Adventures in Europe 1(of 3)

Locations: Southend, Amsterdam, Berlin, Wolstyn, Poznan, Berlin, Hamburg, Amsterdam, Southend.

Music: New Season (Luke Leighfield), Best of the Lighthouse Family (Lighthouse Family), ill Manors (Plan B)

Accomodation: Lalo Calado, Wolsztyn train house, IndustriePalast (Berlin), Hotel Budapesterhof (Hamburg).

So this summer my father and I bought some interrail passes and set off for Europe. The aim was to get to Wolszytn, Poland where we had booked a steam-train experience for Dad and to see some cities and museums for me. We did well at achieving both these aims.

We used our local airport, London Southend, an anachronism as its in neither London or Southend, which was really helpful seeing as the flight was early and it was the end of the Olympics. The flight was speedy and soon we arrived in Amsterdam and grabbed some much needed caffeine next to a sex museum which offered to ‘tell you the history of sex throughout all time’ for the small some of 4 euros, needless to say we declined.

(Even Mona gets thirsty!)

A long rail journey to Berlin followed, our first brush with the slower pace of interrail travel, feeling we stopped at every hamlet between Amsterdam and Berlin, but appreciating the countryside nonetheless. After a brief mix up, we got off the train at ZooGarten instead of Hauptbahnhof, we met the lovely Lalo Calado who had made us hand-drawn maps and found us some metro maps. A very gracious host had prepared a spacious room, complete with German flat-mate to await us. We had a swift Italian near his house and I ordered all the food in German, colour me smug!

The next day after an incident that I can only call miraculous, Dad and I did a quick swoop of Berlin before heading for Poland. Dad stood by the Brandenburg Gate looking at the site of the Berlin wall for a full five minutes just saying, ‘wow’. My Dad was 12 when the Berlin wall was constructed and it was still standing when I was born; he felt the full weight of ‘history as current affairs’.

The train to Wolsztyn was a definite upgrade on the day before, only an hour and a half and in compartments. Acknowledging Leighfield’s truth, ‘you are quiet but you are there, you are whispering through the world’ (Whispering) I really enjoyed our trip into the unknown. Poland struck us immediately with its flat immenseness. A land very much under-construction, but still featuring tractors on the highways. We were picked up by a slightly dubious chauffeur, who knew you could text and drive at the same time (!), and driven to the village.

Dad was in heaven, surrounded by Prussian steam engines and free to roam the engine shed. We enjoyed getting to know the little town of Wolsztyn with its cheap eateries, newlyweds taking their wedding photos infront of engines and complimentary wifi (in the middle of the lake – something makes me think they were trying to get rid of the teenagers!). We made the most of the Goulash soup (cue, ‘its never Goulash day!) and the local beverages.

(One of three couples I saw posing near the hulking beasts!)

The next day, having had our original steam plans thwarted by a ‘fault’, we got the modern train to the local city of Poznan. On the train we were travelling through ‘Great Escape’ territory and it struck me that you would have to have run a long way before you were safe in that flat, agricultural land. It was also on the train we heard about Claire’s A level results and Dad noticed, with much nostalgic sadness, that the stations were in disrepair.

(Station Demise)

Poznan is a city on the move, it is expanding all the time. It has got a very pretty town centre dating back centuries and  including a picturesque town hall (16th century), the main feature of which is a pair of rams which butt-heads at 12 noon. We enjoyed some pretty looking coffees in a garden cafe but I got bitten to shreds. We visited two museums in Poznan, the first was a traditional town museum at the Town Hall, think Cologne or Dusseldorf Statt Museum but less interactive. The second museum blew our minds. It was hidden in the base of the new cultural centre at Poznan and concerned the Poznan Uprisings particularly, 1956 when many people lost their lives in the protest. There were two things that struck me about the exhibition, the first was that neither me nor Dad knew anything about it, and the second was how effective the museum was; it featured a variety of media from propaganda museums to mock-up cells and original artefacts. All of the audio was available in four languages including German and English and the layout was imaginative making use of old tram cars and hiding speakers in blocks of concrete. Made the single use of my ‘Polish’ app in order to ask the lady where the toilet was and took a rather emotional father back to the railway station. Poland is not England, heath and safety does not exist, so when we needed to change platform to board our train the only thing to do was jump off the platform, cross the tracks and climb the other one, quite a feat when you’re wearing a dress! Returning to more depressing news about the ‘train fault’ I wondered whether we’d been fooled into a con; we made conversation with our host who had lived in Great Wakering, this would not be our last brush with Essex in Poland.

(Poznan Town Hall)

Despite the initial problems Dad did get to drive his steam engine in Poland but not until Friday afternoon; impatient to meet Berlin in more detail I went on ahead. On the platform I was nervously waiting for the train in the Polish lady, making conversation with the lady (phew!) who had driven me to the station. A hopeful, tired man and his bike rolled towards us asking, ‘Do you speak English?’. This man turned out to be Mel, he’s a teacher in Southend who was cycling from Southend to St Petersburg who’d had a bad run of luck. We spent most of the trip to Berlin praying we were on the right train (the station commander only spoke Polish) and marvelling at the small size of the world; even the train had gone through Sopot (twinned with Southend!).

Tune in on Monday for Part II. Berlin.

Perfect Strangers - Footlights Review

I have really been enjoying the good weather lately, afforded us by the Olympic weather gods in London. In the space of one week I’ve done Camberwell, the South Bank, St Katherine’s Dock and Little Venice.

I went to Little Venice to watch a sketch show by Footlights in a little theatre above a pub; productions above, or below, pubs are often my favourites; there is something authentic and intimate about performances above pubs. My pub meal was both affordable and delicious by the way (see below).

(my dinner at Canal Club*Perfect Strangers*Paddington Basin)

The Footlights are celebrating their fiftieth year at the Edinburgh Fringe. Fifty years ago an intrepid troop comprising; Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graham Chapman, Ian Lang and John Cleese, produced by some guy called Trevor (Nunn!) headed for Edinburgh. Next you will need a bit of Cambridge context. In Cambridge freshers are invited into ‘families’ for their pastoral care in the opening weeks of their time. Surprisingly comedy runs in my Cambridge ‘genes’ as both my Cambridge ‘Dad’ and my Cambridge ‘grandson’ are Footlighters and current comedians in their own right; perhaps I was just the carrier?! My Cambridge grandson was in this year’s quartet of genius.

This show is funny. It features excellent writing, wittily combining a number of story lines into subtle but evident themes – I think Ryan O’Sullivan will go far. All the funniest tropes, aliens, politicians, daughters, husbands, and neurotic mothers were present. The comedic value in scenes often relies on wordplay and context, the jokes work twice – once when you only know some context and three times as funny when five minutes later, you understand the backstory – a tactic often employed by Sheeps a Cambridge alumni comedy troop. The show was directed by Abi Tedder and Jonny Lennard; the former’s impact on the performance was evident as the style of the comedy was thoroughly reminiscent of the ADC pantomime 2009 which she co-wrote (Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves). 

I really enjoyed the threads too of my Cambridge experience; the cast features two Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic graduates (no mean feat when the average number of ASNACs in a year across the university is 25!) and similarly two out of five cast (three if we’re counting crew!) were alumni of Homerton, my dear alma mater. It was good to feel so connected to a show that amused me in an hour, featured my own Cambridge relatives, was preceded by good food and good beer and gorgeous weather. Also did I mention it was good value for money.

The good news is you can still catch this show. I changed the habit of a life time and caught the show at the start of its run rather than the end. ‘Perfect Strangers’ is showing at the Pleasance Dome at the Edinburgh Fringe between 2^nd and 27^th August, then tours America from 4^th – 22^nd September (catch it if it comes near you Tommy!), British schools (25^th-29^th Sept) and then returns to Cambridge for Freshers’ Week (2^nd -6^th October). Genuinely, this was funny and did not feature any ‘student’ references – you’ll love it. Go!

High Profile East End

I don’t know if its because the Olympics are just around the corner but the East End is everywhere at the moment!

It all started a few weeks ago with a BBC programme on the changing character of Billingsgate Market (an East End fish market). It profiled how the changing demographic and economic climate in East London had affected the market and its patrons through the eyes of real people whose lives were affected by the change. It was interesting to see how national and international phenomena (fish stocks) affected the individual.

In the newspaper I read that the Cockney sparrow is now near extinct from competition in East London, and the number of real Cockneys (born within the sound of Bow Bells) has also declined severely because noise pollution in the city means the sound can barely be heard beyond Shoreditch Market (read it here). If the East End were a UNESCO site they might be about to lose their funding for failing to meet its cultural definitions! I guess this means we have to look for new definitions of an ‘East Ender’ based on our modern spatial markers, like within sight of the Gherkin, something increasingly difficult to do when we are less spatially distinct. Although I did hear someone say on the Tube the other day that ‘London is still a number of separate towns’; the districts of the City are still indeed distinct but summing them up into one statement of their cultural identity would prove difficult. The districts of London continue to fascinate me.

I have also read a book about the East End recently called, ‘The Sugar Girls’. It was about a group of girls who all worked at the Tate and Lyle factory in Plaistow, not so far from Billingsgate. The book was based on a memory project carried out by the authors, Barrett and Calvi, in Old People’s homes and Community centres, noting down ladies’ stories. It was interesting to see the patterns that pervaded throughout the book for the women of the factories relating to independence, careers, love and friendship . Whilst recognising that things had changed with technological advances and immigration to the area the women retained a great fondness for their area and the friends they had made. The book made me keenly aware of the CSR function that factories used to have towards their own workers; taking them on holidays to the seaside and ensuring women under intense pressure took paid leave to recuperate. The authors also did humour really well in their storytelling.

Somewhat tenuously I wanted to add my trip to see Sweeney Todd into this blogpost. The story of The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is expertly told at the Adelphi Theatre; Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton were good but my major support goes to Gillian Kirkpatrick who played a mad woman excellently. Although theoretically Fleet Street is w1 it still just about meets East London and the portrayal of London culture in the musical was really interesting, Mr Pirelli perhaps being the Victorian East London archetype, and provoked much internet searching as to what a ‘Beadle’ was. Even the bustle of the streets as portrayed in the musical is reminiscent of much of London life, all that shouting and a fair deal of coarseness, street food provided because there is no time to sit down, running because there is no time to walk and lots of smoke; this came into its own in the smog last week, I finally understand why it is called the ‘Big Smoke’.

Rain, Bicycles and Storytelling

As per usual I have really taken my time putting this together but this is not a reflection on the performances; they were so good that they are still impressed on my memory 3 weeks later.

I had the great pleasure of being invited to TailSpin's, ‘Night of the Storyteller’ at The Miller Pub, London. It is held on a monthly basis and features storytelling from a number of actors musicians around a central theme; this time it was rain and bicycles (that most common of themes!). Being a little early I popped round the corner for some food and discovered the joy of, AbStarv but that is a story for another time. The Storyteller venue is upstairs in a pub enabling that most wonderful combination of, food delivered to table and excellent entertainment to combine in glorious harmony; I know that sounds like hyperbole but it is the truth. I sat eating my mini-carrot cake in anticipation, admiring the ‘rain’ and intrigued by what would follow.

(photo credit: B. Sherlock)

First up was Seán O’Shah who told us a tale of epic proportions, of a brilliantly gory princess forced into marriage. I really loved the playful way Seán interacted with the trope throwing in some gritty and downright hilarious realism to boot. I think more heroines should be built like Seán’s; she would have been most at home with Sanders’ Snow White.

In the interlude there was musical entertainment covering the contents of one’s mind whilst thinking in a conservatory during the pouring rain, and we were straight on to story 2. Another epic tale this time of a princess locked in a tower. Nothing unusual about that I hear you cry, but does your maiden have; an unexpecting poor man fall asleep in the carcass of a bull, who is then carried to the tower, and the pair fall immediately in love much to the horror of her royal father?! Yeah, I didn’t think so!

The real pièce de résistance was the story of Anansi the West African spider performed by the magical Cat Gerrard and Bel Sherlock. These two have got great imagination in the way they produce pieces and they are so entertaining, Cat’s story-telling education is patently obvious. Bel and Cat brought a cast of spiders to life on stage; and you know I could actually see this Trickster-spider, his wife and the fields where they waited for rain. What really stood out for me was the multi-sensory experience, they danced, they sang, they jumped and they even played a bicycle. Yes, you did read that right, Bel used a bike as percussion; everything from the thudding of inner-tubes for rain to knocking on main-frames. The bike, which Bel uses every day to get to work, was well and truly explored; I am quite intrigued to know how she discovered the under-side of her bike made such noises! The use of common instruments for extraordinary use in this production was reminiscent of Young’s adaptation of The Old Man and the Sea.

(my photo of Bel and bike, 'Trevor')

This night was great entertainment and good value at just £5, the next Night of the Storyteller is Thurs 21^st June - its going to feature cross-dressing Norse gods, needless to say it is going to be entertaining, and it is in my diary!

Shakespeare and Plan B - liminal artists and easy bedfellows?

Over the last couple of weeks I have been considering the role of artists (verbal, musical, theatrical, sculptural etc.) in society and specifically their ability to criticise politics.

Traditionally artists were kept on the edge of society, as travelling minstrels at Medieval courts or Elizabethan theatre players, or secluded artists, like Picasso, they formed micro-communities with their own social rules. They are citizens of their own countries but they are also uniquely placed to comment on society, as quasi-strangers in their own lands.

Throughout time the Arts have had this function, in Romeo and Juliet Shakespeare comments on Elizabethan social reform resound throughout Romeo and Juliet, where the Prince proclaims new rules and the protagonists fall foul of a system that cannot understand,  ‘What, ho! you men, you beasts/That quench the fire of your pernicious rage/ With purple fountains issuing from your veins’. In Hamlet Shakespeare similarly puts up a mirror to the Jacobean approach to monarchy (The King and the Playwright).The ability to critique contemporary government and society did not end with Shakespeare, at the Queen’s Jubilee arts evening Hockney said, ‘I don’t think we can quite rely on governments to see the bigger picture so we need the Arts’. Interesting that the Arts can say things that politicians or people in other contexts can’t.

The social commentary in Romeo and Juliet (when the men are brawling on the street) came to mind recently when I was listening to Plan B’s ‘ill Manors’. Music has long been the refuge for protest music; the Sex Pistols released the controversial  ‘God Save the Queen’ in the year of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee. Plan B uses his song to critique the current government’s policies impact on the poor to widespread acclaim. Showing the foolishness of Cameron’s hug a hoody, ‘He’s got a hoodie on give him a hug...on second thoughts you don’t want to get mugged’, the Olympics, how the poor can take advantage of the benefits system and accuses Boris of ‘rob(bing) them (Londoners) blind’. He can be quite clever with his wordplay, ‘We’ve got an eco-friendly government; they like to preserve our natural habitat’. His song can be summed up in his satirical play on the Conservative statement, ‘There’s no such thing as broken Britain, we’re all bloody broke in Britain’. These statements would be very weighty coming from the mouths of the protester but somehow from the mouth of a pop singer it encounters no such censorship. It has been played on all the major music channels and has been bought as a pop song by thousands, entering the UK charts at number 6. What is so special about the medium of song that makes that kind of commentary acceptable? (you can watch the video here)

Like Shakespeare, Plan B walks an interesting line here. Plan B samples Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony, which just sounds like ‘classical music’, getting into bed with Conservative values, but the classical piece was created as a reaction to Nazi militarism, what does that suggest? Shakespeare counted the royals amongst his patrons but what does his generous portrayal of Henry VIII say to a Stuart court? And is Shakespeare’s Henry VI, part I an attempt to boost patriotism or a stern critique of it, just as England is fighting off the Spanish Armada?

What do you think the role of the ‘artist’ is in society? Do they even have a place? I’d be interested to know your thoughts.

North Rhine Westmania!

Wrote this piece for Doppelpunkt. Thought I'd share it with you guys.

I had some holiday to use at work so I decided to spend a week and a half in North Rhine Westphalia. Although I made brief forays into other countries; namely Holland and Belgium the main focus of the trip were three German cities, Düsseldorf, Aachen and Cologne.

I flew into Düsseldorf from London on a warm Monday evening. The airport felt really big but I think this was mainly because I couldn’t find my host. Once reunited with my friend the first exciting thing about my return to Germany was my first ride on a double-decker train. I imagine, if you live in Continental Europe, the thought of a train on two levels is not that unusual but in England they don’t exist; between that and the Sky Train I was quite enamoured of the German rail system.

Düsseldorf, like the airport, was bigger than I expected. I particularly enjoyed the old town, complete with Schneider Wibbel immortalised in music and metal, little town squares and gorgeous waterfronts. Their rich heritage in Persil and other soaps is celebrated in the town museum which boasts a large collection of artefacts and trilingual signs. The other wonderful part of Düsseldorf to visit is the harbour. Like much of the rest of Europe, the old industrial parts of the country have been salvaged through architectural innovation. The arty office blocks make for an interesting view but if nature is more your thing there is also a really nice Rhine walk in this area complete with little beaches. Like many German cities Düsseldorf’s public transport is comprehensive...but one word of warning, don’t trust the station names. Getting off the train at Düsseldorf Zoo Station will not lead you to Düsseldorf Zoo but an ice-rink, the zoo was destroyed in the Second World War.

Stroking Schneider’s Nose. Düsseldorf.

For the majority of my trip I was based in Aachen, staying at a backpackers hostel. I was taking a bit of a leap because usually I only stay in HI hostels; but I found the backpackers hostel to be much friendlier, more homely and, importantly for a girl on foot, more central than its competitor. Aachen is a great German city to visit; it has got impressive regional, national and international transport links. The old town has some lovely places to visit; Charlemagne’s Cathedral, a UNESCO site with an impressive treasury, the Town Hall, again Carolingian in origin and now featuring an impressive multi-sensory museum, and lots of pretty little streets with a surprising amount of remaining architecture for a city that was 80% blitzed. It is hard to verbalise my love for this city but one of the things I really like is how truly international it is; the last big city before the border with both Holland and Belgium it is not unusual to hear at least three different languages at once. Several of my shopping experiences have started in German and ended in English via French! This attitude is echoed in everything from the architecture to the food and the music that I’ve heard in Aachen. That and the ice cream from a little parlour called Del Negro is the best I’ve tasted outside of Italy; they’ve got loads of flavours, the portions are huge, the prices are small and they even let you do half and half!

Amazing Aachener Eis!

Finally I wanted to write a little about Cologne. It took me a while to visit Cologne because of the loyalty I felt to other parts of Westphalia. The rivalry runs so deep that to ask for Kölsch in an Altbier region is really quite offensive! But Cologne was lovely. The riverside at Cologne is much photographed and with good cause. A similar size to Düsseldorf but very aware of its historic context, where Aachen is built in circles, Düsseldorf builds in squares and lines. Nowhere is this more evident than in comparing the Cathedrals of both towns. Aachen circular and Carolingian, Cologne is tall, gothic and towered. The city museum showcased just how aware the people of Cologne were of their cities relevance. The town had, for a long time, been able to harness all the local resources, and become a powerful independent city. That power had been seized on occasion for good and for very bad uses but I felt the museum dealt with this subject gracefully. There was lots to do in Cologne even on a national holiday; I reckon I could have spent more days there and still not have been bored.

In sum then, I really enjoyed my return to West Germany; the challenge of communicating in foreign languages, walking through foreign climes and discovering new cities. I hope you will consider visiting North Rhine Westphalia and discover its charms for yourself.

Randolph and Ashmolean.

So last weekend my cousin got married, congratulations Katy and Ahilan. This was a great excuse to be in Oxford and indulge in a luxuriant weekend.

The Randolph Hotel is on Beaumont Street in the centre of Oxford. My sat-nav knew exactly where it was and my own eyes soon attested to its presence! See photo below.  I drove to the entrance and our valet took over from there. Apparently valets are quite normal in America but I have to say it was a first for me; and my Mum definitely cleaned the car before we set off! Inside customer service was prized with concierge and many complimentary services on offer.

Chillin with a paper

 I have to say though, that we did spend time in queues, get delivered twice as many Sunday papers as we’d like and receive a visit from a member of staff ‘checking the mini-bar’. So the room itself cost just over £200 (definitely the most my parents ever spent on a room, me too!) and for that we got a twin room complimentary tea, coffee, hot chocolate (including cream as a milk option!) water (sparkling and still), an ensuite with some small toiletries (and a confident reminder that if I were to make a souvenir of my bath towel I was to enquire as to its sale price at reception!). Our beds were Egyptian cotton and we also had a writing desk, arm chair and footrest, complimentary wifi and of course, a trouser press. We decided in the main to avoid the mini-bar and 24-hour room service (you could even have your herring brought to you in the morning!). Our experience over night actually left me a little disappointed; the room was uncomfortably warm or noisy depending on whether you used the fan or not, the industrial fans outside also made for a noisy evening. I would also say however, that my parent’s room on the other side of the building, overlooking the Ashmolean museum was quite tranquil and beautiful, they had no such complaints. Perhaps it is luck of the draw. And as we were a family of four at a wedding it was so nice not to feel joined at the hip!

Writing my last blog

The hospitality on the other hand was brilliant. The reception venue was very smartly decorated, even the children’s menu had adult portions, our food was very tasty and the customer service was really good; just the right level of interaction and invisibility. I also had the good fortune of visiting the famous ‘Morse Bar’ and watched them make me a Mojito on my room tab (thanks Mum!), it was truly worth the £10.50 rivalling my local London favourites, Sophie’s.

As I mentioned earlier the hotel is across the road from the Ashmolean and remembering the occasion my Anglo-Saxon history lecturer claimed to have stolen the ‘Alfred Jewel’ from the Ashmolean I decided it was time to pay this place a visit. I will make the caveat now that I only had an hour. The first thing that struck me was a resemblance to the British museum; the fusion of old buildings with new architecture that makes the most of the light. Also like the BM it had an orientation space which serves to prepare the visitor for thinking about culture and provides information on the different exhibitions which are organised geographically then chronologically. Interestingly also like the British Museum I thought there was a noticeable lack of African archaeology on display. Plenty of Middle Eastern, Indian and European pieces but no African and a similar bias towards ‘classical archaeology’. The European Early Medieval Room was worth visiting if you are an ASNAC or British antiquarian, plenty of strap ends and beakers, armour and of course the Alfred jewel; it was photographing badly on the day I was there. But as far as I was concerned their visible early Medieval collection was nothing extraordinary; you’d have seen as much in that archaeology seminar with Geake.

Christopher Wren as a young man.

The other place that the Ashmolean reminded me of was the Louvre. My sister and I visited the Louvre in February and I noticed it was full of brightly coloured hallways with European paintings, hung upon the walls for contemplation. The Ashmolean had many themed rooms including one quite large room dedicated entirely to Dutch still life! If I had one complaint about the Ashmolean it would be that it seemed dominated by the interests of earlier Oxford academics; the room full of Russian ceramic and the Dutch still-life came from benefactors who had given large collections as represented by these large rooms. What the Ashmolean did well was partner the contemporary with the ancient. A sculpture exhibition put modern sculptures of Olympic sports up against classical statues in an attempt to get the public thinking about national feeling and the human body. Similarly their exhibition on conservation was inspired; lots of fun and not only for children! The picture below is me playing with a piece that counts the number of touches various materials can take before they fall apart. It was interesting.

Bodies: Ancient and Modern

Please Touch, interactive conservation.

So in conclusion, I enjoyed the bit of Oxford that I saw. Admittedly I didn’t actually go beyond Beaumont Street other than when I drove the car in. Being light blue for a start I wouldn’t have wanted to dirty my shoes...I jest. There were other priorities. I enjoyed my family time and what I saw of Oxford. I might even go back if only to taste more of the Morse Bar menu.