third time's charming so far

07 November 2009

Right. I'm a week into my third NaNoWriMo outing. I've been able to keep up with about a 2000-words-a-day writing goal. I do this solely because I know I will come to a dragging point somewhere in this month where I either won't feel like writing or can't get the words out or get bored or get stuck, so may as well get ahead now in anticipation of The Slump.

I'm a bit more tool-oriented with this attempt. I've been using Dr. Wicked's Write or Die software to do 500-word sprints, which makes getting to 2000 words a day that much easier. It gives real-time word counts as I type. It keeps me focused on getting words down and doesn't allow for distractions. Thank you, Dr. Wicked.

I did a lot of prep work - character bios, plot storyboards, and research - which helped me come up with more detailed characters and storylines. I wish I were a pantster like Joe-the-office-roomie is (oh, how I envy him!). But I'm not. I gotta plan. In fact, I nearly filled up an entire notebook with notes for this novel.

I'm posting my word counts on Twitter every day, too. Nothing like accountability to get one's fingers on the keyboard.

I also came across this great post about how to get the writing done. It's helpful, funny, and a bit, um, salty, in the language. I got my sprints idea from this article.

I've already noticed a few things about this attempt. In some ways, it's easier. I've done this twice before. I know how long it takes me to get out 2000 words a day. I know my procrastination tendencies. I know where I tend to get stuck in plots and ways I can get unstuck.

In other ways, it's harder. Coming up with yet another story. Grappling with an ever-more-vigilant internal editor (there are downsides to MFA training). Trying to make sure I don't neglect cello practice.

And speaking of cello practice, it plays a large part in my story. As does Oxford. Two things that have made recent and strong impressions on me, although I'm still working out why that is. It's not quite "write what you know." It's more "write what you learn about and recently discover that holds your attention and enthusiasm." Karen-the-acupuncturist thinks that since I have British ancestors through my mom's family, something may have got jangled/resonated/woken up in my DNA while I was in the UK. It could happen. It could also be that I've been listening to too many Jacqueline du Pre recordings. She was an extraordinary cellist and was born in Oxford.

And in a lot of ways, it's different. Now that I'm on the completed side of an MFA degree, I scrutinize stories more than ever for pacing, plot, and how well description is balanced with action and dialogue. This is helpful as far as making sure all these things are covered, and hopefully will make revision easier. It does take a drop of fun out of it, though.

I'm pushing myself to write longer and more complex scenes. Really digging in for a complete picture of what's going on. I think having done all the detailed story planning has helped with this.

I can also tell as I work on this piece that I am a description junkie. I need a strong sense of character background and setting to feel anchored and oriented in the story (and I've always liked the adage, "write what you want to read"). This is probably why A.S. Byatt's Possession is one of my favorite books. Every character has a detailed back story that you get to read in the novel. Not to mention all the detail about research in academia. Some people find this tedious reading. I think it's fascinating. Probably too much so. But even now, I still find it hard to believe that Ash and Christabel don't actually exist. That's how well-written these two fictional Victorian poets are in the story. I think all the detail and description works in Possession because it's relevant to the story. I've adopted that as a writing strategy - I'm allowed to write all the backstory and description I want, provided it's relevant to the story. (I'll probably take half of it out during revision anyway.)

And finally, this year's attempt is contemporary fiction. And serious and slightly depressing contemporary fiction at that. No fantasy, no ghosts, no science fiction, no magical realism. That's a new one for me. And yet, I still want to write this story, so there must be something to it, right?

Oh, and there's something else.

Perhaps it's because I've been on hiatus for two years, but I'm noticing a lot of backlash to NaNoWriMo. "It's not 'real' writing." "A gazillion wannabe writers writing bad fiction which makes 'real' writers look bad." "Do these people have nothing better to do this month?" And those are the tame ones.

Hmm, I never realized that writing, or in a larger sense, creativity, was an elitist thing that only certain people should be allowed to do. I must have missed that.

I think NaNoWriMo is so appealing to people because it's accessible and fun. There are 152,897-and-counting people making an effort to write a story this month. Think of how much collective creative energy that is! And the organizers get big-name writers to write pep talks to e-mail to participants - people like Tom Robbins, Sue Grafton, Neil Gaiman, Philip Pullman, Katherine Patterson, Meg Cabot, Jasper Fforde. And quite a few people have revised and published their NaNoWriMo projects. (And no, not self-published; we're talking published by Harper Collins, Ballantine, Berkeley, Penguin, and Simon & Schuster, among others.)

People have all kinds of reasons for doing something like this. Some might have always thought they "had a book in them." Some might just want to check it off their bucket list, and could care less about revising it and getting it published. Some might be curious to see how hard it is to do. Some may have internal editors that are that mean and nasty and have made them stop writing novels countless times, and they hope this is the way to finally get as much of it written as possible, especially with the kind of support you get from the organizers and fellow writers. Some may be trying to quit cigarettes or alcohol or drugs and need a distraction. Some may be unemployed and need to feel like they're taking an action instead of letting themselves get worried or depressed. Some may have just found out they have cancer or some chronic or degenerative disease or that a relative has died and they need to take their minds off it or they need to write about it so they don't go crazy. Some might be trying once and for all to squash the voice of their 7th-grade teacher or their parent who said they were a bad writer and want to show them a thing or 50,000. Some may just want to write a story for their children or their family or for the kids they teach. Some may do it because their kids are doing it through the Young Writers Program and they've devised some sort of treat they'll enjoy together if they both finish. They're all valid reasons.

I first tried it in 2005 because I had just broken up with a boyfriend. I needed to take my mind off it. I didn't want to be lying in my darkened bedroom for weeks on end. I didn't want to turn into a binge eater. I didn't want to mope and drive my family and friends crazy. So I wrote a ghost story instead. I felt like that much less of a failure after 50,000 words came out in a month. In fact, I cried once I'd passed the 50k mark. And I became addicted to writing. I participated in NaNoWriMo in 2006, and then I took a two-year break to work on my MFA. My advisor was all for me taking my 2005 draft and turning it into my thesis. I added 40,000 words to it, and revised and rearranged and fiddled with it. I now have a hefty university-printed version, and the manuscript is making its way electronically in the world. No takers yet, but I'm hopeful.

I didn't do it the first time because I wanted to write a novel that I could eventually publish. I did it because I needed help to get through my pathetic and unimportant-to-everyone-in-the-world-but-me little heartbreak. And it worked. Someone's actually going to tell me I had no business doing this because my reason wasn't good enough? Seriously?

What can anyone possibly have against a bunch of people who want to have a creative fling for a month? I say let 'em have fun with literary abandon!

How is everyone else's story coming along during NaNoWriMo 2009?

AoC - Day the Sixth: in which I decipher illegible handwriting and poke around in England's attic

18 October 2009

I spent Friday morning at the British Library, which is near St Pancras station.

Here's the church tower at St Pancras.



Here's a sculpture of Isaac Newton using a compass to measure the Universe - this is right in front of the British Library:


You know what I'm about to say about taking pictures inside, right? Good. I won't repeat myself then.

The library, just like the Bodleian in Oxford, is a copyright library, not a lending one. It holds a copy of everything printed or recorded in English in Britain. There are miles and miles of underground vaults that hold all this stuff, and they keep adding miles every year. Essentially, they're the UK's version of the Library of Congress.

You can apply for a reading card, provided you have some legit research purpose and can supply documentation and credentials.

So why bother going to visit it, you might ask?

Well...

They love to tease the public by displaying some of their holdings in a few dimly lit rooms, collectively referred to as the Ritblat Gallery. In these rooms, you can see (and hear) some amazing treasures.

There's Jane Austen's writing desk, for example, a small dark wood thing with slots at the top for pens and and ink bottle. On top of this is her handwritten manuscript for Persuasion, open to Chapter 24, as well a volume of her notebooks. Next to that is Charlotte Bronte's handwritten manuscript of Jane Eyre, opened to Chapter 38 ("Reader, I married him.").

There's a whole section devoted to Shakespeare, of course. Some of the earliest folios are here, as well as pieces by Marlowe, Donne, and Johnson.

I listened to recordings of William Butler Yeats, James Joyce, and Seamus Heaney reading from their work. Yeats read his "Lake Isle of Innisfree" as though he were almost chanting it, and his accent is wonderful.

I saw Oscar Wilde's handwritten edits to "The Ballad of Reading Gaol," a note written in Sylvia Plath's own, rather grade-school-looking, hand (fat letters with circles over i and j), and Virginia Woolf's handwritten notes for Mrs Dalloway.

You can also see handwritten Beatles lyrics - Help, Ticket to Ride, and Yesterday, specifically.

The Gutenberg Bible was impressive - not just because it was the first example of mass producing books, but also because of the illuminations decorating the pages.

Just beyond this was a case displaying pages from Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks. You can read his notebooks online, but it's not the same as seeing them with his drawings and doodles in them, and the writing in his own hand.

There's another little room dedicated to the Magna Carta. There are five or six copies in existence. This document is as important to the British as the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence are to Americans.

Down the hall from this gallery is an exhibit that focuses on T.S. Eliot, since he was recently voted Britain's favorite poet. Not bad for a Missouri-born man who didn't become a British subject until he was 39. I loved seeing his typewriter - one of three he owned in his lifetime. There's a piece of paper still in it. I remember reading Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats when I was a kid (love the drawings by Edward Gorey!). And then I read "The Lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock" in high school, and "The Wasteland" in college. Sometimes, it's hard to believe they were all written by the same person.

He worked for many years as editor for Faber and Faber. He was also a friend and mentor to Ted Hughes, whose writing I admire the more I read it. One famous photo shows Eliot and a young Hughes at a party with Louis MacNeice, WH Auden, and Stephen Spender. I wish the gift shop had had a postcard of that photo.

One of Ted Hughes' journals is displayed near this picture, and it's open to the page on which he recorded his reaction to the news of Eliot's death. He would have written this on 5 January 1965. Here's my transcription of it, as best I could get from his handwriting:

A told me casually "T.S. Eliot died yesterday" - like a crack over the head, exactly, followed by headache. Heavy aftereffects. I've so tangled him into my thoughts as the guru-in-chief, and dreamed of him so clearly and unambiguously that this will have consequences for me.

Another feature on display is the book collection of George III. The books are housed in glassed-in bookcases in the very center of the library, and the cases go up several floors (I think there are six floors in the library). George III willed his collection (65,000 printed volumes, pamphlets, manuscripts, and maps) to George IV, who bequeathed it to the nation, and it remains the library's "core," hence its placement in the center of the building.

I'm generally not one for gift shops, although I know the Doctor loves them and thinks every place should have one. However, I made an exception for the British Library's "little shop," because it was packed with books you won't often find at a regular bookstore. I managed to contain my purchases to Oscar's Books and The Hawk in the Rain and a bookmark, but there were so many others I would have gotten, had it not been for the thought of having to haul them back to the States in my luggage. I wonder if the Library of Congress has a gift shop...

I really thought I had a good handle on museums, having grown up visiting at least one Smithsonian museum every year on school field trips. And then I encountered the British Museum. I couldn't even get the building to fit in the viewfinder of my camera. It's like all the Smithsonians packed into one huge building. I only had an afternoon to see it, and almost immediately, I gave up on trying to see more than what was on the ground floor and first floor.

But guess what? You can take pictures inside! Yay!

One of the first things you see is the Rosetta Stone:



And then to the left and right are large rooms with Egyptian sculptures:





These heads are taller than a tall person, so imagine how big the entire statues would have been:



There were quite a few walls of Humerian relief sculptures:



Relief sculptures from the Parthenon, also referred to as the Elgin Marbles:



Greek statues:





Some Roman British archeological finds:



This was found near Dorset in Hinton St Mary:



I was too overwhelmed at this point and had to leave, especially after I walked through a room that looked like one of those old-time reading libraries with dark wood floor-to-ceiling shelves and display cases with all kinds of neat archeological finds. It would take an hour or two just to see everything in that room. I will need to come back and spend at least two days just wandering through this museum alone.

Since it was my last evening in London, I decided to have a look around the South Bank.

This is The George, one of the oldest pubs in London. Shakespeare and Dickens spent time here. Shakespeare probably even performed here in his early acting days.



Here's a better view of the replica of Francis Drake's ship, The Golden Hinde, in which he circumnavigated the globe. From what I've read, it was far from a pleasure cruise.



The remains of Winchester Palace (this is the west end of what was the Great Hall):


Kudos to whoever realized this was worth preserving.


There's a kitschy prison museum called The Clink - I had it on good authority that it wasn't worth going in:



I wandered through the Borough Market. There was so much to see (and eat) there. It reminded me of Lexington Market in Baltimore.

Shakespeare's troupe used the upper floor of this pub for dressing rooms and costume changes, before dashing next door to the original Globe Theater:



Speaking of which, The Financial Times building (the shiny building - you can just see the FT on the side of it) sits on what is thought to be the original site of the Globe Theater:


I tried to get tickets to see something at The Globe, but since I was visiting in the last days of their performance season, tickets were not as readily available as they would have been earlier in the season.

The cream-colored skinny building with the red door is Christopher Wren's house. He lived here while he was building London.


It just happens to have a great view of what he considered his greatest achievement - St Paul's Cathedral (as seen from the new Millenium Bridge):



I had dinner at the Ebury Wine Bar, which is next door to the hotel. Maple-glazed duck with spinach and mushrooms, and dark magenta-purple blackcurrant sorbet for dessert. Dee-lish!

Saturday morning, I had one last breakfast at the hotel, and then I caught the bus at Victoria Station to get to Heathrow.

So there you have it - my week-long tour of London. I saw just about everything I wanted to see, and I was glad I had a couple of out-of-town trips as well. The highlights for me were the British Library and Oxford. I'll definitely go back. And of course, now I need to see the rest of England. And Scotland. And Wales. And Ireland.

I realize the US has historical places and things to see, but nothing like what you'd find in England, where you can see things that are thousands of years old, not merely hundreds of years old.

Paris next year for my 35th birthday, I think.

AoC - Day the Fifth: in which I see how the royal half lives

15 October 2009

I spent all of last Thursday in Windsor and Eton. It takes about an hour to get to the Riverside or Central train stations from the Waterloo train station. Another 12 pounds well spent.

I saw this amusing sign at the Windsor station:


There's no escaping Jane Austen. I gave up years ago.


You can see the castle from the train station, and it's only about a 10-minute walk to get to it.



It's definitely not isolated with acres of empty fields around it. The village is right across the street:



The Queen says she considers Windsor her home. I found it to be too imposing-looking and museum-like to be a home (I suppose that shows you how of-the-people I am).





As per routine, no pictures allowed inside.

My first stop was Queen Mary's Dollhouse. It's a palace in miniature. The lights and faucets and elevators ("lifts") all work. Many of the pieces inside it are handcarved, handmade, and use materials like marble or silk.

Also in this display room, you can see two 3-foot-tall dolls that were given to then-Princess Elizabeth and her sister Margaret by the children of France. Each doll has her own traveling trunk and a full wardrobe of underclothes and dresses - all handmade, I'm sure.

The royal family's art collection isn't too shabby either - a DaVinci drawing or two and Michelangelo's drawings of royal ancestors are some of the highlights.

They even have their own chapel, which really looks like a full-size church. This is just part of it:


The Queen's parents and grandparents are buried here, along with her sister, Princess Margaret, as well as many other kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Henry VIII is buried with his favorite wife, Jane Seymour (the one who gave him a son who actually lived).

To say the royal family owns a lot of stuff is an understatement. The castle is cluttered with swords, guns, paintings, armor, furniture, statues, and china.

The town is cute and has lots of shops and cafes. I stopped for a roast chicken and chips lunch before going to check out the village of Eton.



The villages of Windsor and Eton are right next to each other, separated by a footbridge going over a cleaner part of the Thames.



And a cleaner Thames:



School was in session at Eton College, and the boys didn't seem at all fazed by all the tourists in the town. Why they should have to dress in tailcoats to sit in a classroom is beyond me.

Eton village looks a lot like Windsor village, but less crowded.



The college was closed to visitors for the season, but I did manage to get this bit of it:



There are a lot of other day trips you can take from London besides Oxford and Windsor - you could go to Cambridge, Greenwich, Bath, and even Paris.

I had dinner back in London at Jenny Lo's tea house, which is just down the street from my hotel. I had a yummy plate of Singapore noodles and a cup of green tea. They put the tea leaves right in the cup, and it's drinkable when the leaves sink to the bottom and you can pick up the cup (no handle on it) without burning your fingers.

Two more stops in tomorrow's post.

AoC - Day the Fourth: in which I climb a lot of stairs and get very soggy

14 October 2009

I forgot to mention in yesterday's post that it costs 12 pounds (about $19 as of this writing) to tour the War Rooms, and it's free to get into the National Gallery.

Onward.

Sometimes life requires a high-protein breakfast, especially when you're up and around, out and about all day long. The Lime Tree Hotel serves what might at first look like a heavy breakfast, but is actually just what you need for a day out - you never know what you may take a fancy to doing, as you will soon see.

The hotel's traditional breakfast includes a scrambled or poached egg, bacon (more like Canadian bacon than the streaky, fatty stuff), a small sausage link, and a side of vegetables, usually mushrooms or grilled tomatoes, plus toast, orange juice, and tea or coffee. All of it served hot and fresh sent up on the dumb waiter from the basement kitchen. And the British are so much more reasonable about portion sizes. You get just enough on your plate to fill you up, but you don't feel overstuffed.

Since a lot of people were staying at this hotel at the time (lower off-season room rates, you know), I never knew whom I'd be sitting with in the cute breakfast room (the brown wallpaper with the Georgian silhouetted faces just teetered between tacky and charming, and the placemats displayed Victorian renderings of some of the famous sites in the city). One of my breakfast companions was a retired gentleman whose wife died of cancer last summer. They had always traveled together. This was his first trip without her, and his five daughters were nervous about him traveling alone. I'd say he was heartier than they gave him credit for. Another couple, a semi-retired civil engineer and his wife, were traveling all over the UK , and had stopped in London for a week. They told me all about sitting on a rock near Hadrian's Wall, eating bacon sandwiches. Another family had "come up from the country" to spend a week "in town." Apparently, if you say you're "going up to town" in the UK, it means you're going to London.

Thus sated with protein, I spent the morning at St Paul's Cathedral. There's a 10-pound (about $16 as of this writing) entry fee. Sigh, no pictures allowed in this one either. But here's the outside:



And here's a statue of Queen Anne, who was ruling when the church was completed.



Here's its garden side:



Five churches have occupied this site over the centuries, the first in 604. Christopher Wren designed the current one. Originally, he was commissioned to repair the previous one, even though he wanted to tear it down and start from scratch. He was overruled, but then the Great Fire of 1666 overruled those who overruled Wren, so he got his way in the end because the old church burned down. Wren's version is open and spacious and light inside the cathedral, whereas Westminster Abbey feels a little cramped and dim, despite its size. The nave doesn't have any adornments or paintings on the ceiling, per Wren's design. But those Victorians just can't leave well enough alone, and they added (some say, overdid) decorative elements near and around and above the high altar later. The ceiling mosaics look as though they're glittering - in fact, the tiles are set at angles to catch the light.

St Paul's was an important psychological symbol during World War II. Since it miraculously withstood 28 bombs dropped on it in one day during the Blitz, then as far as the people were concerned, there was hope for winning the war. Churchill declared that at all costs, St Paul's must be protected, even if that meant sacrificing other buildings. Citizens took turns standing guard inside. Their job was to extinguish any incendiary bombs that might fall in it - only two of the bombs did any damage. Another bomb fell just outside the church, but did not explode. Other citizens hauled it away and defused it. There's a plaque dedicated to these people near the entrance. There are candle stations nearby, too. I paid another 60p and lit a candle for you. And one for them.

The Duke of Wellington has a huge memorial in the middle of the nave. The top of it features a statue of Wellington on his horse. This statue is not without some controversy. First, some thought the horse was sacrilegious, although if I recall my Bible stories correctly, God created animals before creating man, so I don't see what the fuss is about. Copenhagen (the horse) was Wellington's trusty companion. You couldn't have one without the other (Copenhagen even got his own state funeral). Then there was the question of which way the horse should face. If his head faced the altar, his bum would be greeting people as they walked in. Then again, you don't want his bum facing the altar either, so worshipers and visitors were just going to have to look politely in another direction.

You can actually touch Henry Moore's sculpture of the Mother and Child in the north quire aisle. Although it's an abstract piece, it's easy to tell what it represents - birthing, nurturing, protecting, and worrying over a child.

John Donne preached at the Cathedral, and there's a creepy sculpture of him wrapped in a death shroud in one of the alcoves.

Wellington's tomb as well as Admiral Nelson's tomb are in the crypt. Wren's burial plot only has a simple marker (at his request). His epitaph plainly states, "Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you." Florence Nightingale is here as well.

You can get some exercise by climbing the stairs (all 528 of them) to the top of the outer dome, where you can get an amazing view of London. No, there's no elevator, and it's all spiral staircases, some between two walls - sometimes the walls hug you; sometimes you get some space - some are freestanding wrought-iron staircases. There's one way up and another way down - no turning back once you get started.

Of course I climbed them! You expected otherwise?

It's not as bad as it sounds - there are places where you can rest. I approached it like interval training - climb a hundred or so steps to the nearest landing and have a rest, climb the next hundred and then rest, etc. If you're not that ambitious, you can stop off at lower points along the way. The first major stop is the Whispering Gallery (257 steps). This is at the fattest part of the inner dome. The acoustics are so perfect that if you stand on one side of it, and whisper something against the wall, someone on the opposite side, 170 feet away, can hear what you said perfectly, as though you were right next to them - it's true, I tried it with the tour guide. If you lean over the railing, you can see directly down over the altar area.

The next major stop is the Stone Gallery (another 119 steps). You can go outside and see some of the London skyline through the high stone railings. Here are a few pictures I took from there.





Finally, if you're fit and don't give up easily and heights don't bother you, you come out onto the Golden Gallery (the last 152 steps), which has an alarmingly narrow balcony with a waist-high railing, but it goes all the way around the tip of the dome. Some pictures from there:





And then you get to go all the way back down again, squeezing back into this narrow space:



I had lunch in the crypt (what is it with cafes in crypts in this city?), and then I caught a train to Oxford ($11 for a round-trip ticket!). And that's when it really started to rain.

I know someone who works in administration at Oxford, so I was to have a private, half-day walking tour of some of the colleges and the city. I can't say enough nice things about Jonathan and his family for taking time out for me on a cold and wet day.

Many famous people have studied at Oxford, including 25 British Prime Ministers, 30 international leaders, 12 saints, 86 Archbishops of Canterbury, seven poets laureate, and an impressive list of writers such as John Fowles, Theodor Geisel (Dr Seuss), Evelyn Waugh, Lewis Carroll, Aldous Huxley, Oscar Wilde, C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Graham Greene, Phillip Pullman, Percy Bysshe Shelley, John Donne, A. E. Housman, W. H. Auden, and Philip Larkin.

Supposedly, 80% of British university novels are about Oxford, and most of them are written by former students reminiscing about their own days as Oxford students. (I came across this in Oxford: A Literary Guide by John Dougill, which I picked up in a nearby book shop.)

Oxford is a pretty and walkable town, even in a chilly downpour. Jonathan said it’s one of those places in which you can tuck yourself away behind the walls and be happy. I would agree. The world may go insane outside (doesn’t it appear to be doing so lately?), but inside, where the atmosphere is ancient, seen-it-all, laid back, and lacking in hierarchy, you can be safe and content. I could go for that in a minute.







There are 38 colleges in the university, with about 20,000 students distributed among them. Some of the colleges are more well-known than others. The two I peeked into were Christ Church and Magdalen (pronounced "maudlin").

This is the courtyard of Christ Church (well, the left side of it, anyway).



And the right side:



Some of the scenes from the Harry Potter films were shot here. You might recognize this staircase:



The dining hall was the inspiration for the one you see in the Harry Potter films (obviously the one in the films was bigger to accommodate four houses’ worth of kids):



One of the custodians of the college (they're easily recognizable in bowler hats) told us about some of the paintings and stained glass windows.



Henry VIII and Cardinal Wolsey founded the college, which was originally named Cardinal College. However, they had a famous falling out “over a woman,” and Wolsey was kicked out.

Here is the Alice window. Alice is in the lower left corner:



The original Alice (for whom the Alice stories were written) was the the daughter of Henry George Liddell, who was the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University and Dean of Christ Church College. Many of the scenes in the Alice stories were inspired by sites and people in and around Oxford and Christ Church. For instance, there is a small door just behind the high table (where the professors sit) that was the inspiration for the small door Alice tries to fit through. The "Rabbit Hole" was inspired by the stairs at the back of the main hall.

The custodian also told us that some of the paintings were done in such a way that they look as though the heads are slightly turning and following you as you walk down the aisle between the tables.

We also visited Kenneth Grahame’s grave, which was in a quiet and peaceful cemetery crowded with headstones and overgrown grass. I didn’t take a picture of his gravestone, as it seemed disrespectful to do so. The Wind in the Willows is such a wonderful book and great comfort reading. I’d have visited C.S. Lewis’ grave elsewhere in the town, but ran out of time.

Some pictures of Magdalen College:









C.S. Lewis taught here for almost 30 years. In fact, as busy as his academic life was, it’s amazing he found the time to write all the books and essays and speeches that he did. Oscar Wilde studied at Magdalen as well.

I noticed there wasn't any overt signage to let you know which college was which. Jonathan said that was deliberate. Each college is its own entity - if you don't know where a particular one is, you probably don't have any business being there.

Here is a pretty path down to the river.



You can go punting, too. Wasn’t quite up to it due to the weather.



We stopped for some tea in a cafe, and I noticed a woman sitting next to me working on a pastel portrait of two other women who were deep in conversation as a nearby table. I’d have photographed her, but she looked as though she was trying to be inconspicuous, so I didn’t want to blow her cover.

Here’s part of the Bodleian Library - a copyright library, rather than a lending library:



And the Radcliffe Camera, which is also part of the Bodleian:



This place just oozes history, it's overwhelming. The crowning touch - the pub where The Inklings met:



I considered taking a picture of the Rabbit Room inside the pub, but the locals were eyeing me with a "don't even think about it" look, so I passed.

We had a lovely dinner at an Italian restaurant. I had roasted vegetables with duck.

There are few things in my life that I’d change, but I think one of them would be to have gotten a degree at Oxford or Cambridge. I’ve not seen Cambridge yet, but given what I’ve seen of Oxford, it would more than do.

Another day trip in tomorrow's post.

AoC - Day the Third: in which I get claustrophobic and cultured

13 October 2009

At this time of year, the changing of the guards ceremony at Buckingham Palace is performed every other day, and in bad weather, not at all. I was also informed that you can see a similar ceremony at St James Palace, and you can get right up close to it, rather than seeing it through gates.

And did you know that many of the retired royal household staff are given an apartment free of charge in St James Palace until they die? It's call "grace and favor," and seems a nice return from the royal family for services rendered.

I walked through St James Park again on Tuesday morning in hopes that I might catch the ceremony at St James Palace, but the yucky weather was perhaps too much for the soldiers because they weren't even out standing guard, let alone changing themselves around. And yet there I was, a Yankee girl braving the weather. Sheesh.

It wasn't a total loss, though, because I found the horseguards, and the rain let up a bit, so I watched their changing ceremony instead.





My next stop was the Cabinet War Rooms. Not to be confused with the Imperial War Museum. On my way there, I passed this well-known address:


There are gates at the front of the street to keep people from going down to see the Famous Black Door, and they're situated in just such a way that you can't even see The Door from a distance, so the street sign will have to do. (By the way, Margaret Thatcher and Gordon Brown are quite unpopular with the locals.)

There are a ton of memorial statues in London. This is one of my favorites, though. Each outfit represents a different type of work that women did to help the war effort.




Here are some government buildings - administration and finance, I think:


At the other end of those buildings is an inconspicuous and unassuming little entryway to the Cabinet War Rooms. You can see the cluster of people going into it in the lower right corner, and there are still sandbags on top of it:


You guessed it - no pics allowed inside, but here's the description of it:

The Cabinet War Rooms were Churchill's underground headquarters during World War II. It has 27 rooms and was used between 1939 and 1945 to keep the government and the war effort running. The rooms were sealed on August 16, 1945, with everything left just as it was. A group of people lobbied to have it unsealed and turned into a museum in the 1970s. It was opened to the public sometime in the early 1980s.

When people in London talk about "the war," there is only one war they are referring to. London was bombed for 57 consecutive nights. Imagine being down in that bunker and hearing what must have sounded like the end of the world going on above you.

It's dim and cramped down there. Secretaries had sleeping quarters there, and More Important People might have gotten their own small room that contained a small, dark wood desk and chair, a wash stand, and an uncomfortable-looking military-issue bed with thin sheets and blankets. Churchill's personal rooms weren't much fancier, although he did have what looked like a slightly thicker quilt on his bed. Apparently, he only slept there three times.

You can see an open packet of sugar cubes on one military officer's desk. They would have been preciously rationed. A copy of a movie magazine with Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh on the cover is tucked away on a bookshelf. In the Map Room, the walls are covered with maps of the war zones with pins still stuck in them to show military routes. Churchill used the Cabinet Room, which is filled with desks, to meet with his war cabinet and chiefs of staff as well as the Defense Committee. The Transatlantic Telephone Room was connected to a scrambler and allowed Churchill to talk to FDR and plot strategy. This room was a broom closet originally.

There's also a museum dedicated to Churchill down there. You can see his baby rattle, his famous black, fur-trimmed overcoat, a velvet casual jumpsuit (or maybe it's pajamas?), his walking stick, his paint palette, and a state-of-the-art lifeline, which is a 15-meter-long interactive table that displays information from every year of his life, even down to specific weeks and days. Even today, he's considered one of the greatest British statesmen who ever lived.

After my tour of this space, I needed to get back outside. Fortunately, the War Rooms are on a side of St James Park that I hadn't seen yet, so I had stroll in the Park before heading to the National Gallery.

This is a gardener's house - used for display and storage now, rather than living quarters.


I spent the afternoon at the National Gallery, which is just off Trafalgar Square. Not many pigeons there these days - seed sellers are banned.



One entertaining feature of the Square is the Fourth Plinth. It's normally used to display statues. From July 6th to October 14th this year, citizens were invited to do their own thing on it. Each person who volunteers gets an hour on the plinth. Some get up there and dance. Some finish writing novels in the wee hours. Others advertise causes, like this guy (notice the net around the plinth in case you accidentally fall off):


On my way to the Gallery, I stopped for lunch in the crypt of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. Several churches in London have cafes down in the crypts.


The National Gallery has an impressive collection of European art. Again, no pictures allowed. What was most interesting to me was to see how the use of perspective was developed over the centuries - the further on you get, the more dimensional the paintings look. My favorite was probably Holbien's The Ambassadors. Those Italian Renaissance painters could create amazing 3-D images without computers. That weird blob you see on the floor of the painting is actually a skull. If you move to the right of the painting and then walk up close to it, you see the distorted image magically correct itself.

Picadilly Circus is a few minutes' walk from Trafalgar Square, and I hadn't done much shopping yet. I found Fortnum and Mason - the Queen's grocery store - and bought some tea and toffee. The ground floor (what we'd call the first floor) has tea, coffee, cakes, and candy. The basement (they call it "lower ground floor") is the fanciest and cleanest grocery store I've ever seen. You can get cheese, deli meat, fish, wine, fruits and vegetables, and bottles and jars and cans ("tins") of spreads and jellies and whatnot. And don't even get me started on the other floors, which are the department-store sections of the joint.

The Burlington Arcade is on this street as well - it's like a fancy alley of boutiques.

I needed a sit-down by this point (cobblestone streets are murder on the feet), so I went into the courtyard of the Royal Academy. There was a huge outdoor exhibit of what looked like giant silver Christmas balls:


Tomorrow's post is about another church and a trip out of London.

AoC - Day the Second: in which I take a cruise and see (indications of) dead people

12 October 2009

It was actually sunny when I arrived on the 4th, but on the 5th, the rain decided it wasn't worth holding out any longer. No matter, I had a zip-up hoodie jacket AND an umbrella.

Another mode of transport around London is the ferry. If you're going to have a river cut through the middle of your city, you may as well make use of it. I got on the ferry at Westminster Pier, and although it was raining, I climbed up to the open-air seats on top of the boat for a better view while we cruised down the Thames.

Here's the London Eye, which now costs about 17 pounds (about $27 as of this writing) to get a long view of London. It used to be a lot less expensive. It's made of British steel, Dutch engineering, and Czech, German, French, and Italian parts. Some people refer to it as the London Eyesore.



Here's the old Scotland Yard headquarters:

New Scotland Yard was deliberately set up in a crime-ridden area near St. James Park. Consequently, crime was greatly reduced in that area.


Here are the Houses of Parliament and the clocktower that holds Big Ben (which is actually the bell inside the tower). The clock tower was 150 years old this past May.



I have no idea what these buildings are. I just liked the architecture.



Sorry, Joe. I couldn't avoid the London fog.



The Tate Modern (also known as the love-it-or-hate-it art museum).



The Globe Theater, although not on its original site (more about that in another post).



Reports of this bridge's demise have been greatly exaggerated.



This is Tower Bridge. A lot of people mistakenly think it's London Bridge.



I got off the ferry at Tower Pier to go see this place:

The Tower of London. Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard and Lady Jane Gray were executed here. Elizabeth I was imprisoned here by her sister Mary (Bloody Mary), and then Mary died, which made Elizabeth I the new queen. Apparently, in its 900-year history, 8500 people were imprisoned here, and only 120 of them were executed - of those, only 6 were executed inside the complex.

Unfortunately, you can't take pictures inside most of the buildings, but the architecture is interesting too. Bear with me while I describe things more than show them.

William the Conqueror built the White Tower, which is in the center of the complex. The other buildings were added later. The current exhibit in the White Tower features Henry VIII's suit of armor (he was a stocky fellow) and...a lot of other armor and weapons.



The Crown Jewels are displayed in this building:

It's an impressive collection that includes a 12-century coronation spoon, scepters, robes, trumpets, swords, and several crowns. St Edwards Crown is put on the head of every new monarch on his or her coronation day and worn for about 20 minutes. It weighs about 5 pounds and contains 443 precious and semiprecious stones. Queen Victoria's small diamond crown only weighs 4 ounces (she suffered from migraines). She personally paid for this crown, which was made in 1870. I assume it's the same one you see in the pictures of her. The crown of the Queen Mother (the current queen's late mother) has a 106-carat Koh-I-Noor diamond in it. The Imperial State Crown is worn for coronations and the opening of Parliament (YouTube has some great clips of the opening of Parliament). It has 3733 jewels in it as well as Edward the Confessor's ring, which contains a sapphire.

The Yeoman Warders (the Beefeaters) actually live in the Tower complex with their families. I think these are some of the living quarters:



There was one place in which you could take pictures - a chapel. I took this one purely because it was nice to see some color in an otherwise dreary place (excepting the lovely green grass and blue doors in the above picture).



Here's a close-up of the plaque on the floor. It reads: "By tradition, Henry VI died here May 21 1471"



I spent the afternoon at Westminster Abbey - another place in which you're not allowed to take pictures, so more description and architectural photos. Sorry.


Monks used to live and work and worship here, but Henry VIII kicked them out when he broke with the Catholic church and made himself head of the Church of England when the Pope wouldn't grant him a divorce. Kings and queens have been crowned and buried here since 1066. It contains 3000 tombs, 29 of which contain said kings and queens. There are also hundreds of memorials to poets and writers, musicians, scientists, politicians, and military heroes. You can't help but walk on the stone slabs that tell you who is buried beneath them. The exception is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. No one, not even the Queen, walks over that one, out of respect. It is surrounded by poppies, which are said to be the first flower (it's actually a weed, believe it or not) that grew on the battlefields after WWI. You see them mostly around Remembrance Day (November 11 - Veterans Day in the US).

There is a 12-pound fee to get in (about $19 as of this writing). You can come and hear Evensong for free every weekday at 5 pm or on the weekend at 3 pm. The choir was rehearsing while I was taking the tour. I paid 50p and lit a candle for you in the nave.

The north transcept is Statesmen's Corner, and features memorials to and tombs of Prime Ministers. Winston Churchill asked not to be buried here as there were many neighbors he wouldn't get along with.

There's also Scientist's Corner, which includes memorials to Charles Darwin and Isaac Newton.

The raised area behind the altar contains the tomb of Edward the Confessor. He had wanted to visit St Peter's Basilica in Rome, but the politics of the time made that too dangerous a trip. So he built the Abbey and dedicated it to St Peter.

Elizabeth I and Mary I (Bloody Mary) are buried together in one tomb, although only Elizabeth's effigy is on top of it. The face of the effigy was based on her death mask, and therefore is quite an accurate depiction of her.

Elizabeth's rival for the crown, Mary, Queen of Scots, is also buried here, across from Elizabeth's and Bloody Mary's tomb. Are you keeping track of all these people?

The Coronation Chair is displayed behind the altar. It's exactly what it says it is - the chair newly crowned monarchs sit on during their coronations. It's quite beat up and worn-looking. Bloody Mary refused to sit on it because as a Catholic, she would not sit on any chair that her brother, Edward VI, a Protestant, had sat on.

Poet's Corner is in the south transept. There are tombs of and memorials for quite a few people, including Jane Austen, William Blake, the Bronte sisters, Robert Browning, Lord Byron, Lewis Carroll, Chaucer, Dickens, George Eliot, T.S. Eliot, Thomas Hardy, Samuel Johnson (thank him for dictionaries), Ben Johnson (buried standing up, at his request, so as to take up less room), Kipling, Laurence Olivier, Lord Tennyson, Henry James, Keats, Longfellow, Marlowe, Milton, Shakespeare, Shelley, Thackeray, Dylan Thomas, Oscar Wilde, and William Wordsworth.

No one else can be buried in the Abbey now - there's no room. Memorials are still allowed though.

After all that, I was hungry, so I had fish and chips and a side of peas for dinner. Yummy!

AoC - Day the First: in which I arrive and find Oscar down the road

11 October 2009

I arrived at Heathrow on Sunday the 4th after a slightly bumpy six-and-a-half-hour direct flight from Baltimore. I was accidentally smart about this flight - we left around 9 in the evening, and when we arrived in the UK, it was about 9:30 am local time, so my body was tricked into thinking it had gotten the usual amount of sleep (even if it was sitting up), so I didn't suffer too badly from jet lag.

I had one meal on the plane, eggplant and ratatouille, which wasn't bad. I also watched The Lavender Hill Mob - a fun movie with Alec Guinness and Audrey Hepburn in one of her first film roles (she only has a line or two at the beginning).

I was able to get some British currency at a Barclay's ATM. They're affiliated with Bank of America, so no extra charges for withdrawing money. You can get British currency here in the States, but the bank has to order it ahead of time, as they generally don't keep it on hand.

I caught a bus from Heathrow to Victoria Station, which was right near my hotel. It costs about 5 pounds (about $8 as of this writing) and takes about 45 minutes. You can take an express train from Heathrow to Paddington Station, which only takes 15 minutes, but costs 17 pounds (about $27 as of this writing), and then you have to take the tube from Paddington to wherever you need to go, which will cost you extra in time and money. You can also take a taxi from Heathrow to anywhere in London, but that's about 50 pounds (about $80 as of this writing) and also takes about 45 minutes.

I said Victoria Station was near my hotel, and what should have been a five-minute walk turned into more like half an hour because I got completely turned around and ended up near the back of Buckingham Palace. I found my hotel eventually, though.

I stayed at the Lime Tree Hotel on Ebury Street. It's a cute little B&B, with a wine bar restaurant next door, a coffee shop across the street, and a chocolate shop around the corner. It has a lovely breakfast room with a working dumb waiter from which breakfast was sent up from the basement kitchen. It also has a "snug room," which is just what it sounds like - enough room for a small couch and a desk and a couple of bookshelves. This room leads out onto the garden (you can see pics of all this on their Web site, so I didn't bother to take pics of them). It's in the Belgravia neighborhood, and a bit on the upscale side. Several famous people have lived on Ebury Street, including Mozart (lived at 180 Ebury while composing his first symphony), Ian Fleming (wrote the James Bond books, lived at 22b Ebury), Noel Coward (playwright/composer/director/actor/singer, 112 Ebury), and Lord Tennyson (poet laureate in Queen Victoria's time, 42 Ebury). Now, people like Nigella Lawson, Elizabeth Hurley, Andrew Lloyd Weber, Roger Moore, and Margaret Thatcher live in the area.

Moderately priced hotels have far more basic amenities than their counterparts in the US. The rooms are small, the sink is usually out near the beds, and often, it won't have any countertop around it, and you're lucky if you have a private bathroom (I did, fortunately). The B&Bs often don't have elevators, so be prepared to climb a lot of stairs and don't expect them to carry your luggage up for you. This didn't bother me much. After all, I was only going to be sleeping there and spending the rest of my time out in the city, so no need for a fancy place to stay.

A couple of pictures of my room (the sink is maybe a foot and a half away from the desk):





And here's the view from my window:


After a refreshing shower in what felt like the world's smallest shower stall, I decided to walk around the neighborhood to get my bearings and to keep myself awake for the rest of the day. I went back down to Buckingham Palace, but to the front of it, this time.

This is the side of it that everyone recognizes, but it was actually only completed in 1913. The royal standard flag wasn't flying, so the Queen was not in. The area around the front of the palace is pedestrian only, so no worry about cars.

There are some beautiful sculptures on the fountain just opposite the palace.




St. James Park is a little further along. Jane, you were right, I liked it a lot better than Hyde Park. More winding paths and less severe and pristine-looking. Apparently, spies like to meet in this park - MI5 or otherwise.




You can be on the grass in this park, too.


I walked into Chelsea, too, which is about fifteen minutes away. It's considered a separate neighborhood. The cities of London and Westminster were the first ones established in the area, and then villages (now called boroughs) such as Chelsea grew up around them. It's a nice area with wider sidewalks and more space and green than in Belgravia.

I managed to find this house - 34 Tite Street:


It may not look like anything important, but do you see that blue circle on the right next to the lower windows? Here's what it says:


These plaques are everywhere in the country. They are how I know about all the famous people that lived on Ebury Street. This is the house he lived in before he was sentenced to two years of hard labor in prison for "gross indecency" (ie, being gay) in 1895. All of his possessions from this house, excepting the ones rescued by his loyal friend and probable first male lover Robbie Ross, were sold to pay off debts and legal fees. This included a book collection to drool for.

Another thing I noticed while walking around: there are fancy houses on one side of the street, and what are called mews on the other side. In older days, the mews were part of the houses' property and stored the carriages and stables for horses, with living quarters for servants on the upper floors. They're thought to be called mews because in medieval times, they served as falconrys for birds, who apparently sound as though they are mewing. Now they are usually garages or apartments and aren't connected to the fancy houses across the street.

Back in Belgravia, I had dinner in a pub called Grumbles. There's a small dining area down in the basement. It's well-lit, yet still feels cozy. I had grilled salmon and more ratatouille (better than what I had on the plane) and mango sorbet for dessert.

Tomorrow, I widen my horizons.

the adventures of cate

I got back from London yesterday evening. It takes two hours longer to come back to the states from the UK than it does leaving it, due to wind. As the Scottish pilot reminded us (several times) - "You can't fight the laws of physics."

I had a fabulous time - the city is such an amazing mix of historical and modern. I walked and walked and walked some more. I saw many of the popular sites as well as things the locals recommend that aren't as well known. Despite popular belief, every meal I ate tasted really good. Confirming other popular belief, it rained more often than it didn't. I brought back enough tea and toffee to last me well into next year.

I have so much to download, both from my camera and from my head, and there's no way I can do it all in one blog post. Instead, I will write a number of posts over the course of next week, probably one per day. Things I didn't get to see: Harrod's, Hampstead Heath, Bloomsbury, Baker Street, a West End show. However, I'd love to go back sometime, so I'll get to them then.

All of the historical info that I'll include is taken from the notes I took from plaques, signs, tour guides, and the 2009 edition of Rick Steves' London guide book. His guide books are the best I've found - they're updated every year (not many guide books do this), they're written in a conversational and amusing style, and they provide all kinds of recommendations and tips for getting around, what to see (and skip), and how to make the most of your money and not get ripped off. You can get his books from his Web site, as well as from Amazon or from a bookstore.

I'm not as impressed with his maps, though. They're easy to read, and they're waterproof, but the street listings are not as detailed. Several times, I found myself on a street that I couldn't find on the map, and had to walk a block or several to find one that was on the map, and then discovered I was walking in the wrong direction. Plus, fold-out maps can be unwieldy, especially on a windy day. Instead, I found the London Map Guide more useful and user-friendly.

London has a great tube system, and some of the tube stations are also train stations. The map of it looks scary, but I found it quite manageable. There are signs everywhere to direct you. The stations and carriages are clean, and the whole thing is kept in good repair - something is being repaired or upgraded all the time. Considering that the ancestor of the tube system was first used in 1863, it's been well-maintained and updated.

I got a week-long travelcard, which is cheaper than buying a ticket every day, and it gave me unlimited use of the tube and the buses all week within zones 1 and 2, which is a huge area and is where most of what you'd want to see in London is located. If I had stayed longer, I would have gotten an Oyster card.

Everyone is quiet in the tube cars - you don't hear people talking loudly or using their cell phones. Even when I found myself on the trains during rush hour, which really gives one an idea of how many people work in the city, people were still quiet. Packed in like sardines may be a cliched analogy, but it's an accurate one.

Basically, if you're armed with a London street map and a tube map as well as a travel card, there's no excuse for not being able to find your way around.

It was about ten degrees cooler in London than here at home. Layers came in handy - obviously, it was cooler and more windy by the river, whereas it was sweltering in the sub-sub-level tube platforms. An umbrella is a given. Seriously. Keep one with you at all times.

Using the money was an interesting experience. There are one- and two-pound coins, plus larger-denomination bills. Then you have 1 penny (the singular of "pence"), 2 pence, 5 pence, 10 pence, 20 pence, and 50 pence, and the sizes of them don't help to distinguish them easily if you're new to the money. However, British people are, for the most part, polite and friendly, and don't seem to mind taking the time to help you with the correct change.

I heard all kinds of languages spoken wherever I went, and you can get any kind of ethnic food you might be hungry for. And the "traditional" British food is better than people say it is. But please, it's pronounced "pass-tee" not "paste-e."

There are pickpockets around, so a thin money belt or one of those thin wallets you can wear around your neck can help protect your money/tickets/passport. Interestingly, the British Museum is one of the worst places for pickpockets. It's free to get into the museum, and since it's one of the few in which you're allowed to take pictures indoors, people are distracted while using their cameras.

The British seem to like Americans, but if there's one thing that makes the locals (and me) cringe, it's the rude habit of comparing things to "what we have in the States," and insisting that what is available in the States is better. A little eye-opening secret: few people in other countries would trade places with Americans because they don't consider the US to be as wonderful as we think they think it is. American arrogance is not appreciated and brands you as ugly. Don't be ugly - you're a guest in their country; you get to adapt to their way of life, not the other way around.

I always bring a book or two with me when traveling. This time, I brought one of my favorite comfort reads: The Adventures of Sally by P.G. Wodehouse. He often portrayed his female characters in an amusingly unflattering light. They're either dumb, devious, demanding or overbearing. Sally Nicholas, however, is a sympathetic and plucky girl, and it's the men she encounters who are arrogant, unlucky, or bumbling. It's a quick and fun read, and I identify with Sally in many ways - especially her travels. I think she and I would be pals.

More later on arriving, the lovely B&B, and a neighborhood stroll.

Bye-eee

03 October 2009

Right. Carry-on bag and backpack are packed, i-pod is loaded and charged, condo is clean, and I'm off to London this evening. I will not be tweeting or blogging while I'm there. I keep travel journals when I go on a jaunt, though, so I will tell you all about it when I get back.

I've been thinking about how people turn up their noses at "touristy" stuff. I agree that there is always more to see in a place than just its monuments and famous spots. However, it's good to see said monuments and famous spots with your own eyes at least once, rather that relying on others' accounts of them. Often when you see things for yourself, you notice something about them that no one bothered to tell you. I'd heard all about Van Gogh's paintings and had seen countless reproductions of them in books. When I saw them for myself at the National Gallery in DC several years ago, I was struck by how thick the paint layers were and how mural-like the Crows in the Wheat Field painting was.

So, seeing as my hotel is a few minutes' walk from Buck House, I will make a point to stop and scrutinize it for a few minutes at least. I will make good use of the Tube and bus systems to visit the British Library, the British Museum, the National Portrait Gallery, Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, Hampstead Heath, St James Park, and St Paul's Cathedral. I also have a couple of out-of-town trips planned - one to Windsor and one to Oxford ($11 gets you train tickets to and from Oxford!). I also want to see Oscar Wilde's House in Tite Street in Chelsea, pay my respects at Jacqueline du Pre's grave (which is listed as being in a Jewish cemetery somewhere in "greater London," so should be interesting to try and find), have tea somewhere, browse in a Waterstone's bookstore and the I Knit yarn shop, and possibly take a ride on the London Eye. And that's just for starters.

Be good while I'm gone. (And thank you to Emily for looking after the cats.)

C.O.C.

15 September 2009

***This post is mainly seeking cello practice advice - Gottagopractice suggested I post a blog entry about my experiences with daily practice so far - so unless you're interested in that, you may want to skip it.***

Right. For those still reading, I've been at this cello endeavor for about three months now. I still like my cello. I still like my teacher. I've upgraded my bow. I've got the hang of bowing and fingering, which isn't to say that I'm stellar at either of them, just that it no longer feels awkward to do either of them. Reminds me of learning to knit, actually, but I'll stick to the point (ha!) and not go there.

I have no illusions that I sound anywhere close to good right now. The long-term goal, of course, is to get better and play music that makes me and my ears and my fingers happy from accomplishment. And when I say long-term, I mean over the course of the rest of my life, until my life gives me a mighty good reason why I should stop playing.

The best way to get better at this, so far as I can tell, is practice. I've had several discussions with my cello teacher about practicing. It's not enough just to finger the notes and bow on the strings repeatedly, he says. An effective practice means you do both properly so you develop the muscle and ear memory to know when you're playing it "right" - when it sounds "right" in your ears and feels "right" under your fingers.

In the first few weeks, I tried practicing for an hour every day, and my cello teacher shook his head at me when he read through my practice journal. As a beginner, that's too much strain on your hands, he said. I need to build up the hand muscle strength first, or it will all be for naught if I develop carpal tunnel or cause a muscle or tendon injury.

So I cut down the daily practice to a half-hour in the morning, and a half-hour in the evening. While this is easier on my hands, I can't say as I notice much improvement in my playing (not that hour-long practices improved it either). My teacher usually gives me at least two short pieces to practice each week. Right now, these pieces are fundamentals - string crossings, scales, and ar-peg-g-ios, mainly (whenever I hear or see "arpeggio" I think of the song from The Aristocats - at 3:00).

When I'm learning one of these new pieces, or if I find a particular section in a piece to be difficult, I try to break it down into measures, and focus on playing each measure better. I will also practice the fingering separate from the bowing at first, so my fingers get more familiar with the note pattern, which helps my attention to not be spread as thinly when I combine the fingering with the bowing. This makes practice slow-going, and often, I don't really feel as though I've gotten very far or have enough progress to present at the next lesson.

I have a lesson once a week. Between lessons, I don't have enough time to practice the pieces until I can play them perfectly - one can only accomplish so much in daily half-hour blocks of time. My teacher has mentioned beginning "cello ensemble" to me several times now, but I know I'm not ready for that. Only one of my cats can stand to hear me play at the moment, and it's just as well that I'm single because my current playing ability would likely be grounds for break-up.

Perhaps I am making it all too difficult. Perhaps I'm expecting too much of myself. After all, I'm not taking lessons for any kind of class credit. Honestly, I'm doing it for therapy more than anything, after years of serious bouts with panic disorder. "Work less, play more" is what my doctor advised. I may not ever play in a famous concert hall, but that doesn't mean I can't learn to play well, does it?

Perhaps I'm a super-slow learner/accomplisher. However, I would think that after each practice session, I should be at least a hair better, yes?

So how do you cello players out there in interwebtube-land approach your practice sessions? How often do you practice? What do you practice? How do you practice? How do you know if your practice session was successful?

Bring it on. I'm truly interested and would love advice because I want to get better, and I do not want to waste practice time nor have it turn into yet another chore on the to-do list. "This is supposed to be fun!" as my cello teacher says.