Several months ago, I had the idea of producing and presenting a radio show based on historical tales of different late 20th century music movements. The idea began from reading England's Dreaming, by Jon Savage, which chronicles the rise and fall of the Sex Pistols alongside vignettes from other seminal figures in the British punk scene of the late 1970s. I decided that it would be awesome to get the music for a show based on the book -- some Sex Pistols, some Clash, some Siouxsie, some New York Dolls, etc. -- and then find some good anecdotes and historical facts and put it all together into a 2 hour special.
From there my idea grew to include episodes with other times and places, again based on books about music I either have read (the first two) or want to read (the latter two):
1. Rip it up and start again: Postpunk 1978-1984 by Simon Reynolds: Talking Heads, Joy Division, Public Image Limited... though I feel that with me at the helm, this show would be about 70% Talking Heads
2. Britpop: Cool Britannia and the Spectacular Demise of English Rock by John Harris: One of the first books I ever read about rock and roll, we'd hear Pulp, Suede, Elastica, and of course Blur and Oasis
3. Our Band Could be your life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground 1981-1991 by Michael Azerrad: Haven't read it yet but I've heard it's one of the best books about music ever, so I really need to get on this if I'm to make this radio show happen!
4. Same goes for Can't Stop, Won't Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation by Jeff Chang
I like each of these books because they don't just talk about the music -- they're not biographies. They're also about the wider social and political happenings, and how the music and musicians related to that. England's Dreaming is not just about the Pistols -- who made some really crap music -- but about how some clever (and not so clever) people managed to tap into a sense of public anger and outrage and react against it in a very fraught time in English history.
And then at the end of each episode of my little radio show idea, I would have 15-20 minutes of more recent (say, last decade) music that was inspired by the movement.
This is all a roundabout way to start talking about The Clash, in my opinion one of the top five greatest bands of all time, and, in terms of personal preference, tied for first.
I first discovered The Clash via No Doubt -- one of the latter's many bootleg live mp3s that I downloaded in the early days of file sharing on the internet (back when ftp sites were cool, even before audiogalaxy!) was a cover of "Hateful"*, which is originally from 1979's London Calling, an album that a few years later I would literally wear out from listening to so much (the cd actually warped from the heat in my truck's cd player).
The summer of 2004 was when I finally, truly, fell in love with The Clash. I can't remember what spurred it but I spent the majority of that summer sitting at a desk job, trading emails with N, headphones on and "I'm So Bored with the USA" drowning out the sounds of the printer behind me.
I was 20 years old, and super bored with the USA -- leaving in August for four months in the UK, a serious Anglophile's first trip to the Sceptred Isle. There was definitely that aspect of it -- getting ready for the journey -- but the Clash's lyrics totally captured me. A few decades too late for me, they had channeled their anger into brilliant songs about politics, culture, art, society... I won't go on about it too much, but just take a look at either "White Man in Hammersmith Palais" (written in the aftermath of the Brixton riots) or "Lost in the Supermarket" for two of my favorite examples.
To be fair, the Clash can be difficult to get into nowadays. There's the songs that get played on oldies stations -- "Train in Vain", why? -- and then there's this nebulous body of work beyond London Calling that's full of strange, experimental styles ranging from dub to Beach Boys parodies about the Cold War. You won't be able to understand the lyrics -- you'll definitely have to read them. And they a two-part album, Sandinista, that is often described as a "brilliant but failed experiment" that I think has some of their most important music.
It's also important to me to note that I once tried to claim ownership over a page torn out of an NME with a picture of Joe Strummer lying on a bed with his trousers unbuttoned by saying that I owned Sandinista and had listened to the second half.
So back to the radio show: I'd still really love to do something like that, but I'd like to make an episode specifically devoted to the Clash, and in fact I think I could fill up maybe two or three episodes with them. Unfortunately I don't think that Oxide Radio is exactly the format for it -- the station would probably explode, and my five listeners would just want to be in the chat room talking about Yo Dawg graphics rather than listening to me blather on about musical social history. I'm definitely still thinking about it, though.
*There were a number of covers No Doubt had that led me on to other bands/songs -- from Sublime to the Beatles' Ob La Di, Ob La Da -- and to all you haters out there, I'm never going to regret how much of my teenage years was spent in my room with Tragic Kingdom on the stereo.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
A trip to the Pitt Rivers Museum
Oxford is full of remarkable places, but they can be hard to find -- often hidden behind stone walls or down garden paths, and rarely put on full display for the brief visitor. It's one of the things I like about Oxford -- even though it's often crawling with tourists, there are still so many secret locations that can only be found with hard work.
The Pitt Rivers Museum is famous, but it's just a bit hard to find, and once inside, there is such a multitude of things to see that one could visit a hundred times and still be discovering unseen, hidden objects. To get there, one must wander up Parks Road to the Victorian cathedral of science, the University Museum of Natural History...
go through the imposing wooden doors, and...
Actually, one second, let's check something out on the outside of the Museum.
See how one of the windows has a lot of carvings around it and the other one doesn't? When the Museum was being built, there was a lengthy dispute about payment with the stone masons, who were two brothers, and eventually they picked up their things and left. The people financing the Museum (Oxford dons, natch) decided not to pay for any more carvings and as a result, there are several places around the Museum -- both inside and out -- that are bare like this. Another good example, should you find yourself there, is in the local stone columns near the gift shop -- check out the bases.
Incidentally those windows face onto a gorgeous room at the front of the Museum, which is the entomology lab, a stunning room with dark wood panelling and a gorgeous curving staircase leading up to a library on a balcony. This series of rooms is not open the public and I only saw it because I was volunteering after hours at an event.
Now we've gone through the doors. We're inside of the Natural History Museum and there are lots of amazing things all around. But don't be distracted by the beautiful dinosaurs! Walk straight through the Museum.
We'll walk between two statues -- one of this famous gentleman, Sir Isaac Newton:
And one of another famous but slightly more controversial gentleman, Charles Darwin:
It never quite seems fair to me that Newton gets depicted as young and quite handsome, while Darwin is in his classic old man with beard pose. Still, I like that these two are the gatekeepers.
Once we pass between them, we'll look off to our left and see a door with a sign over it that says Pitt-Rivers Collection.
Once through the door, we'll find yourself looking into a dimly lit, cavernous space. This is the darkest museum you'll ever enter...
The thing about the Pitt-Rivers -- the thing that makes it so unique -- is that the objects are arranged by type, rather than by culture or chronology. Therefore the patterns they demonstrate are ones of form and function, rather than telling any coherent story about a single group of people. It's an interesting approach to material culture, to say the least, and one based on the principles of the Museum's founder, General Pitt-Rivers, who wanted to show the progression from barbarianism to civilization that he (as a Victorian gentleman -- he donated the money and his collection of 20,000 objects in 1884) believed to exemplify the evolution of societies.
Today the collection has something like 500,000 objects, and no longer adheres to Victorian ideas about anthropology as a study of the "progression of man" -- but it does still arrange its objects in this way. As a museum-goer, both viewing and interacting with the objects (I volunteer here for education and public outreach projects as well), I find that the arrangement gives me insight into the common patterns between societies. I am especially interested in the ones that cross modern political boundaries to embrace a way of life in a certain geographical zone (i.e., similarities between people who live in deserts and people who live in polar regions).
Ok enough anthropological blather, let's check out some of the objects!
Just to the left of the stairs down into the museum, there's a vitrine full of depictions of animal forms. I find these birds from New Zealand to be particularly beautiful:
Apologies for slightly blurry pictures, by the way. These were taken with as much light as possible and they still turned out a bit blurry! This museum is seriously dark. Here are some carvings of animals in elephant horn, from central Africa:
And a 19th century Norwegian beer drinking bowl with horse heads on either side.
Finally, my favourite objects, some kachina dolls from the Southwestern US -- but unlike the kachinas that my grandmother collected and my mother now collects, they have actual fur on them! I have seen many kachina dolls but had never seen ones with fur before seeing these.
From there, let's wander to the back corner of the museum. Here's a section full of different methods of building houses. I particularly enjoy the furry tipis:
They just look deliciously warm. And here's a Bosnian peasant house, complete with turf storage house beneath:
Finally, some models of igloos:
Standing in this corner, we're close to the totem pole that dominates the back wall of the Museum. Although many of the objects in the Museum were gifts from British explorers, missionaries, traders, and soldiers abroad, this one was a gift from its artists, from the Pacific Northwest of course.
And looking away from the totem pole, we can see the layout of the Museum's ground floor, and just how claustrophobic and warren-like it really is. This Museum is absolutely packed with vitrines, which are in turn packed with objects.
The low vitrine full of ivory-carved objects is a favourite of mine. From China:
And a selection from many different places:
There's a perfectly carved Inuit man riding a sled with ten dogs that I attempted to photograph several times, but unfortunately with no luck -- as well as an intricate Chinese carving of a series of delicate ivory balls within one another. Sometimes I like to just admire the objects themselves as art and not think too hard about them :).
Next is a section devoted to different types of ships. The one that looks like it has legomen in it is a model of a Japanese war ship.
The boat in the top here is also Japanese.
And then a display of trumpets from around the world, including some made out of shells and some made out of horns:
Oh, I seem to have lied, because we've found our way back to see the dog sledder! Here he is, in his perfectly carved glory:
I'm not too sure what the thing on the left is. A fish?
And here's a spectacular necklace that, not to be culturally insensitive, really reminds me of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
Do not hug the guy wearing this.
General Pitt Rivers was an archaeologist as well as an anthropologist (as all good archaeologists are), and is thought of as the first person to bring the scientific method in archaeology to Britain. One of his rules was to document every artefact found, not just the shiny ones -- changing archaeology into the study of humankind, rather than just an exercise in treasure hunting. The Museum exemplifies that when it displays less fantastic objects like these everyday methods of making fire -- so crucial to life, but not terribly interesting to look at:
In the middle of this floor is are a few gruesome vitrines. There's the infamous shrunken heads, probably the most viewed items in here, which are actually really disgusting, and which appear in the worst scene in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (the movie). Then there's a vitrine dealing with the treatement of the dead. It includes in one corner this bizarrely painted monkey skull set into a stone. I couldn't find any explanation about where it had come from or who had made it. Any thoughts?
There's also this skull, painted red and sewn with a design. I like how it's kept under a bell jar -- almost as if it's about to be served up on a platter.
One of my favourite sections is that depicting different methods of recording information. Here's what we'll see when we peek into the part about early forms:
Heiroglyphs and cuneiform tables and figures carved into bone and stone! That cuneiform tablet in the centre is a record of someone's bill. There's a lot to be said for the idea that the Mesopotamians essentially invented writing to keep track of accounts in their city-states.
This vitrine displays the many tools that people use to write:
And here's our last stop on the bottom floor, Depictions of Humans. I love this little guy, he's from India, and sometimes I like to hold out my arms like him and do a little dance. He's right next to a mask from central Africa in the 1800s that has four carved wooden men atop it, two of whom are white and in pith helmets -- I tried to take a picture to show you that, but sadly it came out very blurry.
Turning to the left away from this display, we'll head upstairs, to the second level. Here's the view from the top:
Immediately greeting us in this section is a brand new display, of objects made from recycled material. Some of these are pretty cool -- I especially like the bee-striped teapot, which is made from recycled toilet seats in South Africa.
Immediately behind this is a display about Aboriginal art. I am a total sucker for awesome depictions of animals in art, as you almost certainly know if you read this blog (because that probably means you know me in person and know how much I love animals), and the Aborigines do a great job with keeping it creative. The tiny figures that are on? in? some preposition the tail of this crocodile are simultaneously creepy -- don't they look parasitic? aren't their grins a bit too manic? -- and cute. And Crocodile's big eye and big-toothed grin are positively adorable.
From the Pacific Northwest, some very neat bowls.
And a glimpse down an aisle, where the vitrines are particularly beautiful.
Now let's go up to the third floor. Much of this floor is taken up by firearms -- including General Pitt Rivers' personal collection, which is large and impressive -- and there are some real gems, like a blunderbuss and some very early muskets. Old guns are always incredibly ornate and look like they couldn't harm a thing. Pro tip: if we're ever time travelling before, oh, 1830ish, and we get into a situation where we have to fight a duel, choose the pistols rather than the sword.
There's also a section devoted entirely to keys, which are quite cool to look at, and another devoted to currency. Sadly these sections are quite dark or I would show you them with pictures! One thing that becomes obvious on a lengthy visit to this museum is that any group of objects, no matter how functional, starts to look like art or ornament after you've seen enough of them.
Finally we'll check out this vitrine full of methods for dealing with snow. I like this one, because I own some snowshoes myself.
I especially like these -- from Scandinavia, they're snowshoes for horses! They actually seem like they'd be completely useless because they're so small...
And a collection of goggles for dealing with snow. I've got some of these too!
Well, that's been a quick tour of the Pitt Rivers. Leaning against the back wall of the third floor, we can see this collection of small boats silhouetted beneath the soaring ceiling:
Our trip today has only touched on a few of the amazing things to be found here -- but don't worry, because no matter how many times I visit, I'm confident that I'll only scratch the surface of all that's here.
If you'd like to see a bit more of the Museum from the comfort of your computer, check out the Virtual Collections on their webpage.
The Pitt Rivers Museum is famous, but it's just a bit hard to find, and once inside, there is such a multitude of things to see that one could visit a hundred times and still be discovering unseen, hidden objects. To get there, one must wander up Parks Road to the Victorian cathedral of science, the University Museum of Natural History...
go through the imposing wooden doors, and...
Actually, one second, let's check something out on the outside of the Museum.
See how one of the windows has a lot of carvings around it and the other one doesn't? When the Museum was being built, there was a lengthy dispute about payment with the stone masons, who were two brothers, and eventually they picked up their things and left. The people financing the Museum (Oxford dons, natch) decided not to pay for any more carvings and as a result, there are several places around the Museum -- both inside and out -- that are bare like this. Another good example, should you find yourself there, is in the local stone columns near the gift shop -- check out the bases.
Incidentally those windows face onto a gorgeous room at the front of the Museum, which is the entomology lab, a stunning room with dark wood panelling and a gorgeous curving staircase leading up to a library on a balcony. This series of rooms is not open the public and I only saw it because I was volunteering after hours at an event.
Now we've gone through the doors. We're inside of the Natural History Museum and there are lots of amazing things all around. But don't be distracted by the beautiful dinosaurs! Walk straight through the Museum.
We'll walk between two statues -- one of this famous gentleman, Sir Isaac Newton:
And one of another famous but slightly more controversial gentleman, Charles Darwin:
It never quite seems fair to me that Newton gets depicted as young and quite handsome, while Darwin is in his classic old man with beard pose. Still, I like that these two are the gatekeepers.
Once we pass between them, we'll look off to our left and see a door with a sign over it that says Pitt-Rivers Collection.
Once through the door, we'll find yourself looking into a dimly lit, cavernous space. This is the darkest museum you'll ever enter...
The thing about the Pitt-Rivers -- the thing that makes it so unique -- is that the objects are arranged by type, rather than by culture or chronology. Therefore the patterns they demonstrate are ones of form and function, rather than telling any coherent story about a single group of people. It's an interesting approach to material culture, to say the least, and one based on the principles of the Museum's founder, General Pitt-Rivers, who wanted to show the progression from barbarianism to civilization that he (as a Victorian gentleman -- he donated the money and his collection of 20,000 objects in 1884) believed to exemplify the evolution of societies.
Today the collection has something like 500,000 objects, and no longer adheres to Victorian ideas about anthropology as a study of the "progression of man" -- but it does still arrange its objects in this way. As a museum-goer, both viewing and interacting with the objects (I volunteer here for education and public outreach projects as well), I find that the arrangement gives me insight into the common patterns between societies. I am especially interested in the ones that cross modern political boundaries to embrace a way of life in a certain geographical zone (i.e., similarities between people who live in deserts and people who live in polar regions).
Ok enough anthropological blather, let's check out some of the objects!
Just to the left of the stairs down into the museum, there's a vitrine full of depictions of animal forms. I find these birds from New Zealand to be particularly beautiful:
Apologies for slightly blurry pictures, by the way. These were taken with as much light as possible and they still turned out a bit blurry! This museum is seriously dark. Here are some carvings of animals in elephant horn, from central Africa:
And a 19th century Norwegian beer drinking bowl with horse heads on either side.
Finally, my favourite objects, some kachina dolls from the Southwestern US -- but unlike the kachinas that my grandmother collected and my mother now collects, they have actual fur on them! I have seen many kachina dolls but had never seen ones with fur before seeing these. 
From there, let's wander to the back corner of the museum. Here's a section full of different methods of building houses. I particularly enjoy the furry tipis:
They just look deliciously warm. And here's a Bosnian peasant house, complete with turf storage house beneath:
Finally, some models of igloos: 
Standing in this corner, we're close to the totem pole that dominates the back wall of the Museum. Although many of the objects in the Museum were gifts from British explorers, missionaries, traders, and soldiers abroad, this one was a gift from its artists, from the Pacific Northwest of course. 
And looking away from the totem pole, we can see the layout of the Museum's ground floor, and just how claustrophobic and warren-like it really is. This Museum is absolutely packed with vitrines, which are in turn packed with objects.
The low vitrine full of ivory-carved objects is a favourite of mine. From China:
And a selection from many different places:
There's a perfectly carved Inuit man riding a sled with ten dogs that I attempted to photograph several times, but unfortunately with no luck -- as well as an intricate Chinese carving of a series of delicate ivory balls within one another. Sometimes I like to just admire the objects themselves as art and not think too hard about them :).
Next is a section devoted to different types of ships. The one that looks like it has legomen in it is a model of a Japanese war ship.
The boat in the top here is also Japanese.
And then a display of trumpets from around the world, including some made out of shells and some made out of horns:
Oh, I seem to have lied, because we've found our way back to see the dog sledder! Here he is, in his perfectly carved glory:
I'm not too sure what the thing on the left is. A fish?
And here's a spectacular necklace that, not to be culturally insensitive, really reminds me of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
Do not hug the guy wearing this.General Pitt Rivers was an archaeologist as well as an anthropologist (as all good archaeologists are), and is thought of as the first person to bring the scientific method in archaeology to Britain. One of his rules was to document every artefact found, not just the shiny ones -- changing archaeology into the study of humankind, rather than just an exercise in treasure hunting. The Museum exemplifies that when it displays less fantastic objects like these everyday methods of making fire -- so crucial to life, but not terribly interesting to look at:
In the middle of this floor is are a few gruesome vitrines. There's the infamous shrunken heads, probably the most viewed items in here, which are actually really disgusting, and which appear in the worst scene in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (the movie). Then there's a vitrine dealing with the treatement of the dead. It includes in one corner this bizarrely painted monkey skull set into a stone. I couldn't find any explanation about where it had come from or who had made it. Any thoughts?
There's also this skull, painted red and sewn with a design. I like how it's kept under a bell jar -- almost as if it's about to be served up on a platter.
One of my favourite sections is that depicting different methods of recording information. Here's what we'll see when we peek into the part about early forms:
Heiroglyphs and cuneiform tables and figures carved into bone and stone! That cuneiform tablet in the centre is a record of someone's bill. There's a lot to be said for the idea that the Mesopotamians essentially invented writing to keep track of accounts in their city-states.
This vitrine displays the many tools that people use to write:
And here's our last stop on the bottom floor, Depictions of Humans. I love this little guy, he's from India, and sometimes I like to hold out my arms like him and do a little dance. He's right next to a mask from central Africa in the 1800s that has four carved wooden men atop it, two of whom are white and in pith helmets -- I tried to take a picture to show you that, but sadly it came out very blurry.
Turning to the left away from this display, we'll head upstairs, to the second level. Here's the view from the top:
Immediately greeting us in this section is a brand new display, of objects made from recycled material. Some of these are pretty cool -- I especially like the bee-striped teapot, which is made from recycled toilet seats in South Africa. 
Immediately behind this is a display about Aboriginal art. I am a total sucker for awesome depictions of animals in art, as you almost certainly know if you read this blog (because that probably means you know me in person and know how much I love animals), and the Aborigines do a great job with keeping it creative. The tiny figures that are on? in? some preposition the tail of this crocodile are simultaneously creepy -- don't they look parasitic? aren't their grins a bit too manic? -- and cute. And Crocodile's big eye and big-toothed grin are positively adorable. 
From the Pacific Northwest, some very neat bowls. 
And a glimpse down an aisle, where the vitrines are particularly beautiful.
Now let's go up to the third floor. Much of this floor is taken up by firearms -- including General Pitt Rivers' personal collection, which is large and impressive -- and there are some real gems, like a blunderbuss and some very early muskets. Old guns are always incredibly ornate and look like they couldn't harm a thing. Pro tip: if we're ever time travelling before, oh, 1830ish, and we get into a situation where we have to fight a duel, choose the pistols rather than the sword.
There's also a section devoted entirely to keys, which are quite cool to look at, and another devoted to currency. Sadly these sections are quite dark or I would show you them with pictures! One thing that becomes obvious on a lengthy visit to this museum is that any group of objects, no matter how functional, starts to look like art or ornament after you've seen enough of them.
Finally we'll check out this vitrine full of methods for dealing with snow. I like this one, because I own some snowshoes myself.
I especially like these -- from Scandinavia, they're snowshoes for horses! They actually seem like they'd be completely useless because they're so small...
And a collection of goggles for dealing with snow. I've got some of these too!
Well, that's been a quick tour of the Pitt Rivers. Leaning against the back wall of the third floor, we can see this collection of small boats silhouetted beneath the soaring ceiling:
Our trip today has only touched on a few of the amazing things to be found here -- but don't worry, because no matter how many times I visit, I'm confident that I'll only scratch the surface of all that's here.
If you'd like to see a bit more of the Museum from the comfort of your computer, check out the Virtual Collections on their webpage.
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
It's always better on holiday part I: Italia!
Watch out, this one is going to be long!
Every summer for the past few years, I have spent a good chunk of my time doing some archaeology somewhere and that has counted as my holiday in the summer. Three years in a row (2007, 2008, and 2009) I did those things in some cold, wet, and windy North Atlantic locales: Ireland, Scotland, and Iceland. To compound the cold, I did archaeology in the furthest north points of two out of three of those (Northern Ireland and the West Fjords) -- and in Scotland, I was off the northern tip of the mainland if not in the actual northernmost point (in Orkney rather than Shetland). This summer, since I am working on finishing my PhD, I decided not to do fieldwork (this would have meant a return to either Iceland or Orkney) and instead to stay in Oxford for most of the time and focus on work.
I was really sad that I wasn't going to do fieldwork this year, but I got to do something better instead -- spend two weeks with N, not to mention various friends, travelling to European countries beginning with the letter "I" that have volcanoes.* These two countries also had the dubious distinction of being part of the infamous "PIIIGS" nations who have been bringing down the European economy. First stop: Italia!, where N had invited me to be his date at a wedding at a villa in Umbria.
In the week leading up to the trip, I absolutely lost all ability to focus. I was so incredibly excited that I was going to get to spend so much time with N, as well as travel to these places with him, that in a fit of nervous energy I wound up making a huge spreadsheet of all published geochemical data and then plotting all of my geochemical data on it and solving a huge mystery about my research. That was on Friday. He arrived on Saturday afternoon, looking fantastic despite having been travelling for many hours (it took him four flights to get from Denver to London!). We spent a very enjoyable evening at a bbq at A and R's, and then early the next morning trekked across Oxford to the train station to begin the lengthy journey to London Stansted.
Several hours later, we managed to get onto a Ryanair flight to Rome Ciampino. It was N's first Ryanair flight and he was impressed by how crafty and flinty the discount airline really is. Our flight in was uneventful for the most part, with gorgeous views as we flew over the Alps and then northern Italy. The best view came as we were landing: we circled over a blue lake in a big volcanic crater. Our landing was quite rough but the entire plane erupted in cheers as the Ryanair "Charge" music played to announce "Another on time landing!". I wonder who makes the decision to put that one on, and just how close they can cut it... if they are about to be late, does someone tell the pilot and he speeds up?
We took a bus into Rome, where sadly we wound up sitting a few rows apart and I got to sit next to a couple who were groping each other and making out complete with actual "smacking" noises for the duration of the the ride. We pulled up outside of the Roma Termini (train station) and then sat for a half hour as the bus attempted to turn around the side of the Termini and park. With about an hour to go before our train to Perugia, we had our first taste of Italian cooking at a pizza place across from the station. It was great. The best part of the meal experience was that N had brought along a Rick Steves' phrasebook and we were able -- albeit quite shyly -- to start saying some Italian. Following that we took a train journey to Perugia. It was quite long and started off with an Italian woman talking to N in Italian while he nodded and smiled; it ended with us listening to some awesome music on his headphone splitter, and then being stranded in Perugia for quite a while waiting to be picked up. Eventually J and C arrived in their Fiat Punto and we took an exciting drive through Perugia, got lost, got found again, and arrived at the gorgeous villa in the Umbrian countryside where we would be staying.
Our first full day there, we went to a market and then to a walled town by a large lake called Castiglione del Lago. The market was unremarkable, and highly reminiscent of the markets in Oxford, but N found a hat -- a trilby -- that made him look incredibly dashing and managed to get it for only 10 euro. The walled town was on a promontory that jutted out into the lake, and was punctuated by a castle on that tip. I read in the guidebook that the entire region was built up by warring city states in the medieval period, and that the wars between them were so devastating that they became easy targets for the Papal States to take over later on. It was easy to see how important fortifications were when the town was built as we walked through the two narrow streets and up to the castle walls to overlook the lake. We climbed to the top of a few towers and then wound up having to escape down a long wall and out into a palace that had become a museum. We very casually exited said museum and then made our escape from the town.
That night there was the wedding rehearsal and then a delicious rehearsal dinner. Although I had not met many of the people involved in the wedding beforehand, N looked after me beautifully and everyone was incredibly welcoming. We wound up sitting around a fire talking until very late.
The next day was the wedding day. I hung out with the groom's group and we spent the morning/early afternoon lying in the sun next to the fabled infinity pool. A few attempts were made to get into the water but it was absolutely freezing and the day wasn't hot enough to stay in. Instead, we amused ourselves by N reading various quizzes in a Cosmo aloud, talking about Leonard Nimoy/horse fanfic, and alienating other tourists staying at the villa. The groom and his brother spent a lot of time coming up with a fantastic playlist for the wedding. Then it poured rain until about an hour before the wedding itself, cleaning out the air perfectly. Steam and mist rose off the hillsides as the sun came back out and the scenery was incredibly beautiful as the wedding started on the lawn in front of the villa. N was taking photos for the wedding so I did my best to keep busy, doing little tasks for everyone and helping look after the music system. I was super proud of N for taking the photos and I knew they were going to turn out well. The wedding was one of the best I've ever been to, I think because it was so small and not in one of those typical wedding places; part of it being small meant that it felt like everyone who was there really loved the two people getting married and made it seem that much more special. After the ceremony, we had a delicious meal, a lot of wine, some grappa (*shudder*), some whisky, and some more wine, while dancing until something like 3am. We danced ourselves off the playlist and onto someone's Iphone playlist. I was also complimented on my dancing -- and on how N and I dance together -- a few times, which made my day, as I tend to think of myself as being of the Thom Yorke school of awkward dancers.
The next morning we got up late, staggered around, took some of the Motrin thoughtfully provided by the bride and groom in the welcome package, and then took a trip to the gorgeous city of Assisi. It's a difficult place to describe; it's full of hidden corners, side passages, steep staircases and little unexpected carvings, painted windows, and gorgeous doors. It also is full of churches where I had to wrap something around my legs because apparently my shorts were immodest. The first time that a security person told me to do this and handed me a scarf I felt incredibly weird about it, and uncomfortable -- I had worn a shirt with sleeves and close-toed shoes specifically not to be disrespectful, and then felt so... interpolated, in the gender studies sense for lack of a better word, when someone could judge me like that and deny me entry to someplace. I guess I should never visit the Middle East, right? I almost didn't go into the cathedral as a result, but decided to to avoid awkward questions. I'm glad that I went in, though still felt very uncomfortable about the whole situation.
Anyway, the cathedral! St Francis of Assisi's shrine was in the basement, and very intense: people had pushed pictures through the bars around it of people who they were praying for, and it was dark, and subterranean. Assisi was my first introduction to Italian churches and I found it to be incredibly strange, having previously only visited churches in the northern parts of Europe (the UK, France, and the Netherlands). The church is built on two levels and seems to have altars everywhere -- the notion of small ante-chapels off of a simple cross/nave shape that is prevalent in Gothic cathedrals was not present. Instead the structure of the church felt incredibly chaotic. We got a chance to see some Giotto paintings in one area that were being restored and to take "one generic photo" of them, which was illuminating. This was another big difference between other cathedrals I had been in, and contributed to the sense of chaos -- the walls were entirely covered in paintings! I loved looking at them -- they really highlighted the sense that "the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there" especially as it relates to the medieval period. Although it is one of the times I have read the most about, I simply cannot fathom what they could have been thinking when they were illustrating some of those scenes of hell. Did these people really concretely believe in a literal notion of hell, complete with satyrs? Or was it like the idea of post-apocalypse is today, something in popular culture that people liked to speculate upon but only half-believed in their darkest moments? It really made me think about the medieval mind, and brought me back to my favorite history book, "A World Lit Only by Fire", a book that I disagree with in many ways... anyway, the cathedral was quite an experience, end of story.
After that we had the joys of herding about 20 cats worth of people around the streets of Assisi in search of food, as everything seemed to be closed for the infamous siesta. I tried out my terrible Italian with a few people to ask the location of a restaurant that had been recommended to us, only to discover that the restaurant was only open three hours a day. It was somewhat surreal travelling around Europe in a pack of mostly-Coloradan Americans -- my people! -- when I'd been living in Europe as the only Coloradan, or Western American for that matter, that I knew for several years. Everyone seemed so shocked that the restaurant was only open those hours whereas I have come to expect things like that and was not surprised at all. At the point where one of our party had negotiated us a deal on a restaurant elsewhere, we received urgent communications that the bride and groom were left in the villa, sans car or food, and needed to be rescued. Five of us set off for the villa to sweep them away to a land with food, but wound up hideously lost in Perugia. I was at the point of turning on google navigation on my phone and incurring 1.25/MB charges (pounds) when we took a random roundabout and wound up on the correct road. Hooray! We can never, ever, ever go back to Perugia. That night we ate in a lovely restaurant in another walled hill town.
The next day was our best day in Italy, at least to me. We left early in the morning and took a train ride to Florence, or, as they call it there (and as I learned after asking a particularly dumb question), Firenze. N was wearing his trilby and an Arctic Monkeys t-shirt, pretty much the most attractive look this indie-loving girl could imagine, so I knew the day was going to be good. As we pulled into Firenze, the clouds had become apocalyptic, and then the skies opened and it POURED, and thundered, and lightninged, for about an hour. We ran off the train and then from sheltered doorway to sheltered doorway. We then ate an incredibly delicious lunch in a restaurant that we just happened to duck into to keep out of the rain. From there we set off to find out how to see the David -- which I ultimately did not see -- and then darted around from the rain a bit more before beating the queue to climb the Duomo.
The Duomo is the most impressive thing I saw in Italy aside from the Colisseum (more on that in a minute). The dome itself is enormous and peeks out from various angles down the city streets. I'm always impressed by monumental architecture that finds its way into crowded spaces and still manages to dominate. Climbing to the top was extremely damp but the views of the city and surrounding hillsides were definitely worth it! I'm glad that I don't have any fear of heights because there wasn't much of a guard rail and the drop looked steep.
After descending the Duomo we headed off across the famous bridge to find a place that had been promised to us as the best gnocchi ever. The bridge was gorgeous and made me wish that London Bridge hadn't burned down -- I'd love to have seen that one. Anyway, the restaurant was all that it had promised to be and more. The gnocchi came in a cheese sauce with truffle oil and damn if it wasn't one of the greatest things I've ever eaten. By the end I was completely stuffed but could not imagine leaving any on the plate so I managed to eat it all. Then I ate some of the steak Florentine that two of the others had gotten and that was incredible too. Oh man. I really loved eating my way through Italy.
We then took a train ride back to Perugia. To alleviate boredom, N and I bought two bottles of wine to share and succeeded in getting ourselves "a little bit tipsy" and playing various card games. It was an incredibly enjoyable way to end the day.
The next day was our last in Italy. We went to Rome early in the morning and had an hour to kill there before heading back to the UK. We used it to make a humid, hot dash to the Colisseum, which turned out to be incredibly impressive in person despite all the millions of pictures I've seen of it. I've never been particularly (ok, at all) into the classical period -- choosing instead to focus on people who lived in turf houses in marginal climates -- but looking at the Colisseum I could certainly see the appeal of studying people who built enormous monuments in sunny spots. After seeing it, we headed back on the Rome subway system, the perfect way to complete the journey.
I had a fabulous time in Italy. The company really made it; not just N but his friends as well who were uniformly awesome and who I had a great time hanging out with. Hopefully they liked me too!
Standing outside the airport, I bid sunny, warm summer weather adieu until 2011 and then we boarded our Ryanair flight back to the Great British Climate.
*Sorry Ireland, but I already visited you in June!
Every summer for the past few years, I have spent a good chunk of my time doing some archaeology somewhere and that has counted as my holiday in the summer. Three years in a row (2007, 2008, and 2009) I did those things in some cold, wet, and windy North Atlantic locales: Ireland, Scotland, and Iceland. To compound the cold, I did archaeology in the furthest north points of two out of three of those (Northern Ireland and the West Fjords) -- and in Scotland, I was off the northern tip of the mainland if not in the actual northernmost point (in Orkney rather than Shetland). This summer, since I am working on finishing my PhD, I decided not to do fieldwork (this would have meant a return to either Iceland or Orkney) and instead to stay in Oxford for most of the time and focus on work.
I was really sad that I wasn't going to do fieldwork this year, but I got to do something better instead -- spend two weeks with N, not to mention various friends, travelling to European countries beginning with the letter "I" that have volcanoes.* These two countries also had the dubious distinction of being part of the infamous "PIIIGS" nations who have been bringing down the European economy. First stop: Italia!, where N had invited me to be his date at a wedding at a villa in Umbria.
In the week leading up to the trip, I absolutely lost all ability to focus. I was so incredibly excited that I was going to get to spend so much time with N, as well as travel to these places with him, that in a fit of nervous energy I wound up making a huge spreadsheet of all published geochemical data and then plotting all of my geochemical data on it and solving a huge mystery about my research. That was on Friday. He arrived on Saturday afternoon, looking fantastic despite having been travelling for many hours (it took him four flights to get from Denver to London!). We spent a very enjoyable evening at a bbq at A and R's, and then early the next morning trekked across Oxford to the train station to begin the lengthy journey to London Stansted.
Several hours later, we managed to get onto a Ryanair flight to Rome Ciampino. It was N's first Ryanair flight and he was impressed by how crafty and flinty the discount airline really is. Our flight in was uneventful for the most part, with gorgeous views as we flew over the Alps and then northern Italy. The best view came as we were landing: we circled over a blue lake in a big volcanic crater. Our landing was quite rough but the entire plane erupted in cheers as the Ryanair "Charge" music played to announce "Another on time landing!". I wonder who makes the decision to put that one on, and just how close they can cut it... if they are about to be late, does someone tell the pilot and he speeds up?
We took a bus into Rome, where sadly we wound up sitting a few rows apart and I got to sit next to a couple who were groping each other and making out complete with actual "smacking" noises for the duration of the the ride. We pulled up outside of the Roma Termini (train station) and then sat for a half hour as the bus attempted to turn around the side of the Termini and park. With about an hour to go before our train to Perugia, we had our first taste of Italian cooking at a pizza place across from the station. It was great. The best part of the meal experience was that N had brought along a Rick Steves' phrasebook and we were able -- albeit quite shyly -- to start saying some Italian. Following that we took a train journey to Perugia. It was quite long and started off with an Italian woman talking to N in Italian while he nodded and smiled; it ended with us listening to some awesome music on his headphone splitter, and then being stranded in Perugia for quite a while waiting to be picked up. Eventually J and C arrived in their Fiat Punto and we took an exciting drive through Perugia, got lost, got found again, and arrived at the gorgeous villa in the Umbrian countryside where we would be staying.
Our first full day there, we went to a market and then to a walled town by a large lake called Castiglione del Lago. The market was unremarkable, and highly reminiscent of the markets in Oxford, but N found a hat -- a trilby -- that made him look incredibly dashing and managed to get it for only 10 euro. The walled town was on a promontory that jutted out into the lake, and was punctuated by a castle on that tip. I read in the guidebook that the entire region was built up by warring city states in the medieval period, and that the wars between them were so devastating that they became easy targets for the Papal States to take over later on. It was easy to see how important fortifications were when the town was built as we walked through the two narrow streets and up to the castle walls to overlook the lake. We climbed to the top of a few towers and then wound up having to escape down a long wall and out into a palace that had become a museum. We very casually exited said museum and then made our escape from the town.
That night there was the wedding rehearsal and then a delicious rehearsal dinner. Although I had not met many of the people involved in the wedding beforehand, N looked after me beautifully and everyone was incredibly welcoming. We wound up sitting around a fire talking until very late.
The next day was the wedding day. I hung out with the groom's group and we spent the morning/early afternoon lying in the sun next to the fabled infinity pool. A few attempts were made to get into the water but it was absolutely freezing and the day wasn't hot enough to stay in. Instead, we amused ourselves by N reading various quizzes in a Cosmo aloud, talking about Leonard Nimoy/horse fanfic, and alienating other tourists staying at the villa. The groom and his brother spent a lot of time coming up with a fantastic playlist for the wedding. Then it poured rain until about an hour before the wedding itself, cleaning out the air perfectly. Steam and mist rose off the hillsides as the sun came back out and the scenery was incredibly beautiful as the wedding started on the lawn in front of the villa. N was taking photos for the wedding so I did my best to keep busy, doing little tasks for everyone and helping look after the music system. I was super proud of N for taking the photos and I knew they were going to turn out well. The wedding was one of the best I've ever been to, I think because it was so small and not in one of those typical wedding places; part of it being small meant that it felt like everyone who was there really loved the two people getting married and made it seem that much more special. After the ceremony, we had a delicious meal, a lot of wine, some grappa (*shudder*), some whisky, and some more wine, while dancing until something like 3am. We danced ourselves off the playlist and onto someone's Iphone playlist. I was also complimented on my dancing -- and on how N and I dance together -- a few times, which made my day, as I tend to think of myself as being of the Thom Yorke school of awkward dancers.
The next morning we got up late, staggered around, took some of the Motrin thoughtfully provided by the bride and groom in the welcome package, and then took a trip to the gorgeous city of Assisi. It's a difficult place to describe; it's full of hidden corners, side passages, steep staircases and little unexpected carvings, painted windows, and gorgeous doors. It also is full of churches where I had to wrap something around my legs because apparently my shorts were immodest. The first time that a security person told me to do this and handed me a scarf I felt incredibly weird about it, and uncomfortable -- I had worn a shirt with sleeves and close-toed shoes specifically not to be disrespectful, and then felt so... interpolated, in the gender studies sense for lack of a better word, when someone could judge me like that and deny me entry to someplace. I guess I should never visit the Middle East, right? I almost didn't go into the cathedral as a result, but decided to to avoid awkward questions. I'm glad that I went in, though still felt very uncomfortable about the whole situation.
Anyway, the cathedral! St Francis of Assisi's shrine was in the basement, and very intense: people had pushed pictures through the bars around it of people who they were praying for, and it was dark, and subterranean. Assisi was my first introduction to Italian churches and I found it to be incredibly strange, having previously only visited churches in the northern parts of Europe (the UK, France, and the Netherlands). The church is built on two levels and seems to have altars everywhere -- the notion of small ante-chapels off of a simple cross/nave shape that is prevalent in Gothic cathedrals was not present. Instead the structure of the church felt incredibly chaotic. We got a chance to see some Giotto paintings in one area that were being restored and to take "one generic photo" of them, which was illuminating. This was another big difference between other cathedrals I had been in, and contributed to the sense of chaos -- the walls were entirely covered in paintings! I loved looking at them -- they really highlighted the sense that "the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there" especially as it relates to the medieval period. Although it is one of the times I have read the most about, I simply cannot fathom what they could have been thinking when they were illustrating some of those scenes of hell. Did these people really concretely believe in a literal notion of hell, complete with satyrs? Or was it like the idea of post-apocalypse is today, something in popular culture that people liked to speculate upon but only half-believed in their darkest moments? It really made me think about the medieval mind, and brought me back to my favorite history book, "A World Lit Only by Fire", a book that I disagree with in many ways... anyway, the cathedral was quite an experience, end of story.
After that we had the joys of herding about 20 cats worth of people around the streets of Assisi in search of food, as everything seemed to be closed for the infamous siesta. I tried out my terrible Italian with a few people to ask the location of a restaurant that had been recommended to us, only to discover that the restaurant was only open three hours a day. It was somewhat surreal travelling around Europe in a pack of mostly-Coloradan Americans -- my people! -- when I'd been living in Europe as the only Coloradan, or Western American for that matter, that I knew for several years. Everyone seemed so shocked that the restaurant was only open those hours whereas I have come to expect things like that and was not surprised at all. At the point where one of our party had negotiated us a deal on a restaurant elsewhere, we received urgent communications that the bride and groom were left in the villa, sans car or food, and needed to be rescued. Five of us set off for the villa to sweep them away to a land with food, but wound up hideously lost in Perugia. I was at the point of turning on google navigation on my phone and incurring 1.25/MB charges (pounds) when we took a random roundabout and wound up on the correct road. Hooray! We can never, ever, ever go back to Perugia. That night we ate in a lovely restaurant in another walled hill town.
The next day was our best day in Italy, at least to me. We left early in the morning and took a train ride to Florence, or, as they call it there (and as I learned after asking a particularly dumb question), Firenze. N was wearing his trilby and an Arctic Monkeys t-shirt, pretty much the most attractive look this indie-loving girl could imagine, so I knew the day was going to be good. As we pulled into Firenze, the clouds had become apocalyptic, and then the skies opened and it POURED, and thundered, and lightninged, for about an hour. We ran off the train and then from sheltered doorway to sheltered doorway. We then ate an incredibly delicious lunch in a restaurant that we just happened to duck into to keep out of the rain. From there we set off to find out how to see the David -- which I ultimately did not see -- and then darted around from the rain a bit more before beating the queue to climb the Duomo.
The Duomo is the most impressive thing I saw in Italy aside from the Colisseum (more on that in a minute). The dome itself is enormous and peeks out from various angles down the city streets. I'm always impressed by monumental architecture that finds its way into crowded spaces and still manages to dominate. Climbing to the top was extremely damp but the views of the city and surrounding hillsides were definitely worth it! I'm glad that I don't have any fear of heights because there wasn't much of a guard rail and the drop looked steep.
After descending the Duomo we headed off across the famous bridge to find a place that had been promised to us as the best gnocchi ever. The bridge was gorgeous and made me wish that London Bridge hadn't burned down -- I'd love to have seen that one. Anyway, the restaurant was all that it had promised to be and more. The gnocchi came in a cheese sauce with truffle oil and damn if it wasn't one of the greatest things I've ever eaten. By the end I was completely stuffed but could not imagine leaving any on the plate so I managed to eat it all. Then I ate some of the steak Florentine that two of the others had gotten and that was incredible too. Oh man. I really loved eating my way through Italy.
We then took a train ride back to Perugia. To alleviate boredom, N and I bought two bottles of wine to share and succeeded in getting ourselves "a little bit tipsy" and playing various card games. It was an incredibly enjoyable way to end the day.
The next day was our last in Italy. We went to Rome early in the morning and had an hour to kill there before heading back to the UK. We used it to make a humid, hot dash to the Colisseum, which turned out to be incredibly impressive in person despite all the millions of pictures I've seen of it. I've never been particularly (ok, at all) into the classical period -- choosing instead to focus on people who lived in turf houses in marginal climates -- but looking at the Colisseum I could certainly see the appeal of studying people who built enormous monuments in sunny spots. After seeing it, we headed back on the Rome subway system, the perfect way to complete the journey.
I had a fabulous time in Italy. The company really made it; not just N but his friends as well who were uniformly awesome and who I had a great time hanging out with. Hopefully they liked me too!
Standing outside the airport, I bid sunny, warm summer weather adieu until 2011 and then we boarded our Ryanair flight back to the Great British Climate.
*Sorry Ireland, but I already visited you in June!
Wants and needs
I really want to own this book, but the amazon.com (and amazon.co.uk) status is grim:
Even the Kindle edition is $$$!
Incidentally, in the introduction (glimpsed on google books), Grove talks about having spent time in Boulder while writing it.
Even the Kindle edition is $$$!
Incidentally, in the introduction (glimpsed on google books), Grove talks about having spent time in Boulder while writing it.
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Never Mind the Buzzcocks dream lineup
After extensive internal debate, it seems important that I relate to you, my blog readers, the results of my Never Mind the Buzzcocks ultimate dream line up.
If you're not familiar with Never Mind the Buzzcocks, I'm not too sure what to tell you that wikipedia can't. If you like music, and you find British humour funny, then chances are you will enjoy this show.
The Dream Line Up:
Host: Simon Amstel
Panel 1: Jeremy Clarkson, Phil Jupitus (captain), EITHER Rhys Darby (manager from Flight of the Conchords) OR some disposable member of a boy band (see Antony Costa below)
Panel 2: David Tennant, Noel Fielding (captain), Gwen Stefani
I picked Clarkson and Tennant as panel members because, although they were guest hosts, Amstel is just too good at being host to not do it:
Panel 1 was the most difficult choice. Jupitus is captain because he has appeared on every single episode of the show, and he's hilarious too. Clarkson is also on his team because, although it seems doubtful he knows much about music, he and Jupitus had great chemistry when he was host and when Amstel snarks at him, Clarkson will just get upset and wave his hands around like an injured buffalo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n70jj12CeDc&feature=related -- would not let me embed). The third choice was the toughest, because it's always wonderful to have a boy band member to be whipping boy, but Darby has a great accent and is very very funny:
Panel 2 was the easiest, and will certainly be the prettiest, choice. Stefani because, why not, she's never been on and I'd love to see her there. Fielding because he's my favorite captain:
And Tennant because of this, my favorite clip from any Buzzcocks episode ever:
If you're not familiar with Never Mind the Buzzcocks, I'm not too sure what to tell you that wikipedia can't. If you like music, and you find British humour funny, then chances are you will enjoy this show.
The Dream Line Up:
Host: Simon Amstel
Panel 1: Jeremy Clarkson, Phil Jupitus (captain), EITHER Rhys Darby (manager from Flight of the Conchords) OR some disposable member of a boy band (see Antony Costa below)
Panel 2: David Tennant, Noel Fielding (captain), Gwen Stefani
I picked Clarkson and Tennant as panel members because, although they were guest hosts, Amstel is just too good at being host to not do it:
Panel 1 was the most difficult choice. Jupitus is captain because he has appeared on every single episode of the show, and he's hilarious too. Clarkson is also on his team because, although it seems doubtful he knows much about music, he and Jupitus had great chemistry when he was host and when Amstel snarks at him, Clarkson will just get upset and wave his hands around like an injured buffalo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n70jj12CeDc&feature=related -- would not let me embed). The third choice was the toughest, because it's always wonderful to have a boy band member to be whipping boy, but Darby has a great accent and is very very funny:
Panel 2 was the easiest, and will certainly be the prettiest, choice. Stefani because, why not, she's never been on and I'd love to see her there. Fielding because he's my favorite captain:
And Tennant because of this, my favorite clip from any Buzzcocks episode ever:
Saturday, 10 July 2010
A cycle trip to the east.
The villages to the east of Oxford have been unexplored territory for me, with the exception of a single foray down the A40 to Forest Hill, so last weekend, E and I went out for a cycle ride that encompassed several picturesque, thatched-roof cottage, village churchyard type places.
Here's the route, it was about 20 miles:
Our first stop was the church of St Thomas of Canterbury, Elsfield. I'm not entirely clear on what the connection to St Thomas was but they had some fine artwork of him on the inside of the church. Unlike many churches in Oxfordshire (and throughout England) this one seemed to have quite a bit of money, and they had just completed adding a hall onto the church. The church building itself was quite small, and, as you can see, did not have a bell tower:
Inside, there were the usual monuments and a few interesting tombs. This one struck me in particular.
Looking back towards the renovations -- I thought that the gallery walk was a nice touch.
From there we carried on along country roads towards the next villages. Riding a cycle on English country roads can be exciting, because the speed limit is essentially "do whatever you like" but luckily English drivers seem to be very attentive (in general) and are often very nice about how the pass cyclists -- unless they are on motorcycles, at which point all bets are off. This concern is especially good for me, because my back wheel is in bad shape and it is difficult for me to go up hills at any speed.
Don't be deceived by how flat the landscape is; Oxfordshire is composed of rolling hills. Here's a wheat field; this picture is very indicative of the countryside in general. The view is probably quite similar to what it would have been a thousand years ago.
This is my new style for artistic picture taking :).
Fire safety is important, especially in stone buildings!
This is what the top looks like today:
Here's the route, it was about 20 miles:
Our first stop was the church of St Thomas of Canterbury, Elsfield. I'm not entirely clear on what the connection to St Thomas was but they had some fine artwork of him on the inside of the church. Unlike many churches in Oxfordshire (and throughout England) this one seemed to have quite a bit of money, and they had just completed adding a hall onto the church. The church building itself was quite small, and, as you can see, did not have a bell tower:
Inside, there were the usual monuments and a few interesting tombs. This one struck me in particular.
And leaving the church and stepping out into the sunny churchyard...
Don't be deceived by how flat the landscape is; Oxfordshire is composed of rolling hills. Here's a wheat field; this picture is very indicative of the countryside in general. The view is probably quite similar to what it would have been a thousand years ago.
The next stop on our tour took in a larger country church, this one that had some connection with John Buchan, as several plaques around the place attested.
This is my new style for artistic picture taking :).
One of the coolest things inside this church was this stained glass window:
There was also this confusing stairway that seemed to lead nowhere -- once it went around the corner, there were stones across it's original path, but it was nowhere near any galleries or the bell tower. Our only guess was that the pulpit was originally much higher and it led to that.
Fire safety is important, especially in stone buildings!
Following this, it was a long cycle ride through Forest Hill (which involved a hill, natch), then on across the A40 (road to London) and to Wheatley. On the way we passed Waterperry, which sounds like another good trip for an afternoon -- I think I'll check that out some weekend soon. From Wheatley, we ascended Shotover Hill, aiming to take the original route into Oxford from the east.
Shotover Hill apparently means "steep hill" in Old English, per wikipedia. It certainly was a steep hill -- hard to believe that it was the best route into Oxford for many years. It was made into a turnpike -- an official road -- in 1719. It was originally forested, part of the Wychwood Royal Forest from at least the time of Domesday until the 1660s, but was badly deforested by the time of the turnpike. Not too long after becoming a turnpike, highway robbery along it became a serious problem, and it was replaced by what would become the A40 not too long after. I'm not sure why this major road originally went over such a big hill instead of skirting it.
Either way, the hill was definitely steep, and due to my wheel problem, I was walking my bike up much of it. About 3/4 of the way up, I got a phone call from 13,000 ft in Colorado, which was pretty awesome.
Shotover Hill apparently means "steep hill" in Old English, per wikipedia. It certainly was a steep hill -- hard to believe that it was the best route into Oxford for many years. It was made into a turnpike -- an official road -- in 1719. It was originally forested, part of the Wychwood Royal Forest from at least the time of Domesday until the 1660s, but was badly deforested by the time of the turnpike. Not too long after becoming a turnpike, highway robbery along it became a serious problem, and it was replaced by what would become the A40 not too long after. I'm not sure why this major road originally went over such a big hill instead of skirting it.
Either way, the hill was definitely steep, and due to my wheel problem, I was walking my bike up much of it. About 3/4 of the way up, I got a phone call from 13,000 ft in Colorado, which was pretty awesome.
This is what the top looks like today:
And from the top there is also a view of Oxford:
Unfortunately this view is much less pleasant than the classic "dreaming spires" view that one gets from Boars Hill or Rose Hill. Ah well. The best part of the cycle ride is the long downhill from here -- it is downhill to Headington, and then of course (for those who know Oxford), a long downhill from Headington to the city centre itself which is in the valleys created by the Cherwell and Isis. Ice creams halfway down seemed the perfect way to end the day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)