Weaponry – paralyzedbynotcaring

The British Library, the V&A Museum, and a Goodbye

Yesterday I visited the British Library, which houses not only stories and stories of books, but also an exhibition of rare prints. Some of my favorites were sketchings by Da Vinci, first editions of Shakespeare’s epic poems, another copy of that darned Magna Carta, and really old maps, one of which I recognized as being of Amsterdam before I saw the label (first intellectual benefit of this trip confirmed!). There were plenty of other books as well–religious texts, scientific notebooks, musical notations, you name it. One thing about London that I really like is that exhibits like this are free to the public (donation box by the door).

This sculpture of William Shakespeare greets you upon entering the library. This pose is so contrived–I wonder if he didn’t flop down on his belly, quill all agog, and make furious notes on the floor by the fire.

One rarity I was able to take a picture of was outside the main exhibition room. this is a really old book in an oyster shell.

That’s a binding you don’t see every day.

In the center of the library this column of books spans the height of the building.

I’m not sure how these books are accessed unless it’s automated. Surrounding this center piece you can find individual work stations. The actual reading rooms are in wings on each corner of the library, but you need a reading pass to get in to those rooms. I didn’t investigate getting a reading pass because I didn’t want to talk to anyone and I was afraid there would be a test. Anyway, the library was certainly an interesting place to visit regardless.

There was a PUNK exhibit outside the main exhibit hall dedicated to mostly Sex Pistols paraphernalia. The explanatory sign sports some of my favorite graffiti to date.

Someone was a Slits fan (The Slits were an all-girl punk band, contemporaries of the Sex Pistols).

Today was my last full day in London/England/Europe.

I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum as part of my goodbye London tour. This museum has a little of everything and an especially good sculpture collection.

This guy seemed to be having a great time.

I found St. George, hard at work against the dragon as per usually.

And this sparkling example of mythological insanity.

If you’re like me, you blocked the story of how Apollo SKINNED Marsyas alive as a punishment for losing a musical contest.

Here is a portrait of Henry VIII, who couldn’t/wouldn’t keep a wife.

I need some strong weaponry to protect me from such a ladies man.

Don’t worry, the V&A has you covered.

I also found an alcove of old books that did NOT have a “no photos” sign–amazing.

I even found a weirdo Jesus.

In case you weren’t sure what was going down, that skull and crossbones should clear it up.

After the museum, I got off the metro at the London Bridge station and walked along the Thames. Today was a beautiful, sunny, warm day.

London has seemed the most like home with KB and all the mostly English speak. I feel strange leaving. Tomorrow by this time I will be on American soil once again. No more squinting at foreign coins, no more Googling tipping customs or bus ticket kiosk locations. No more jamming as much culture into my day as possible before curling up on a new bed and waiting to see if sleep will come. No more DEMON.

“Back to reality” people have said, but dealing with navigating new cities, new countries, new challenges has been more real than any normal day in Belmont. I don’t know how this will change my reality, if at all. I will have to wait and see.

Tomorrow I fly to North Carolina.

I am reading 11/22/63 by Stephen King.

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.

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You me and the KGB

I didn’t sleep well last night and had to drag myself to the KGB corner house with dad. We walked by way of Alberta Street, famous for building after building in the art nuevo style.

The buildings were ornately designed, some with statues as columns, some with sphinx gargoyles.

Once we got to the KGB house, a free exhibition, the pictures, documents, and informational texts didn’t do much to invigorate me. Latvia was occupied by the soviets, then the nazis, then the soviets again, and if I understood the postings correctly, the nazi occupation was a relief from the soviets.

Let that sink in.

Bars on the windows, uneven footing, narrow doorways, a small courtyard, and a turret for the execution room. No thank you.

I’d never considered WWII from a Baltic perspective before. I am not sure I could have handled it anyway back when I was first learning about all this violence for the first time.

Out and around the corner is St. Gertrude’s, and we stepped in to for some sanity.

St. Gertrude is the patron saint of travellers.

The skies promised rain, but we were able to take some pictures.

Dad has the double glasses look down.

We also stopped by a fancy bakery, meaning I went to a fancy bakery and dad waited outside.

Dad doesn’t do foo-foo, which is too bad because I had an excellent apricot cheesecake something or other.

We walked down to old town for the last time and did a farewell tour of our restaurants and shops and parks. It started sprinkling on our walk back to the hotel, and by they time we tucked ourselves in for a nap, it was raining. It is still raining now, a beautiful Baltic summer night.

Total miles walked: 4.87.

Tomorrow we fly back to Copenhagen. Dad flies home from there on Saturday. I will go see KB in London.

Black balsaming my way through life

Today the bus tour must have been rerouted because we ended up disembarking precisely where we had begun, and that can’t possibly be due to all the black balsam we’ve imbibed, right? We saw the Nativity Cathedral, an Orthodox Russian church, which is even more impressive in person.

I really do think it might be bigger on the inside.

I didn’t get much farther than this because a large sign advised that all women should be appropriately dressed in skirts and head coverings, neither of which I was wearing or even packed. Dad said a lot of women were in street clothes past this point, but I am trying to put off being escorted out of a church for as long as possible. I waited outside.

We decided then to walk to the KGB house, and along the way we ate burgers and pink soup. The KGB house turned out to be closed on Tuesdays, so we went to the Riga National Museum instead. There is a lot of modern (20th c) art here, and probably my favorite thing was watching dad read the painting’s title, step back and look, and then step in to read the title again, this time with his glasses, then step back and shake his head in a sort of ehhh-is-this-a-first-draft? sort of way.

There were some winning pieces though, notably the Madonna with a Machine Gun:

Vodka:

and this somewhat confounding painting of Moses, Aaron, and Hur:

Admittedly, I don’t know who is who, but I can’t get past the sparkler headband in center stage. What is this supposed to represent? It is not near the traditional aureole that signposts divinity. Maybe this is an after party I was never invited to.

We made our way to the city center to again admire the House of the Blackheads–one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen.

That’s it on the right. It catches you by the lungs when you see it for the first time as you come around a corner.

I found a bakery and enjoyed some Latvian dessert, but dad said it was too fancy for him as my mint leaves uncurled in my tea.

Guess what I ordered.

Anyway we found a shop where dad was more comfortable.

See that bag? Yes, he BOUGHT things today. Here you have it, the eighth wonder.

After a cafe dinner that included herring that I am too polite to describe (dad loved it) & a black balsam cocktail better than Christmas, we walked back to the hotel by way of the Opera house.

Notice no one is about. The streets are very low key and the crowds haven’t been close to overwhelming (Prague had throngs of people pushing through narrow streets). Riga is the largest city in the Baltics, but it is still small enough to walk comfortably (cobblestones aside). The city buses share the road with trams and city vans, just smaller versions of the bus. There are fewer bicyclists here, much to my relief. And there are a normal amount of cars*. I have been impressed with everyone’s ability to speak English, the quality of the food, and the beauty and accessibility of everything. Riga has more than delivered.

Tomorrow, KGB house or bust.

Miles walked: 7.02

*The car tax in Denmark is 180%; noticeably fewer cars are there. Loads of parking, though.

Another day another country

Yesterday we travelled from Hamburg to Riga, Latvia, by plane (I was able to talk Dad down from he We Have To Take a Ferry insanity), but our flight wasn’t until after 7pm (19:00) so we had time in Hamburg to continue to enjoy the LGBTQ Pride street fair, which included hamburgers and a lot of really upbeat music. Every other street vendor was selling cocktails before noon. I had to pry dad away from this scene so we could see a few more sights, including city hall. I particularly liked city hall because there were plenty of benches.

We then walked down to the warehouse district, which is is prettier than it sounds.

The warehouses are made of brick and are separated by canals, as you can see.

It was an excellent day (barely a threat of rain), so walking so far from our hotel wasn’t as much of a gamble as usual.

We walked down to the Maritime Museum, where the largest collection of model boats is housed. Yes, one is made completely of legos. Also included are many beautiful paintings of nautical scenes. They basically look either like this

or like something seriously nasty is about to happen (not pictured). I particularly enjoyed the harpoons and knots.

Doesn’t the knot on the lower left look like a sea scorpion?

We also paid our respects to Leif, who sort of discovered America.

Not to be outdone, Columbus motions to the sun to settle down.

We took the train from our hotel to the main train station (our hotel was just outside the train station and it was very easy), but from the main train station the right train to the airport was a little confusing. The platform said airport, the train display said airport, but some displays said “first three cars.” Well, we weren’t sure if it was the first three cars from the engine or the first three cars from the platform and you better bet we guessed wrong. After several stops, the train paused for an unusually long time at the stop just before the airport. Another passenger, probably noticing our luggage and English, asked if we were going to the airport because if so the first three cars just left us. We jumped off the train to watch the first three cars scuttle off as though they’d just pulled the funniest prank on Earth. I should have known and I guess this makes Dad and me even for our trip through rural Sweden.

We got on the first car of the next train.

The main train station was much, much more bustling than the airport, which seems so strange to me. At any rate we checked our bags and had plenty of time before we boarded the bus to board the tiny plane to Riga. Many of the other passengers were men my age with long hair and rock band tee shirts. We guessed they were coming from a show (they were all pretty drained). Customs through Riga was a breeze as it was just walking by a lady leaning against a desk that had a “Customs” sign. Our taxi driver to the hotel was at least 7 feet tall. Dad fell asleep immediately.

Total miles walked: 6.7

Today was our first day in Riga, which is a small, flat (read: walkable) city. We found a post office and a bus tour without having to ask anyone, much to our mutual relief.

Here we are on the bus before I Hulk Broke the headphones.

We got off at the canal stop and then got on a boat with a five-year-old girl named Megan who objected to her life vest by protesting that she promised she wouldn’t get in the water anyway because she didn’t want to get her hair wet. The boat took us through the canal and into Daugava River. From here is a great view of their wedge-shaped library.

Here we are on the boat.

On a side note dad only looks happy when he doesn’t know I’m taking a picture. As in above, when I ask first, he gives this are-you-serious face. Candids from now on when possible.

After the canal tour we walked around old town and came across a few sights I’d read about on the fountain of information that is Pinterest.

We looked inside the Riga Cathedral.

Much stained glass and ornate molding, of course.

While I was taking photos like this one, Dad was busy documenting the retrofitting on the load-bearing columns.

We were also able to pretty easily find the Freedom Monument.

Latvia became a free country in 1991.

This small memorial is from the Baltic Way, when people from Estonia through Latvia to Lithuania joined hands for freedom in 1989.

We also came across this statue of a donkey, pig, cat, and rooster. It is supposed to be good luck if you can touch all four. The statue is tall though and I could reach only the donkey and pig. Half luck for me, half something else I guess.

I also serendipitously spotted the house of the black cat, which I think is just like every other house except that way back when the owner was trying to join the city’s guild, he was denied, so he put a black cat sculpture on top of his house and faced the cat’s rear end at the guild’s office. The guild relented, the home owner was admitted, and the cat’s ass now faces a different way.

As far as lore goes, this story seems watered down. I bet there is a REAL version out there somewhere.

Anyway, I remembered from the tour bus narration something about the house of the three brothers, so I was trying to guide us by it as we made our way back to the hotel. The streets here are anything but a symmetrical grid, so it is easy to trapezoid yourself out of orientation. Dad and I walked up a block, around it, looked at the map, but neither of us could see anything noteworthy or any signage. We didn’t notice the gaggle of tourists across the street aiming their cameras at us. We didn’t notice when a tour tram came up, stopped, unload a bunch of people who also took our picture, load up again, and then trammed off. We held the map upside down. We looked up and down the street. We tried to remember what the house of the three brothers even was and why it was mentioned on the tour. I noticed finally that a) the people across the street weren’t moving b) they seemed pissed at us, and I put together that we were right at the house of the three brothers. I took a picture of what everyone else seemed to be photographing:

As far as houses in Riga go, this one seemed pretty plain, but who am I to judge? I think things built before 1950 are old.

Now that I’m back at the hotel I did a quick search and realized that my map and/or memory was a poor translation. It isn’t house of the three brothers, but rather the Three Brothers, three consecutive houses that are the oldest in Riga and represent the three major architectural themes. So as it happens i took a picture of the One Brother. And the homeliest one at that.

Finally we had dinner at B-Bar, a place we chose because of its Black Balsam drinks. Black Balsam is a Latvian liquor made from, among many other things, wormwood. So either it was all a bit of hype and we made it back to the hotel ok OR this is the most G-rated trip ever and I am face down in a beautiful cobblestone ally waiting to be awakened by the street cleaner.

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.

Locked in the basement

My airbnb is a basement studio in a normal Prague apartment building. I have the external key, the mail key, and the studio key. There is however a door from lobby to the staircase to the basement that I was told is rarely locked, but my external key should open it if it happens to be locked.

It was locked this morning as I ascended out of the cave. The light in the staircase is motion detected, so it kept flicking off as I turned the key first clockwise, then counter clockwise, then half clockwise and full counter, then flip it and reverse it, then pull the door shut more tightly and try again, then jiggle everything, then start sweating, then continue sweating, then keep sweating so that a decent grip on the keys is impossible, then imagine being locked in a basement in Prague and going feral, then jiggling the keys more until someone happens by and opens the door from the lobby.

After that episode of Fear Factor, I went back to try the strudel version of the trdelnik, which was tasty but even more of a challenge to eat. It wasn’t even noon and I was already through two challenges.

The Old Town Square was as picturesque as ever.

I went to the Prague Castle, which is the largest castle complex in Europe. It really is a complex–many different types of buildings in a sort of ye olde business park. By far the most beautiful was the St. Vitus Cathedral, which, and I can’t stress this enough, is large.

It’s bigger on the inside.

As you might imagine, there are many beautiful statues and windows of stained glass. My favorite stained glass window is this one.

And wouldn’t you know it, another depiction of the giant holding Jesus’s body on the cross, this time in silver with many embellishments.

At least in this one he looks like he feels guilty for showing up a bit too late.

Also in the complex is St. George’s Basilica, which houses these bones.

When the top three google search results didn’t include whose bones these are, I abandoned the project, making this the shortest episode of CSI ever. You’re welcome.

Part of the castle was built by the Empress Maria Theresa–that’s right, Marie Antoinette’s mom was always hard at work. This was when the Habsburgs of Austria were all over Prussia.

Look what I found there.

Fifty points to Gryffindor!

Also abounding were sharp objects.

And the inspiration for Nimbly from the Never Ending Story II!

Now it is time for my final challenge of the day, which occurred on my bastion of safety, the dear old tour bus. I was sitting in the front of the bus so I could see out the windshield and hear the tour guide easily. The tour guide was joking with the driver about asking out a female tour guide when a car cut in front of us and the bus came to a sudden and jarring halt. I was thrown from the window seat to the aisle seat, where thankfully no one was sitting. The driver of the car that cut into our lane rolled down his window and started yelling and gesturing at the bus. The tour guide and the driver then ran out of the bus and chased the car down. It was a total scene from cops except no cops. The keys to the bus were still in the ignition so I drove the battered tourists to safety JOKE there’s no place safe. Haven’t you learned that from my blog yet? I didn’t have to drive us anywhere because the driver in the car fled the scene to much yelling and fist gesturing of the tour team and honking from nearby cars. It was all very manly.

The narration from the tour guide was more heavily accented from then on.

I went to Sephora to buy some sanity.

Travel day

Another day another country. Taxi to train to metro to tram to walking in the rain to not being able to discern a few characters on the hand-written wifi information card.

Oh, and guns.

This is a picture of two well-armed German policemen checking documents at the Dresden main train station. Someone with a bigger camera is taking a film of it between me and the interaction. I have to say that the police in Europe carry far larger weaponry than police on the beat in CA. The police guns here have to be held with both hands.

The sightseeing tour bus in Prague has some pretty scathing reviews on TripAdvisor so now I really can’t wait to check it out.

Czech out this body of water I saw from the train.

Now observe how scientifically I failed at reading numbers and letters.

I couldn’t figure out what the wifi code was. That’s right, my conclusion was “?”

For those of you who don’t know, my dad is planning on meeting me at the end of July or beginning of August in Copenhagen. He does not have the internet, so all of my logistical questions are being funneled through lil bro, who has to call dad on a LAND LINE and ask. I am not sure why this isn’t the system everywhere because there have been no misunderstandings and we all love each other VERY MUCH.

I am reading Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg and Daisy Miller and Other Whatevers by Henry James.

“Hang ‘abroad’! Stay at home and do things here.” ~Henry James

Category: Weaponry