, the ventilation wasn’t stellar, so I was fanning myself the whole time.

Here is SH’s bedroom.

The living area looks like this–total chaos. Every surface was covered.

But the essentials were there.

There was also Watson’s bedroom (slightly more organized) and Mrs. Hudson’s room (immaculate). Also in the house were various stagings of scenes from the stories.

This is apparently Mr. Charles Augustus Milverton & Lady Blackwell. I don’t remember this story but it’s been said that I’ve forgotten more in one day than some people learn in a lifetime.

I never found the WC except for a tiny toilet and sink on the 3rd floor. Where did SH shower?

That’s the real mystery, folks.

Here is photographic evidence of how hot and tiny the stairway is.

Down the street past Pizza Hut and around the corner is the SH statue.

Now I can say I’ve stood in his shadow.

Not bad for a Wednesday.

Walking around and looking around: London

I walked a little farther today and made it to the Tate Modern Museum, which is massive and full of strange and fascinating exhibits. On of the first things to catch my eye was this radio tower.

Many of the units were functioning and broadcasting talk radio. I have watched six episodes of Dr. Who, so I can say that from a distance this sculpture has a Dr Who-ish feel to it.

I also saw this gem which reminds of the quilts HK creates. I think this would be an excellent quilt, don’t you?

Also in the weird lines hall was this mind bender.

If that doesn’t cross your eyes, I don’t know what will. There should be a fainting couch next to it.

This one appealed to the darkness in my soul.

It’s what I imagine my own matrix code looks a little like.

No trip to a European museum would be complete with out a few water lilies, right? This one is so big I couldn’t get it in a single frame.

And I came across a sweet reminder from the Guerrilla Girls about women in art.

In case you are blind like me:

The Advantages of Being a Woman Artist:

Working without the pressure of success
Not having to be in shows with men
Having an escape from the art world in your 4 free-lance jobs
Knowing your career might pick up after you’re eighty
Being reassured that whatever kind of art you make it will be labeled feminine
Not being stuck in a tenured teaching position
Seeing your ideas live on in the work of others
Having the opportunity to choose between career and motherhood
Not having to choke on those big cigars or paint in Italian suits
Having more time to work after your mate dumps you for someone younger
Being included in revised versions of art history
Not having to undergo the embarrassment of being called a genius
Getting your picture in the art magazines wearing a gorilla suit.

After that wingdinger I came across the Gerhard Richter room. I knew it was his work before I read the sign. He is an artist I check in on occasionally to see if he has any exhibitions nearby. The Tate Modern has SIX of his paintings. They did not have my very favorite one (a pink and brown and black affair), but these were wonderful to see in the flesh. Here they are in order of favorite to most favorite.

These are obviously examples of abstract art. Richter would paint, then paint over the paint, then squeegee over the paint and allow the earlier paint to show through the top paint. In some places the paint is very thick, and in some it is very fine and delicate. I don’t know why I like these so much; usually abstract art is difficult for me. These though speak to and I hope someday to see the pink and brown and black one (pretty sure that’s the official name).

After this lucky find I was ready for some street food. I had some fried chicken and chips with mayo and the tiniest amount of ketchup imaginable.

I walked by the Globe–Shakespeare’s Globe–and had to keep walking. It was too overwhelming.

I went to Starbucks to dust my nuts and talk myself through getting in there.

No tickets available for any immediate showings of Macbeth or Midsummer, but the box office artist advised me to wait in the standby queue prior to the play to buy the no-show tickets. This is now the plan.

The Uber driver who helped me not have to walk back to KB’s asked me about Trump. We both sighed.

I am reading Cleopatra; The Night Manager; and Scarlet, by Marissa Meyer.

London

Dad, at press time, is en route to Manton and I am here in London with KB. Today we drove to a winery outside of London, where I discovered a) London is ridiculously huge and b) you don’t have to travel to Bordeaux for good wine.

It’s been sunny and beautiful since my arrival yesterday, though rain is in the forecast. Being among humans–first Dad and now KB&Co.–makes for a very different experience than traveling solo. For one thing I have to warm up my voice before talking to someone less.

I am within walking distance of many thing to see and eat, so that is the plan for the immediate future. They speak a kind of English here, so I think I will be able to get by. Pinterest has as ever been helpful with tips and suggestions, and of course the locals I’m staying with know all the things. KB has to work tomorrow like a normal person leaving me at liberty to do my walking around and looking around.

I am reading The Night Manager by John Le Carré and Cleopatra by Stacy Schiff.

The Prince of Denmark

Today in the scorching 17 degree C heat we decided to visit Kronborg Castle, aka Elsinore (Helsigno-with-line-through-it-r in Danske). To do so we had to take the Metro to the train to Helsignor. This proved to be a challenge in that both the metro and the train stop at Norreport, but there is no direct connection–we had to come to the surface and then descend different stairs to switch means of transport. This was irritating and confusing and ROTTEN.

Once we were on the train though I was able to turn the rage down enough to be excited about seeing the setting of Hamlet. In the “summertime,” July and August, there are events at Kronborg, including Hamlet Live, wherein you encounter short scenes from the play as you explore the castle and its grounds.

We knew we had the right place when the train station had this posted.

We stopped at Dad’s favorite restaurant in Denmark, the 7 Eleven, for snacks.

The train station itself was beautiful.

But the real stunner was outside the station.

Bingo!

We crossed two moats to get to the castle.

And the second one…

This is about the time I gave dad a Hamlet refresher (he couldn’t remember if he’d seen it on Wishbone or not), so he was prepared when we saw the scene in the chapel.

That’s Hamlet sneaking up on his uncle, who is kneeling at the altar.

The scenes were brief and spaced out, so we had some time to explore the castle. We arrived as one procession of the scenes was over half way through, so everything was all out of order. Dad said it didn’t matter to him, and it didn’t matter to me either.

The Hamlet-Laertes fencing match was impressive. I can say this sagely because of the five fencing lessons I took from a Groupon Deal (left-handed fencing gloves are hard to find, by the way).

And Polonius’ murder was dramatical enough to scare children (always a pleasant experience for me). I took a professional iphone video of this crime, but free versions of wordpress do not allow video uploads. See instagram for films.

Here is our prince hiding from Polonius, who keeps asking him annoying questions, like What are you reading? and Do you know who I am? Like a madman or something.

The courtyard looks like this, surrounded on all four sides by the castle.

We also ventured down into some sort of tunnel and saw King Hamlet’s Ghost, which was a fairly convincing hologram. I am not saying I’d go kill my uncle, but I’m saying if this ghost told me to, I’d consider it.

Probably my favorite scene was one we stumbled across accidentally as we were leaving. Hamlet, too, came across the grave digger, who spoke some nonsense and then ran away. Hamlet was on the receiving end of crazytalk for once. Look at his expression.

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That’s the grave digger running away on the right.

At times it was a bit campy, but it was necessary to inject more humor than a straight reading would allow. All the actors were great at this. The castle was impressive and the scenes were very well done.

Who could *not* get in the spirit in a place like this?

And it didn’t even start to do that crazy, float up and under your umbrella mist rain in your face until we were on our way back to the hotel, which I thought was decent of the weather to do.

We ate in a little place on Nyhavn, which in case you’ve forgotten looks like this.

Quaint as ever.

Dad is heading back to the USA tomorrow on a scandalously early 6am flight. I am heading to London to see KB at a decent hour (flight is at noon).

Travels with Dad has been different, but I think we’ve been successful. Dad said today that he thinks 2 weeks is his European limit. I am not sure what my limit is, but I’m not quite there yet.

Check back tomorrow.

Riga to Copenhagen

There and back again. We left our hotel in Riga at 8am before dad had finished his first of his usual 4 coffees, so we were both a wreck. We stood in the Every Airline Except Baltic Airline check in line, only to be told this is the Oh And Except Finn Airline Line as well. So we stood in the Finn Airline Line. Then we were told we got bumped from the Finn Air flight and will take Air Baltic. So we stood in the Air Baltic line. By this time I needed to go stand in the WC line as well. After that we stood in the security line. As we neared the front of the security line, dad realized he still had Lil Bro’s loan pocket knife on him, so we had to go stand in the Air Baltic check in line again and check dad’s carry on. We almost drowned in the sweat pouring off dad as he realized he had a knife in his pocket, but we somehow survived to stand in the security line again and were still in time to go stand in the booze line where we felt right at home.

Back in Copenhagen we hopped on the now familiar train to the central station and took a taxi to our hotel. I took a nap and dad had a sandwich by the canal. For dinner we had 5 types of herring and other less interesting things.

Dad’s favorite was the maroon and my favorite was the purple.

We ate along the Nyhavn Canal under heat lamps and jackets. Another beautiful summer day.

Nyhavn is still adorable. Observe.

I found watermelon ice cream on the walk home, so that happened.

We can see the groovy spiral acid flashback church from a distance near our hotel.

Tomorrow is Dad’s last full day abroad so we are going to fulfill his lifelong dream of going to HAMLET’S CASTLE!!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hamburg

First I have to say that we have taken some pretty epic naps in Hamburg. Today we went to the top of St. Michael’s cathedral, the first of such things that I’ve encountered that had an elevator. Needless to say, I took the lift. Dad opted for the stairs, which probably lead to today’s siesta.

Here is the church.

Here is Michael taking out the trash.

Here I am at the top looking fresh after the elevator ride. Dad didn’t want to get that close to the edge.

Here’s the other view from the top, including the Elbe.

We’ve sampled some excellent local cuisine. Here is a pork knuckle.

We’ve taken in the sights. Here is Dad taking a picture of the post office.

We got on the tour bus, though the commentary was in excitable German.

The warehouse district was huge and brick and beautiful.

We also did a canal tour where we learned it is illegal to insult the swans.

Why would you want to?

The view from the boat was beautiful.

Hamburg is a lot bigger than I anticipated. I was picturing kind of a Bruges-like city, but Hamburg is huge and mostly modern. It has more bridges than Amsterdam, London, and Venice combined. There’s that old Venice envy again.

The rain has for the most part threatened but turned out to be sound and fury signifying nothing. I am glad I picked up that jacket in Copenhagen though. It’s windy here. Especially at the top of towers.

Don’t think I’ve escaped the Demon. Look at this.

Always stay vigilant, sir.

Tomorrow evening we fly to Riga, Latvia.

I am reading Good Behavior by Molly Keane and Cleopatra by Stacy Schiff. Dad is reading Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose.

Birthday boy

Today is Dad’s birthday so I woke up before God and we spend all day out and about. We rode the tour bus to the tour boat, where it promptly started pouring. The boat was uncovered, so we dashed across the street to the Christiansborg Palace. Right outside is this horseman and a statue of a slain polar bear that doesn’t need to be mentioned ever again.

Also outside is another building with this spectacular spire–three dragon’s tails winding towards Valhalla.

Once inside the Palace and safe from the rain, we put the required blue footie protectors over our feet and walked through the rooms to admire the artwork, history, and architecture. My favorite room was the Queen’s Library, which had books dating back to the 18th century.

Many of the rooms were large, with artwork depicting Danish history and molding so detailed it told its own story. Each room had a theme (Green Room, Velvet Room, Swedish People on Horses Room, etc.), but the throne room was different. It is oval rather than rectangular, and the floorboard pattern was designed keeping in mind that people had to face the throne as they departed, walking backwards. Stay one the right pattern track and you can back into the hall.

The larger throne is for the queen, naturally.

One room, the largest, had dazzlingly detailed tapestries of Danish history from Vikings to modern day. They were given to the Queen in 200o for her birthday. Though very colorful, I found them to be a bit overwhelming, and had to focus on finding little details or neverland or nemo. Well, look what I discovered.

There she is–the Last Unicorn! You really never know what you are going to find in a tapestry.

After the palace it was still a bit drizzly, so we had lunch and then took the bus to the mall. Dad wanted to find some Danish winter sweaters, but as it’s August this proved to be too much. I, however, did manage to find not only golden bobby pins but also a jacket that fit around my boobs. Wonders never cease.

The sun came out and we were able to make the last boat tour of the day. Dad was very happy to finally be on a boat.

We motored through to the end of Nyhaven, a beautiful canal/street. I was particularly interested in this street because HC Anderson of Little Mermaid fame once resided here. I don’t know exactly which house was his but they all look pretty much like this.

He wrote well over 100 fairy tales, many of which still get play today. I seem to recall there is a good podcast ep about him from Stuff You Missed in History Class where I learned that he was a bit eccentric and poverty stricken. What, a gifted writer, living in poverty? Nooo.

From the boat we got a decent though fleeting view of the Church of Our Savior, in all it’s winding glory.

The tour guide says it’s an easy 400 steps to the top.

Maybe tomorrow.

This boat tour differed from the others I’ve taken in that the bridges are VERY low to the water. Sitting in the boat was safe, but you could easily reach up and touch the bottom of the bridge as we passed under it. I ducked just on principle. Other than that, it was a good boat tour.

It being Dad’s birthday, we went out to dinner to a place with candles and real napkins. On the way, we passed this gem.

That’s right, Tycho Brahe has a planetarium just down the street from our hotel. You may recall I mentioned Brahe in my post about the Kepler Museum in Prague. Brahe is a famous Danish astronomer known for his meticulous data records and larger than life personality. I might be half in love with him.

Once we made it to the restaurant, Dad learned about water coming in a bottle, paying with a card at the table, and that no check will ever come if you don’t ask for one. We had smoked salmon and steak and panna cotta, all of which were excellent.

Tomorrow we are taking the train to Malmo, Sweden (the ferry doesn’t run between Copenhagen and Malmo anymore according to sources*) to see the Swedish sights.

I am still reading The Family Romanov and Good Behavior. Dad is reading** Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore.

*Google

**holding briefly before falling to sleep

To the surprise of no one

The French flight attendants were on strike, so the ladies in charge of Dad’s flight to Paris, then Copenhagen were “professional but a bit abrupt,” according to sources.*

The plan was for Dad and me to meet at the train station at the Copenhagen airport. His flight wasn’t scheduled to land until 730pm, so I thought I had acres of time at 8 to secretly eat a pastry as I waited. Just as I was about to take my first bite, I hear my name correctly pronounced for the first time in almost two months. Mouth wide open, eyes wide open, I see Dad across the tracks on the other platform.

It is so nice to speak American with someone.

Dad seems quite at home here, though I had to show him how to operate the shower. “These buttons don’t do anything!”

Welcome to Europe.

I am reading The Family Romanov by Candace Fleming and Good Behavior by Molly Keane.

*Dad

D’Orsay

Today is my last full day in France. I took the train and the metro to Paris proper to visit the D’Orsay Museum, which I have never visited before.

Back on the metro–luckily no one made pee.

On the walk from the metro station to the museum, I caught sight of that famous radio tower.

The museum has sort of a crazy floor plan made even more incomprehensible by a “map,” so I did the thing where you wander. I played my museum games: spot the dogs in the paintings, check the mirrors in the paintings, find the weirdest Jesus. The last game was quite a bit more difficult than it has been because many of the pieces of art glorified landscapes, ordinary objects, and Greek/Roman myths. I took a picture of what I thought was a soul being dragged to heaven by angels and presented to Jesus only to realize it was Zeus and I felt like a bad Christian. This was not my first sin, though. Hell, I’m a fan of all seven. And upon realizing this I found Silent Hill Jesus:

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If this isn’t the creepy crawliest Jesus ever depicted, I don’t want to know.

I saw some familiar faces, including this Monet:

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And I met a few new pieces with particularly beautiful lighting from within the painting:

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I stopped when I came upon this next one, mostly because the crowd was such that I could not pass. You know how you automatically pay more attention to paintings that other people seem to be killing themselves over? I try not to do that because art is so subjective, but the more I looked at this one, the more I was convinced the whole world has gone insane.

What sort of vegan pagan bad facial hair picnic is this? I have so many questions. Where is the real food? Is the guy on the right holding an umbrella? Why is she naked if it’s going to rain? What is that other girl doing–pulling out a splinter? And why is this nakedly nude lady glaring at ME as if I’m the one out of place? This is a very uncomfortable piece and I was not happy to be stuck in a crowd around it. Nuts.

Last but not least I saw this reminder for RS to call Dr. A.

And on the way back to the metro station, I stopped in for the obligatory french pastry.

I had the apricot tart (second from right).

As a subplot update, Dad went to the Wells Fargo in Red Bluff and convinced them to issue another replacement ATM card for me, so when I meet Dad in Copenhagen tomorrow, he will have it with him. It is easy to complain about small towns, but sometimes they are the best thing ever.

I am reading The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood & rereading the Scandinavia chapter in Rick Steves’ book.

Let’s talk about food

At Disneyland Paris, I expected a lot from the food vendors. After all miss, this is France. The crepes and fantasiambrosia ice cream did not disappoint, and the pineapple juice soft serve was an acceptable variation of Dole Whip. Though, much to my surprise, there was not a churro nor a lemonade stand to be found.

Crepe:

Fantasiambrosia (not what the menu calls it):

The Fantasia cafe won for most adorable decor:

Imposter Dole Whip will do:

I had the catch of the day at the Blue Lagoon (where you can get vodka in your martini), which was a bit too much fish for me. The chips served with the tuna were actually my favorite part of the meal.

Overall the alcohol did not push the experience past that of the BL in CA, where the monte cristo sando will change your life.

The grilled ham and cheese from the deli market on Main Street is very good, but the cristo deserves its own show.

The Hakuna lunch included expertly spiced crisp cut fries, and though there is a ketchup shortage in Europe that no one talks about, these fries didn’t suffer. They were one serving of ranch dressing away from perfection.

The last meal I had was at Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, which is a BBQ dinner with live entertainment of the lasso and gunslinger variety. The food was pretty good, especially the cornbread and ribs, but the Indians (they don’t bother with saying Native Americans much here) really stole the show. One stood on two horses while guiding two more in a race around the arena. The other shows I saw were very fun, with dazzling special effects, but this one was the most impressive. Probably because I know how hard it is to rope a calf with a lasso (impossible) and to jump onto a galloping horse (even more impossible). It was also the most fragrant.

And I got a hat.

Overall, though, I think the food in DL CA is better purely because of the variety and availability. The food kiosks close very early here (some before 730pm), and some of the restaurants do as well. One evening I had to leave the park so I could buy a sandwich at the train station (really, there was not a casual dining experience to be had in the park). Also, the kiosks serve the same four ice cream options and the same four drink options. There are only two crepe kiosks, and one ran out of crepes before 7pm. This seems decidedly un-disney. The Disney I know will sell you anything and everything anytime.

Let’s have more of that.

And more pink castles.

I am reading The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood.

Category: Reading