Sightseeing

I dragged myself out of bed around noon today to go to the Victoria and Albert to meet my cousin. This is my second cousin, both in terms of relations (she’s the daughter of my father’s cousin) and in terms of cousin’s I’ve run into in London. Her name is Deborah and she’s my age, studying abroad with a consortium of midwestern schools. They go for two months in London, and then two months in Florence. She’s been here all of a week, and I was looking through her camera at pictures she’s taken since coming here. She has photos of Alan Rickman and Orlando Bloom! She ran into them at the theatre last night and got their autographs. I’ve been here for more than a month now, and have yet to spot anyone even remotely famous. I mean, Orlando I could take or leave, but Alan Rickman? The man who played the voice of God (not to mention Colonel Brandon)? Sigh, it just isn’t fair. Actually, her entire program sounds really cool. Her classes seem to involve trips to the theatre multiple times a week, and excursions to Bath and other British attractions. “I go to school in the Midwest,” she told me, “so this is my reward.” Fair enough.

I love the Victoria and Albert, but I must say it isn’t the best place to meet somebody. It’s so big, and the floor plans is so confusing that the chances of being able to find somebody, even with a pre-appointed meeting spot, are very slim. Nevertheless, we managed to find each other, meeting under the Chihuly chandelier in the main entrance hall. The floor plan for the V and A is so complex that it’s much more practical to wander around randomly than it is to try and see specific exhibits. The objects themselves are amazing, but I’m stunned by the collection as a whole. The V and A strikes me more as a historical warehouse than a museum, revealing the British for the cultural kleptomaniacs that they are. The galleries contain everything from dresses to statues to musical instruments to crockery to weapons to miniature buildings to full-scale temples. There seems to be no real way to classify all of the collections; on one floor the galleries are arranged by country, on another by period and on another by material. So if you want to see fifteenth century Chinese glassware you have to know whether you should be looking in the fifteenth century section, the Chinese section, or the glassware section. We spent most of our time in the fashion section, and then looking at the court castes—full scale plaster castes of various courts throughout the world and throughout the ages. They had a life size replica of Trajan’s column, and a huge replica of Michangelo’s David. I was in awe.

Victoria and Albert, Plaster Caste room



We only spent about an hour at the V and A, deciding to go to the Portobello Road market, which is only open on weekends. We had to take the tube in order to get there. Once we were inside the tube stop we found ourselves immersed in a huge crowd of people. The crowd was so thick that we could barely move. It was one of those throngs that had a mind of its own and I began to get the sense that if I lifted my feet off the ground the sheer force of the crowd would carry me through the barrier down to the tube. I began to look around me, and I noticed that this was no ordinary crowd we had happened upon. To my right I saw two men dressed as Elvis, and a little ways in front of me there was a group of people in sheep costumes. On top of this, nearly everybody was carrying some sort of alcoholic beverage, mostly cans of Fosters or Smirnoff Ices. I was beginning to get a little worried that maybe there was some sort of mid-winter Halloween tradition in Britain that nobody had told me about, until I noticed that an inordinate number of these people had the same logo painted on their cheek, and that they sported similar flags and shirts bearing the same logo. Oh. Sports fans. We made our way through the drunken mob of what I later learned were rugby fans down to the tube platform. Thankfully, the majority of the people were headed in the opposite direction from us, so once we were on the tube things were relatively quiet. I was bit shaken, however, as it was the first time I’d seen a massive crowd like that in London.

Once we got to our tube stop (Notting Hill, again) we followed the signs to Portobello road. Portobello road is a road with shops, cafes and pubs like any other in London, but on the weekends it is lined with vendors of all sorts and becomes a huge open-air market. At first, all we could find were antique stalls. For about two or three blocks we found nothing but antiques, all of which were well out of our price range, but very pretty to look at. Gradually, however, the antique stalls became less and less high quality until we were surrounded by vendors that sold the usual paraphernalia that can be found at flea markets and street fairs. It was fun to browse, but what mostly interested us were the food vendors. There was a block or two that was taken up entirely with food stalls, and after walking the length of the road once, we returned to do our produce shopping for the week. I got a little carried away with the sight of so many fresh fruits and vegetables, and I bought three boxes of green beans (they were being sold three for a pound!), a head of cabbage, broccoli, grapes and bananas. Oh well, if I’m going to be broke, at least I will be broke and vitamin fortified. Because I was now lugging around a head of cabbage, and Deborah was hauling a bushel of apples and a squash, we decided that it was time to go back home to stock our refrigerators. We made plans to check out other markets next weekend, and to maybe cook a meal together in the near future before parting at the tube stop. She headed west and I headed east, but I have a shrewd suspicion the twain will meet.