Seeing the world, a recap
After 15 hours of travelling, I got home to piles of work and dove right in. I'm still up to my neck in urgent issues, but I want to take 15 minutes to write about my time there.
Hamilton was definitely a highlight. The theater was wonderfully small and we were smack in the middle on the second tier: great views. The technical parts were flawless - beautiful dancing, beautiful staging. The songs were marvelous - better voices on nearly all the actors than I've heard from the NY soundtrack. Two pieces differed from New York, I think. (I haven't been to the NY performance, so I'm guessing.) One is that there were a couple of times when the actors say "here in New York" that I think were supposed to get applause from a New York live audience. They fell somewhat flat. On the other hand, when the King George character came out he got RAUCOUS applause from the audience sitting half a mile away from Buckingham Palace. That King George character ate up the stage, he was funny and flirty and his voice was great and his body language was great and I cannot conceive of how that character could be done better anywhere on earth. The George Washington and Hamilton characters, the Schuyler sister characters, and the Lafayette/Jefferson characters were all astonishingly wonderful, impossible to see how they could be better. The only character that I think might have been done better in New York was Aaron Burr.
All in all, seeing Hamilton in London was as awesomely wonderful as I could possibly have hoped.
The British Museum. Let's see, I have 11 more minutes. Okay, my plan of "I have only a week to see the world, let's go to the British Museum to see what they stole and brought back to put in one place" did, indeed, turn out to be an efficient way of learning about SO MUCH of the world. I tried to listen to "A History of the World in 100 Objects", but I didn't start in time to get all the way through. I made it through maybe half, though, and it really improved my experience. The first visit we just learned the rooms, scooted through. The second visit I went through more deliberately the Egyptian section, the African section, and skipped around most of the rest, still saving Europe and Britain for later. The third visit we went and got audio guides and went through the European stuff, and went back to look at things from the 100 Objects podcasts we wanted to see specifically.
It was not exactly what I hoped, to be honest. I mean, it worked the way I thought it would: I got to travel the world and see the wonders all from one flat in Bloomsbury, London. But the curating was oddly unaware. They had a nursery-school attitude to much of what we saw; the blood and guts and rape and pillage were excised somehow. Very little lust or love or grief were on display. For example, there was a "cape" found on a young woman that was considered "an adornment". But it secured her from using her arms. This was something used to rape a teenager. But *no one* seemed to think that. It appeared to be an object of honor to them. Including to my husband, who thought I was being vulgar when I pointed out how she was restrained. I wanted to avoid the dirt and grime of Egypt by going to the British Museum, but I managed to avoid the sweat and blood and tears and semen and breastmilk at the same time.
We went to a special exhibit, "Living With Gods" that was supposed to show how humans all, across various cultures, express their relationship to gods. This phenomenon is the underpinning to my own belief; that we are wired for God, that the existence of the plug adapter in my brain is proof that there is something that plugs in there, to me. I went to this exhibit thinking I'd see that play out. It wasn't really what I saw. It was more a dry curation of stuff that seemed vaguely religious to them. And they were WEIRD about what they thought were religious. For example, they thought of dolls as "gods", but they looked exactly like children's play things to me. It became clear that they'd find Barbie in a toy chest and call her a fertility goddess. They would have benefited from some early childhood educational training and perhaps a conversation with a neuroscientist, certainly from discussing with physicists the way 11 dimensions would appear to us who live in 4 dimensions. (Just as a two dimensional creature experiences the third dimension as a dot, I believe we humans experience God in the 11th dimension as basically invisible. Basically, it seemed like a pretty clueless exhibit.
But I really enjoyed the Japanese exhibit - I'll probably never go to Japan so that was nice to learn about it. Also, a short visit through the Korean exhibit piqued my interest. Some nice stuff from Mexico, a bit from Sudan, an Easter Island monolith: I got my wish to travel to foreign lands; I felt like I saw every treasure from Egypt, for example. And I loved the Hindu gods and goddesses all through their "souvenirs of grand tours" room. I recognized how weird it was that these things weren't in their own countries, but was just as complicit in enjoying them in London as everyone else has been for 200 years.
St. Paul's Cathedral was one of my bucket-list moments. Connie Willis is one of my favorite authors and several of her stories are set there amidst the Blitz. I wanted to see Christopher Wren's masterpiece and see Nelson's tomb. So, how was it? Oddly plain after seeing St. Peter's in Rome a couple of years ago. Protestantism, and all that. But also marvelous. The flying stairs under the bell tower were fantastic, built before Newton discovered that gravity was a law. :-) I liked the art through-out, not Bernini level, but thoughtful and nice. I liked the crypt. I loved the Whispering Galleries up above. Ah, those stairs were hard! But there was a performance of Handel's Messiah being done there that night and the orchestra and choir were rehearsing. I went there that afternoon sort of hoping to get late tickets. Nope, no hope of that. But being there when they were rehearsing was *so wonderful*. Maybe even better, as we'd be surprised by joy as we poked around the austere beauty of the place. We lingered in the dome just because it was so wonderful to hear Handel's Messiah from that spot. Bucket-list worthy. I was not disappointed.
One odd thing, though: that church as FILLED with dead soldiers. Nearly every statute was in honor of a dead soldier or sailor. There were swords and cannons and basically it appeared that this was a military chapel of some sort - like the religious branch of the War Department. The cultural prevalence of the war machine was probably invisible to the British, the way fish don't realize they're wet. But it was really clear to me. That British Museum didn't get filled up by gifts: the British armies occupied and seized the the goods. That awareness came more from visiting their church than the museum, oddly enough.
I'm out of time. I'll try to come back to keep reviewing. I went to St. George in Bloomsbury for church services and St. Martin in the Field for a concert of the New London Singers. I went to the Tower of London and the Tate Modern and walked past the Globe Theater (but they were closed.) I went to the London Eye, oops, excuse me, the Coca Cola London Eye, and I went to Harrod's Department Store (which was actually a museum of consumerism.) Dodi & Diana's memorial with her ring! I learned the London buses and London Underground. I ate at pubs, the Bourrough Market, at Indian places, a greek place, and a couple of cafe's, including a cream tea at the British Museum. Oh, and I did a second West End play, "Heisenburg: the Uncertainty Principle". And SantaCon was underway at Trafalgar Square as we came out of the National Gallery. Oh, and we did the Sloane Museum, which I think must have been an inspiration to Isabella Stewart Gardner.
All in all, I did the thing. It was good. It was actually *very* good for my marriage. My husband enjoyed himself nearly always. He was lost most of the time, but there were handy maps on nearly every corner so I almost always knew where I was and where I was going and how to get there, and he was happy to let me be the guide. I got turned around a couple of times - the subliminal problem with the cars driving on the wrong side, I think, but righted myself. I learned to shop in a self-check-out Sainsbury. I learned to count British coins (their dimes are larger than their nickels. It kept throwing me!)
Hamilton was definitely a highlight. The theater was wonderfully small and we were smack in the middle on the second tier: great views. The technical parts were flawless - beautiful dancing, beautiful staging. The songs were marvelous - better voices on nearly all the actors than I've heard from the NY soundtrack. Two pieces differed from New York, I think. (I haven't been to the NY performance, so I'm guessing.) One is that there were a couple of times when the actors say "here in New York" that I think were supposed to get applause from a New York live audience. They fell somewhat flat. On the other hand, when the King George character came out he got RAUCOUS applause from the audience sitting half a mile away from Buckingham Palace. That King George character ate up the stage, he was funny and flirty and his voice was great and his body language was great and I cannot conceive of how that character could be done better anywhere on earth. The George Washington and Hamilton characters, the Schuyler sister characters, and the Lafayette/Jefferson characters were all astonishingly wonderful, impossible to see how they could be better. The only character that I think might have been done better in New York was Aaron Burr.
All in all, seeing Hamilton in London was as awesomely wonderful as I could possibly have hoped.
The British Museum. Let's see, I have 11 more minutes. Okay, my plan of "I have only a week to see the world, let's go to the British Museum to see what they stole and brought back to put in one place" did, indeed, turn out to be an efficient way of learning about SO MUCH of the world. I tried to listen to "A History of the World in 100 Objects", but I didn't start in time to get all the way through. I made it through maybe half, though, and it really improved my experience. The first visit we just learned the rooms, scooted through. The second visit I went through more deliberately the Egyptian section, the African section, and skipped around most of the rest, still saving Europe and Britain for later. The third visit we went and got audio guides and went through the European stuff, and went back to look at things from the 100 Objects podcasts we wanted to see specifically.
It was not exactly what I hoped, to be honest. I mean, it worked the way I thought it would: I got to travel the world and see the wonders all from one flat in Bloomsbury, London. But the curating was oddly unaware. They had a nursery-school attitude to much of what we saw; the blood and guts and rape and pillage were excised somehow. Very little lust or love or grief were on display. For example, there was a "cape" found on a young woman that was considered "an adornment". But it secured her from using her arms. This was something used to rape a teenager. But *no one* seemed to think that. It appeared to be an object of honor to them. Including to my husband, who thought I was being vulgar when I pointed out how she was restrained. I wanted to avoid the dirt and grime of Egypt by going to the British Museum, but I managed to avoid the sweat and blood and tears and semen and breastmilk at the same time.
We went to a special exhibit, "Living With Gods" that was supposed to show how humans all, across various cultures, express their relationship to gods. This phenomenon is the underpinning to my own belief; that we are wired for God, that the existence of the plug adapter in my brain is proof that there is something that plugs in there, to me. I went to this exhibit thinking I'd see that play out. It wasn't really what I saw. It was more a dry curation of stuff that seemed vaguely religious to them. And they were WEIRD about what they thought were religious. For example, they thought of dolls as "gods", but they looked exactly like children's play things to me. It became clear that they'd find Barbie in a toy chest and call her a fertility goddess. They would have benefited from some early childhood educational training and perhaps a conversation with a neuroscientist, certainly from discussing with physicists the way 11 dimensions would appear to us who live in 4 dimensions. (Just as a two dimensional creature experiences the third dimension as a dot, I believe we humans experience God in the 11th dimension as basically invisible. Basically, it seemed like a pretty clueless exhibit.
But I really enjoyed the Japanese exhibit - I'll probably never go to Japan so that was nice to learn about it. Also, a short visit through the Korean exhibit piqued my interest. Some nice stuff from Mexico, a bit from Sudan, an Easter Island monolith: I got my wish to travel to foreign lands; I felt like I saw every treasure from Egypt, for example. And I loved the Hindu gods and goddesses all through their "souvenirs of grand tours" room. I recognized how weird it was that these things weren't in their own countries, but was just as complicit in enjoying them in London as everyone else has been for 200 years.
St. Paul's Cathedral was one of my bucket-list moments. Connie Willis is one of my favorite authors and several of her stories are set there amidst the Blitz. I wanted to see Christopher Wren's masterpiece and see Nelson's tomb. So, how was it? Oddly plain after seeing St. Peter's in Rome a couple of years ago. Protestantism, and all that. But also marvelous. The flying stairs under the bell tower were fantastic, built before Newton discovered that gravity was a law. :-) I liked the art through-out, not Bernini level, but thoughtful and nice. I liked the crypt. I loved the Whispering Galleries up above. Ah, those stairs were hard! But there was a performance of Handel's Messiah being done there that night and the orchestra and choir were rehearsing. I went there that afternoon sort of hoping to get late tickets. Nope, no hope of that. But being there when they were rehearsing was *so wonderful*. Maybe even better, as we'd be surprised by joy as we poked around the austere beauty of the place. We lingered in the dome just because it was so wonderful to hear Handel's Messiah from that spot. Bucket-list worthy. I was not disappointed.
One odd thing, though: that church as FILLED with dead soldiers. Nearly every statute was in honor of a dead soldier or sailor. There were swords and cannons and basically it appeared that this was a military chapel of some sort - like the religious branch of the War Department. The cultural prevalence of the war machine was probably invisible to the British, the way fish don't realize they're wet. But it was really clear to me. That British Museum didn't get filled up by gifts: the British armies occupied and seized the the goods. That awareness came more from visiting their church than the museum, oddly enough.
I'm out of time. I'll try to come back to keep reviewing. I went to St. George in Bloomsbury for church services and St. Martin in the Field for a concert of the New London Singers. I went to the Tower of London and the Tate Modern and walked past the Globe Theater (but they were closed.) I went to the London Eye, oops, excuse me, the Coca Cola London Eye, and I went to Harrod's Department Store (which was actually a museum of consumerism.) Dodi & Diana's memorial with her ring! I learned the London buses and London Underground. I ate at pubs, the Bourrough Market, at Indian places, a greek place, and a couple of cafe's, including a cream tea at the British Museum. Oh, and I did a second West End play, "Heisenburg: the Uncertainty Principle". And SantaCon was underway at Trafalgar Square as we came out of the National Gallery. Oh, and we did the Sloane Museum, which I think must have been an inspiration to Isabella Stewart Gardner.
All in all, I did the thing. It was good. It was actually *very* good for my marriage. My husband enjoyed himself nearly always. He was lost most of the time, but there were handy maps on nearly every corner so I almost always knew where I was and where I was going and how to get there, and he was happy to let me be the guide. I got turned around a couple of times - the subliminal problem with the cars driving on the wrong side, I think, but righted myself. I learned to shop in a self-check-out Sainsbury. I learned to count British coins (their dimes are larger than their nickels. It kept throwing me!)