Dr Matt's Prognosis

2007-06-10T13:54:00.000Z

One of the joys of living in London is that i can mosey about galleries at a leisurely pace rather than having to gallop about in once-a-month gungho extravaganzas as when visiting from the country. I've been trying to get to more of the smaller trendier places rather than just the big name institutions but, that said, have caught some really cool exhibitions at both types of venue in the last few weeks.

Gagosian put on a very nice show Giacometti/Serra/Fontana/Twombly - all sculptures in metal, with a rich diversity of styles from Serra's brutal minimalism to Giacometti's organic expressive almost grotesque figurines. I met this Argentinian architect and had a jolly fine old yarn which extended into a 90 minute coffee after the gallery closed.

Anthony Gormley is a bit of a British icon and certainly the creator of some, so his exhib at the Hayward opened to great acclaim. MJ and I like to keep our fingers on the pulse so were dutifully queueing up on the opening weekend. It is good - see it. The box of smoke is "the new tate slides" - very interesting and fun:

More little man statues - this time all over the Festival Hall and various neighbouring buildings rather than a beach in Lancashire.

The Unknown Monet at the RA with Freja was very splendid, and an excellent opportunity to rant on at length about the Musee Marmottan and the last Monet exhibition i saw which was at the Neue Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, oh you really should get there, it's an iconic building, that's right James Stirling, the same chap who did the Judge Institute, blahblahblah... Surprisingly Freja put up with me for long enough to go to the How We Are, photographing Britain exhib at the Tate Britain - very interesting.

The following day i maintained my role as selfproclaimed mr zeitgeist by catching the hoxton square half of the Damien Hirst exhib - he is very opportunistic but good to see continuations on his earlier themes. The guy in the fluffy dog costume hat streaking across Hoxton Square afterwards was pretty funny too.

2007-05-31T23:08:00.000Z

OK so i've been a bit off task blogwise. I shall make amends. It seems like blogger is being a touch more cooperative in uploading photos which had been one of the sticking points for moi in recent months, but i shall focus on regular bitesize snacks with limited picturage.

That said, here's me on my first day at work in London:

It's a cool job - a staunch, yet vigorously welcomed, contrast to the rarified cloisters of bucolic academia up the M11, or indeed down Anzac Parade. It's mainly about Excel, which i incorrectly thought i had some idea about how to use in late March.

Other news, in increasing order of importance:

Went back to Sydney (again, for three days this time, ouch) and gave a speech. If you thought the pic above was pretty silly, try this on for size. As an added bonus, i got to see Vero distinguish themselves for probably the last time in the BRW triathlon :

Loving London life: the buzziness, the morning rush, feeling like you're right in thick of it, sunny afternoon beers outside City pubs, hunting out trendy art galleries in dodgy industrial estates, the laaate night bottleshops, the mix & unpredictability. Back into running so have been exploring the burbs round us; haven't mastered commuting, or indeed "routines", yet so have been exploring the train, tube and bus timetables from 7:20 to 10:30 am.

Living in Souwf Lundun with these champs:

They're talking on the "telephone" to the "magical aliens" orbiting the "moon". They like to do that sometimes. I do too.

And, Maarinke's moving over in August which will be fantastic - i can barely wait.

So that's about it - i shall endeavour to maintain a more consistent stream of ramble over the next few months than i have the previous.

2007-03-01T20:27:00.000Z

Tate Tracks

Only just online today, here's the latest (and best, I opine) installment in the Tate Tracks series of musical pieces created for and inspired by artworks at Tate Modern: Union of Knives "Four Seasons" after Cy Twombly's Quattro Stagioni

Have a listen.

2007-02-14T20:23:00.000Z

Air Travel: The Only Way

I'm writing this one from the BA lounge at Heathrow - in a far more salubrious, i.e. sober and not sunburnt, state than my last outgoing flight from here - with an hour to kill before my flight. Normally this would be spent reading the economist amongst the hoi palloi and eating some crisps. But not this time - i'm now reading the economist amongst the club world travellers and eating sandwiches - complimentary ones - and drinking wine. Coogee, Darlinghurst and Newtown, here i come - this time in some degree of style. See yer soon!

2007-01-08T00:26:00.000Z

Three London Weekends

So here's what i got up to, in approximately chronological order in London over three weekends in Jan and Feb:
British Museum - French Drawings
Photographer's Gallery - 3 exhibitions
Beef bourgignon courtesy of Superchef Meehan (K)
A much-vaunted brekky at Chelsea Bun w MJ & Ali
V&A - architecture exhibition about residential spaces
Serpentine - Murderme Collection (Damien Hirst's personal collection)
Design Museum - exhibs on Design in 20c Britain, up-n-coming designers and the guy who designed, amongst other things, the V&A symbol for the V&A Museum
LSO concert at the Barbican
Rochester Big'n'Tall - finally somewhere that i can walk into on my giant elephantitus feet confident that i shall not be laughed out when i ask for size 15 loafers.
Russian Winter Festival - a whisker underwhelming
Bloomberg Space - also...
Party in Earl's Court with the old manics crew from UWA
Estorick Collection - futurists, Morandi, exhib on war propaganda posters in Italy
Sotheby's - saw the art going on sale in the Impressionists and Modern Art auction last week, which collectively raised a cool £400m
Yum Cha in China Town - with the art club, always an interesting mix
Sir John Soane Museum - mummy caskets, Turner paintings, Soane's RA lecture architectural sketches - quite a combo
Partying in Shoreditch - it's the only place to do it you know dahling, Mayfair and Knightsbridge have become soooo predictable
Tate Modern - they're amping up for a monster Gilbert and George exhib which hadn't opened yet, but it's always nice to have tea on the terrace... the members terrace...

And that was that.

2007-01-04T17:31:00.000Z

The Grand Northern Tour

Went up to Cumbria to visit Kieran and his family over New Years and having shelled out £78 for a train ticket to Penrith was determined to make the most of it. (Still) Up at the crack of the prepenultimate dawn of 2006, i jumped on the train to Birmingham. Went to the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery in search of Burne Jones and was suitably satisfied and impressed. Socks knocked more off though by the Barber Institute of Fine Arts at the University of Birmingham - it has a fabulously dense high quality collection - one of the best I've seen in England. Back on the train to Penrith, then picked up by Kieran's dad and on to Broughton via Cockermouth (the Wyalkatchem motto, "strange name, beaut place!", could probably be applied here). Authentic and tasty hotpot with black pudding for tea then out "for a couple of quiet ones" in Cockermouth that evening, a convivial ale with the owner of the pub turned into convivial shots of Sambuca with him and about eight other people he knew, and so on and so forth to the local nightclub... Come closing time, I had to find my own way home as Kieran had found his way to someone else's home.

After getting up the following day, we used the remaining 40 minutes of daylight to stroll about both the Little and the Great Broughtons. Saw some sheep and the river Derwent. Lakes District tourism next day: Keswick, Ambleside, Cumberland sausages, Jennings ales, Grasmere, Kendal mint cake, Windermere, Keswick slate, Lake District from Above, what more could ya want? My only retrospective disappointment is that we didn't make it to Egremont, home of the World Gurning Championships, but then again they're on at the Egremont Crab Fair in September - will def try to schedule next visit to coincide! NYE in Cockermouth - sauced - rockin! 200 tonnes of fun!

Went to Manchester to stay as, having been there previously, i kinda knew my way round ish already. Most of the city was pretty dead, being a Monday 1st Jan, so for dinner I set out on a pilgrimage to The Curry Mile of Rusholme in search of the best kebab I've had in the UK, as discovered by one G. Turner and I one Friday night in August 2005. Rusholme was pretty busy (in a strange echo of the bombscare incident of my last trip there, there were at least 30 police out) but, of the 50 or so kebab and curry joints open, none appeared exactly as I'd remembered. After a few moments of reflection on the futility of trying to recapture past experiences and solid interrogation of a spruiker about how they cook their bread, i settled for a double kobeda kebab at the West Bank. It was literally about 12 inches long, double-barrelled, liberally accessorised with olives, pickles, onion, chilli and garlic sauce, spicy, saucy, substantial. Past experience not recaptured (couldn't have honestly been without Grant there) but in many ways adequately substituted. And definitely worth walking 5 kilometres for.

Next day, cultural ambitions fully and heartily realised. Joe Colombo: Inventing the Future exhibition at the Manchester Art Gallery (exhib organised by Vitra Design Museum which i'd visited - on the outside at least - when in Basel), and checked out some of the PreRaph faves too. MetroLink out to Salford - it's a pretty groovy set-up out there - will be great when its grooviness spills sufficiently far east towards Castlefield and they can connect via some kind of a grooviness-rhizome - to The Lowry - Greater Manchester's own Guggenheim Bilbao and tribute to the great LS. Paintings very nice, some fab photos, interior design a little OTT. Back to Manc Picc then train to Liverpool. First stop, the Walker - by its own admission, the national gallery of the north. It is significantly bigger and its collection (certainly that on display) notably more prolific than those in Birmingham, Leeds, Nottingham and Manchester. I haven't been to the Laing or the Graves. In my geo-econo-politico-historico-cultural musings, I couldn't help wondering why that is the case. Is it a coincidental fact, down to the particular admirable actions of one Andrew Barclay Walker? Or is it symptomatic of some deeper industrial/economic/social/cultural forces in action? One possibility that sprang to mind is that Liverpool's prosperity predates that of Manchester and Leeds somewhat due to its position as a port (inasmuch it has arguably been open to outside influences). Moving into the Victorian era, the period during which civic pride and motivations for self-improvement collided and colluded to make the public museum a popular pastime for the bourgeoisie and mandatory accoutrement for every bourg, the scousers were probably better equipped than the mancs or geordies (leeds residents don't have an amusing slang name - seriously check the link: it's some vitriolic funny s--t - look up dff (a varitable plethora of definitions) and cock block for more guaranteed laughs - how far this cultural musation has slidden) to step up to the mark.

Right-o, where were we? Next stop the Open Eye Gallery (which is quite near where Kieran and I drank at least 10 "Seven Sins"-themed shots (envy was good if a little heavy on the chartreuse) EACH whilst conviving with some charming scousy popsies in matching white cowboy hats (not too many dffs iykwim;)) for a Phillipe Chancel exhibition DPRK - a series of fascinating photos from North Korea, one of which was in the Photographic Portrait Prize finalists at NPG. Then down to Albert Docks to the Tate: supercoolkitschy John Armleder installation, Patrick Caulfield, Lowry in Liverpool, Jake and Dinos Chapman: Bad Art for Bad People. The Chapman brothers are extremely clever: the contronting often physically revolting nature of their works made me realise for the first time that art doesn't have to be beautiful to be worthwhile. I hesitate to say good because as they saliently highlighted, with their sculptures of young children with erect phalluses instead of noses, art can't be judged as "good" or "bad", only as "oohgosharentwecleverweknowthatartdoesnthavetobebeautifulheresabigdickhahahaandanotheronecockscockscocksandnazishahaha" or "nodicksinvolvedwhatsoever". I feel genuinely enlightened, if a little jealous - they've earnt themselves more money, fame and alleged repute applying their obvious skills in draughtsmanship and devotion to craft to making cynical, often repulsive, crap than most of us will doing anything else, good, bad or otherwise. The Richard Serra's assistant skit in the rubber glove video was pretty funny though. "Considered as a whole the brothers' work appears to be concerned with what might be described as the redundancy of liberal humanist notions of the redemptive value of the work of art, as well as notions of transgression, which might, by virtue of its 'canonical' place in art theory, be considered equally redundant." I was forced to purchase an architecture tome at the bookshop to redeem and renew my view of creative contributions to the world and a 4pack of Caffreys at the Spar near the train station to redeem and renew my view of life.

Next am, first train to York. It was good. i walked along the wall, saw the castle, had a nice latte, art gallery (pre-e-etty regional, though an interesting exhibition on "conversation", i.e. genre, i.e., borgeouis nunciness, pieces), good lunch, expresso, town centre, minster, museum, stroll through town, went to evening prayer at the minster, more stroll, book, train home via Peterborough, it has a seriously amazingly cathedral (one can only only get so close at 8 o'clock at night - will have to check out again in daylight hours).

The North - done and dusted.

2006-12-22T20:20:00.000Z

2006 Roundup

Well that's it for the year. In the spirit of rounding up, here are my pretentious lists for the year (they tend to be what sprang to mind, and in no particular order):

Art exhibitions (post 1900ish)
1. Modernism, V&A, London
2. Giacometti, AGNSW, Sydney
3. Dan Flavin, Hayward, London
4. Albers and Moholy-Nagy, Tate Modern, London
5. Derain: London Paintings, Courtald, London

Art exhibitions (pre 1900ish)
1. Gothic Nightmares, Tate Britain, London
2. Rodin, Royal Academy, London
3. Velazquez, National Gallery, London
4. Constable, Tate Britain, London
5. Goya Etchings, Museo des Bellas Artes, Vittoria

Art exhibitions (contemporary):
1. Venice Biennale
2. David Hockney, Nat Portrait Gallery, London
3. Summer Exhib, Royal Academy, London
4. Architecture at Night, Kunstmuseum Stuttgart
5. Salon de Refuses, SH Ervin Gallery, Sydney

Photography/film exhibitions
1. The Past from Above, British Museum, London
2. Lee Friedlander, Haus der Kunst, Munchen
3. Sam Taylor-Wood, MCA, Sydney
4. Piero Paolo Pasolini, Pinakothek der Moderne, Munchen
5. Photographic Portrait Prize, AGNSW, Sydney

Art exhibitions (overall/misc.)
1. Russia!, Guggenheim, Bilbao
2. Modernism, V&A, London
3. Self Portrait, AGNSW, Sydney
4. Kunst Lebt!, Kunsthalle, Stuttgart
5. Venice Biennale

Art museums visited (pre-1900 collections):
1. Villa Borghese, Roma
2. Uffizi, Firenze
3. Alte Pinakothek, Munchen
4. National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh
5. Lady Lever Gallery, Port Sunlight

Art museums visited (post-1900 collections):
1. Museum Ludwig, Koln
2. Guggenheim, Venezia
3. Neue Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart
4. Fondation Beyeler, Basel
5. Pinakothek der Moderne, Munchen

Museums visited (overall experience):
1. Guggenheim, Bilbao
2. Neue Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart
3. Burrell Collection, Glasgow
4. Tinguely Museum, Basel
5. Stadtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus, Munchen

Churches visited:
1. Hagia Sofia
2. Canterbury Cathedral
3. Cologne Cathedral
4. Blue Mosque, Istanbul
5. Durham Cathedral

Castles/stately homes visited:
1. Newstead Abbey, Nottinghamshire
2. Audley End, Essex
3. Kishiwada Castle, Japan
4. Leeds Castle, Kent
5. Castle Rising, Norfolk

Books read (non-fiction):
1. Felipe Fernandez Armesto: Millennium
2. Edmund White: The Farewell Symphony
3. Pin Yathay: Stay Alive, My Son
4. Niall Ferguson: The Cash Nexus
5. Jared Diamond: Guns, Germs and Steel

Books read (fiction):
1. Alan Hollinghurst: The Line of Beauty
2. Lionel Shriver: We need to talk about Kevin
3.
4. I need to read more novels.

Topics I've learnt the most about:
1. Project finance
2. Climate change
3. English history
4. Dynamic deformation of lattice structures
5. Hedge funds

It's been an interesting year, fair share of ups and downs; I'm looking forward to a bit more strategic/coherent direction in 2007.

2006-12-22T18:41:00.000Z

Christmas

Disclaimer: Blogger is being slightly uncooperative with regards to the uploading of photos. Accordingly, I shall fill posts with descriptive prose until i've decided whether to adopt a better way of posting pix, move to MySpace or other course of action. More pix are posted on facebook if you're just dying for them.

That said, this year's Christmas celebrations did not yield as many classic snaps as last year so not so much to miss out on pictorially.

Went to London on the 23rd, had lunch with some Micromechanics friends, went to a photo exhibition "In the face of history" at my new favourite London multimedia arts venue The Barbican, did some last minute shopping on Chrissy eve then enjoyed roast pork and mulled wine at Tam and Ben's new Fulham multimedia arts venue The Harwood Arms, Xmas day biiiiig lunch (no turkey necks i'm afraid), rode bike via the City, Bankside, South Bank, Pimlico, Chelsea Embankment to Lavender Hill to see out remainder of Christmas with Kylie and Anthony, rode back on Boxing Day via [as above in reverse] except i went past Southwark Cathedral and across Tower Bridge, went to Photographic Portrait Prize at National Portrait Gallery and checked out rehung 19c paintings "Manet to Picasso" at National Gallery - very nicely set out downstairs in Sainsbury wing. Jumped back in the saddle unhindered by additional acquisitions of booksale booty, and rode at breakneck speed along Shaftesbury Ave, Bloomsbury St and Euston Rd all the way to King's X, then, without showing any sign of slowing let alone dismounting, rode right out along platform 8 through to platform 11b and onto the train where I was swiftly and conveniently brought to a halt by a strategically positioned drinks trolley.

2006-12-22T17:43:00.000Z

Two London Weekends

Went to the Christmas party of the firm I'm joining in April which was a lovely affair - excellent to meet some more of my future colleagues in such convivial surrounds. Following day went to Wallace Collection, saw the exhibition of drawings from Versailles, then to Tate Mod for David Smith sculpture exhib.

Following day, MJ and I went with people from the London Art Club on a tour of several galleries in the East End. They were cool. The galleries, that is. The people were, on average, kinda cool - the organiser James is very cool plus he has a cool bike.

The first place we went to, the Three Dogs Lane gallery, was in an industrial estate, inside a great big rusty building. MJ and I were slightly late and, after receiving instructions by phone ("it's inside the industrial estate on three dogs lane, after that it's really hard to find, there are some arrows but it's really complicated, good luck"), we had to navigate through a series of staircases and corridors til we finally found the gallery. I was reminded of Lynn Barber's article in the observer about how much fun she had as a Turner Prize judge. Describing finding galleries:
"Many of them were shut; a lot were simply unfindable, even with a map. (It is part of the mystique of 'edgy' galleries to hide in warehouses and lock-ups with no visible means of ingress.)"
Molto authentico.

Checked out Vyner St, supposedly highest concentration of galleries in London. "Vyner Street in Hackney is supposed to contain a dozen galleries but even after a year I only found six."

We saw six without looking too hard so i don't know what she was on about. Quite a cool range of exhibitions: best one was pictures of monkeys.

Here's Vyner st on a slightly more appealing day. Pretty unassuming.

The next week we had a Micromechanics end-of-year dinner - not too Christmassy (i.e. at a curry house) but most enjoyable.

Back to London the next morning with the culture-vulture A-team. First stop British Museum.

Saw an exhibition "The Past from Above", spectacular aerial photographs by Georg Gerster of archaeological sites all around the world. Great to be able to see the photos of the sites then go downstairs and check out artifacts from many of them also.

Went to Somerset House to see Courtald Collection, then over to the East India Club to reminisce about the last days of the Raj, what what. Here the chaps assemble for a group portrait photogram - all boys, because girls aren't allowed - and rightly so.

Went to see The Mousetrap - longest running play in the West End (and holder of that title for some 35 years now). It's worth seeing for that reason, and not many others. The guy behind us snoring loudly in the first half evidently concurred. Concluded evening with trail of debauchery leading from Clapham Common to Hackney Town Hall via the Tower of London and St Katherine's docks.

Went to the Rodin exhibition at the Royal Academy, one of the best exhibitions i've been to this year - and quite a few real works of art ;) too, before heading home (via Sainsbury's in Angel as i'd left things a little late for the early-closing shops of rural Cambridge) to cook a dinner party: Thai crab and prawn salad, Moroccan lamb shanks with lemon, olives and couscous.

2006-12-03T20:10:00.000Z

Spontaneous Cultural Day

We'd held high aspirations of visiting the Wren Library one Saturday lunchtime and, accordingly, assembled dutifully in front of Trinity College tremulously excited about the forthcoming serious manuscript-admiration-action. Unfortunately, term was deemed to have finished the day before so that the opening times had changed in our disfavour.

Not ones to waste an opportunity of being up and about, we visited Great St Mary's church and went up the tower to enjoy the view. Unfortunately my own view was hampered somewhat, my glasses having been yoinked off my head by some drunken idiot whilst quietly standing in the queue minding my own business at the local kebabomatorium. Said drunken idiot capered off with them and, by the time I realised ( i was in fact slightly distracted hailing a pair of popsies with whom i'd become vaguely acquainted in similarly salubrious circumstances earlier in the week), disappeared. Suffice to say, my appetite for doner and taramosalata, usually insatiably hearty, was instantaneously quelled and, after a fruitless search for the spectacles, I departed in disgust. Fortunately, my companions, Ben and Ellie, were kind enough to describe the surrounding landscape in sufficient detail and such poetically descriptive terms that I almost felt like I could actually see it myself!

This is Gonville and Caius, the third richest college in Cambridge. Note pink knickerbockers hanging from window to left of tower - feisty.

This is the Senate House, and the University Library in the background.

The latter sparked an interchange regarding the aesthetic qualities of functional Art Deco, which provoked me to make the first of what was to become my catchcry remark for the day "When I was in...(insert travel destination and corresponding pretentious observation here)", in this case Liverpool and a note upon the magnificence of the Art Deco styled Mersey tunnel chimney vent near the Liver Building.

Here's market square looking very colourful:

Here i'm about to launch into another monotribe "when i was in..."

The bookshop in the church was having a sale so we picked up some amazing books at knock-off prices. Titles included: East Anglia from Above, Castles from Above, London from Above, Diary of an Edwardian Lady, Tutankhamen Jigsaw Puzzle Book, Seven Continents of the World Jigsaw Book - fantastic!

Keen to keep the culture coming, we hit the road for a magical mystery tour, first stop the delightful village of Trumpington to get some petroleum. Then off to Ickworth House, Suffolk. We'd actually learnt from the catastrophic Wren Library closure experience so phoned ahead to discover Ickworth House is next open in March, so quickly modified travel plans toward Anglesey Abbey.

Abbey-house itself closed but had very pleasant walk about the gardens:

This birch trunk is soooo smooooth.

After the stroll about the garden and being scared witless getting swooped by some giant bats (or small-ish birds, definitely one of the two), we headed on to Bury St Edmunds for a looksee about town, visit to the Cathedral and dinner.

Here I'm writing a postcard to Iggy who'd missed the trip as he'd had to stay home to tidy his room (which Ben and I had completely rearranged, i.e. every bit of furniture piled on his bed, the previous night - he won't be leaving his room unlocked ever again), about to hoe into the sumptuous chocolate cheesecake.

Finished cultural-vultural day with late screening of Mulholland Drive at Arts Picturehouse then scampered home to do the seven continents of the world jigsaw.

2006-11-08T18:05:00.000Z

Michaelmas Summary

It's been a busy term dominated by the following not-especially-blogworthy activities:

1. Work, of course. We had a paper accepted for publication by Acta Materialia, which proves i've been doing something at least. Plus supervision and lab mark-ups for impressionable undergraduates.

2. Trips to London: Holbein exhibition and Turner Prize at Tate Britain, London Art Club event with MJ, Velazquez exhibition at National Gallery, Teniers exhibition at Courtald, trip to Vinopolis, typical general conviviality.

3. A bunch of events run by the Cambridge Energy Forum, on sustainable energy, Stern Review, energy finance etc. Very interesting, very topical, and most useful for my longer-term cityward ambitions.

4. I've finally admitted that my eyes, as well as my mental faculties, are in decline, and in fact require supplementation. This concession came conveniently close to the expiration of my drivers license; I now have a UK one, which requires me to wear my new glasses. A bit of personal re-branding never hurt anyone.

5. An abundance, if not excess, of college dinners, parties and general rocking in Cambridge.

Here I illustrate a combination of several of the above issues, wearing my new glasses at a dinner at Queens with two of my workmates.

2006-11-01T14:53:00.000Z

Creaticality

I was recently, in my daily toings'n'froings as a polymath, asked an interesting question:
"how would one, in general, determine the measure of the set intersection ofmultisamples with specified bounded difference between their analytic andempirical mean, in the case where the samples are NOT independent?"

Pondering this gave me a unique opportunity to, having given my initial thoughts on the issue (which, for brevity, i won't go into here), lock down my patented problem solving method for once and for all. I feel compelled now, though a sense of collegiate duty, to share this with the world:

(from the seminal email:)

__________________________________________________________________
...i think the way to solve the problem is as follows:

1. start with some brainstorming, really just open up your mind to unlock the creative spirit within, put yourself in a totally uncritical state, get those thoughts out there, even those fragmentary thoughts, I like to call them Proto-Thoughts or Thoughtlets, or even their predecessors Proto-Thoughtlets, and just mix them all up; then

2. distil the Proto-Thoughtlet mixture that you've created, now's the time to be a bit more critical yet no less creative, try to apply what i like to call Creaticality, still being totally creative yet at the same time being critical of your creation; now,

3. having sorted your Proto-Thoughtlets into a more ordered and critically analysed set of sorted Thoughlets, or Soughtlets, try to structure them, perhaps with the use of a knowledge-structuring flowchart, or KnowChart, aim to capture the connections between the nodes on the KnowChart, i like to call them Knowdes. By now, the shape of the problem should be emerging, through a process we at FuzzyThought (Strategic Advisory Partners) like to call Pshmerging.

4. Having built up the structure of the problem in a process of ConStructuration, utilising the KnowChart method, it is now time to DeConStructurate it into a set of much smaller problems, called Probleminos (from the Italian) through a process of analytical dissection (AnalSection).

5. If you have correctly DeConStructurated the problem, the answer to each Problemino should be obvious; in some cases, while the answer may be staring you in the face, you may have to plumb the deeper truths of the universe in order to recognise it.

6. Reassemble the Problemino answers into the total answer: voila!

Hope this helps!

Dr Matt
_________________________________________________________
Chief Strategic Advice Delivery Implementation Executive
FuzzyThought
Strategic Advisory Partners

_________________________________________________________________

And here we have a testimonial:

Dr. Matt,

I would like to thank you for your priceless insights into these complex set disjointedness issues plaguing top management in Control Lab today. Incidentally, what is your chargeout rate? Your innovative strategies have been identified to be radical and creative, yet simultaneously cost effective and action-oriented, guaranteed to yield maximal longterm growth in set nondisjointedness; degree of intersection, even. May I take this opportunity to commend you for your deep specialist knowledge of the set disjointedness problem with that unique interdisciplinary (Physics, Chemistry, Italian and philosphy to name but a few) perspective and experience in noncompliant disjoint sets that you clearly possess.

Distilling strategy into the few simple subsets you have suggested has proven to be a powerful tool in aligning the set behaviours. FuzzyThought strategies have enabled channelling my organisation's energy on a selective set of set intersection opportunities and sources of distinct disjoint competitive advantage; they make the whole set union worth so more than the disjointed parts. With your honed thinking in place, I have derived a conservative lower bound on the confidence level associated with the sets in question, to allow for the uncertain, dynamic nature of set disjointedness facing us all today, dealing with the case where the sets in question are indeed fully disjoint, thus eliminating risk. I believe exploiting the structure somehow of the conditionally independent functions associated with each of the sets could yield a less conservative bound, thus reducing the number of samples required; it is not immediately apparent though how this could be achieved- Perhaps you could shed some light.

Dr. Matt, my hearty thanks to you and all at FuzzyThought; Control Lab is indebted to you for granting us faster, better responses to changes in the competitive set environment , from the elimination of initial internal disjointedness barriers, setting our sets free. I'm sure you'll agree, there's been considerable intersection in thinking between FuzzyThought and Control Lab, and the illumination of such profound insights distinguishes FuzzyThought, indeed renders it disjoint from, the Strategy Consulting competition facing it today, tomorrow and the forseeable future.

We at Control relish the prospect of doing business with you again.

Miss Ellie MEng MA Oxon.
Control Lab

2006-10-31T11:12:00.000Z

Woohoo!! My question got answered on the FT "Ask the experts" website. Last week, in honour of the 20th anniversary of Big Bang, the deregulation of the financial markets in London which led to its growth in importance as a financial centre, Sir Nicholas Goodison, former chairman of the LSE, wrote an article on "whether London can stay at the top" and answered questions on the FT website. His article was broad but pretty interesting, as was his answer to my question (scroll down near the bottom of the page).

2006-10-27T21:56:00.000Z

CardiffBristolLondon

Went to Cardiff to give a talk at the Institute of Theoretical, Applied and Computational Mechanics.

It went pretty well I think - i managed to not waffle on for too long and they asked lots of good questions afterwards. Not keen to face the train-mission back to Cambridge that night, I went to Bristol to stay at Tim's and to catch up with Leah and some of her pals. We had a jolly corking time in a number of salubrious establishments.

Then we went to the Lizard Lounge. No no, no no no no, no no no no, no no there's no limits. No limits to our collective exuberance at the fantastic music, that's for sure.

Bristol's Catholic Cathedral, down the road from Tim's place, is quite a cool modern building, in a similar style to that of Liverpool.

Went to London on the weekend to catch up on exhibitions. Tam and I did no less than 4 in one day: Cezanne in Britain at the National Gallery (very nice selection if not particularly thematic); David Hockney at National Portrait Gallery (fab - plenty of his famous pieces and some great newer works, cool to see this so soon after visiting the 1853 gallery in Saltaire); V&A (just checked out permanent collection, esp. photography and fashion); Fischli & Weiss at Tate Modern (cool variety of clever, thought-provoking works).

Saw the slides at Tate Modern which are the talk of the town at the mo. See here and here and here. They're quite cool (not ridden on them yet however) and extremely popular though the art-i-ness is somewhat ambiguous- very Tate Modern then. (Get yer hand off it, Matt...)

2006-10-18T16:25:00.000Z

Venezia

MJ and I set off, after respective demanding weeks, from Stansted to Treviso for a bit of RnR La Serenissima style. Made it in pretty good time, all things considered, to Ponte Santa Lucia and our hostel.

A quick Duo Panini Por Favore, a glass of Valpolicella, and a packet of Italian twisties and

Up bright'n'early, first espressos for the day and onto a vaporetto.

Woohoo! Boats and stuff!

The water levels were definitely higher than when i was last in Venice in 99. Not quite acqua alta but just about.

The Biennale was still on so we headed over to Giardini to check that out.

Italian pavilion:

Had a lookee at the Australian pavilion:

Cool to see a reference to Kellerberrin wheatbelt town near where my grandparents had a farm (and where Dad was born!).

Headed back into the centre of the touristy action:

then to Accademia where we amused ourselves in the queue with some pistachio cake - hey baby, you're the real work of art!

then to the Guggenheim

where peggy was kind enough to say hi to us in the gift shop.

After a bit of regrouping and dinner in Cannaregio, we made our way back towards Dorsoduro to see a Vivaldi concert in an old church:

Very splendid, and sufficiently culturally virtuous that we could justify a few cocktails in San Polo before bedtime.

Next morning we vaporettoed out to the Murano to look at a very large amount of glass, ranging from the supercool to the megatacky.

Back to the main city, I semi-successfully navigated us straight to the Ca Pesaro, which we'd previously spied from the Canal Grande:

Terrestrial aspect is more like this:

Had a very nice lunch: authentic Venetian dish, cuttlefish in squid-ink sauce with white polenta.

Strolled along the main tourist route, across the Rialto towards San Marco.

Realised we'd both left our Biennale tickets in our bags in the lockers at Ferrovia, so we couldn't check out the other half of the show. Substituted this with molto authentico Birra Morreti,

and had a wander around Arsenale then vaporettoed back to the train station.

Whilst having a last glass of vino at a cafe we managed to get involved in a conversation with some fellow Australian travellers. Their story about going on a gondola (pah, how cliched...) was so incredibly boring that MJ and I both fell asleep with our eyes open. When we jolted awake, time had run away from us, and a madcap dash was required to get to Piazzale Roma before our bus left. Made it and sweated profusely all the way to Treviso airport.

MJ pulled off a brilliant queue-jumping blag at the airport "Oh, i've been in an accident recently and my leg's quite injured, and he's my carer, so can we come on with the people with babies?"
2001 is pretty recent. And I'm a good carer.

2006-10-17T17:06:00.000Z

Scotland and the North

Mum had been on a highland tour; i went up and met her in Edinburgh, ready for a road trip and champing at the bit for haggis, long-haired cows, tweed, black-pudding, whippets and big, baked yorkies.

Went for a couple of runs round the city, both that evening and the following morning, which was a cool way to get a feel for the different areas.

Solid art morning: National Gallery of Scotland - highlights: Titian's "Diana and Callisto" and "Diana and Actaeon", Poussin's Seven Sacraments and

the flagship painting (voted 7th most popular painting in Britain last year) Sir Henry Raeburn's Reverend Walker Skating.

Quick visit to the adjoining Royal Scottish Academy - they were kind of between exhibitions so a bit thin on the ground - then off to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art and the Dean Gallery - highlights at latter being Eduard Paolozzi sculptures and paintings and cool Miro and Ernst pieces,

and the sculpture garden outside:

Hit the road and made tracks for Glasgow, arriving in time to visit the recently-refurbished Kelvingrove museum. Built for the International Exposition in 1882, when Glasgow asserted itself as the second city of the British Empire, it exudes a nouveau riche Victorian grandeur eclipsing anything that the much older Edinburgh has to offer:

Went for a walk around the Kelvingrove River and the University of Glasgow,

then up the hill in Kelvingrove Park - yep good idea Mum.

Can't say if the view was worth it because my eyes were watering so heavily from the exertion of hauling my monstrous bulk all the way up.

Had some haggis for dinner, which was (slightly disappointingly) tasty and edible - but a good way to maintain, if not supplement, my aforementioned monstrous bulk.

Next morning, swung by the Glasgow School of Art designed by the city's favourite son, Charles Rennie Mackintosh:

then off to Glasgow Cathedral

and the St Mungo Museum of Religious Art. Saw, amongst other things, some Burne-Jones-designed and William Morris-produced stainglass windows:

Went into town and had a cup of tea at the famous Willow Tea Rooms (whose insides were designed by Mackintosh in what became known as the Glasgow style, a variant on Jugendstil/Art Nouveau).

Check out the chairs!

Visited the Lighthouse centre - kind of a design/architecture museum with a cool tower with excellent views over the city

Nipped into the Gallery of Modern Art - Art Galleries of the World was spot on the money with this one: visit for the building not the contents.

Went out to the Burrell Collection; significant parallels with the Getty: big collection of art, antiquities and artifacts endowed by a rich industrialist (Sir William Burrell) and housed in an iconic modern building (designed by Gasson, Meunier and Anderson of the School of Architecture at Cambridge, and named as Scotland's second greatest post-war building in a poll of architects by Prospect magazine in 2005 - thanks wikipedia).

Had some haggis for lunch!!

The building design and the way the collection is set out is fantastic

Hit the road south, crossed the border into Cumbria and roughly followed Hadrian's wall east. Had a look at a section of the Wall before light faded (it was almost 3pm after all)

The sheep grazed utterly oblivious of the historical import of the northside fence of their field.

Made it along to Durham after nightfall and grabbed some dinner, including a trendy fusiony black pudding entree and a knock-off priced Pinot Noir (oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.). You just can't go past all that at only £7 a bottle.

Went to Matins at the Cathedral - one of the more spectacular in England.

and had a jolly fine stroll along the river and through the town.

Next stop, the, one might say, more quintessentially northern (more so than Durham which is full of them thar bluddy soothen stoodent taaps), town of Barnard Castle for a hearty Sunday roast with almost-authentic (technically we were still in Co Durham not the Shire of York yet) Yorkshire pudding, then to the Bowes Museum

Here I'm transported back through the centuries with the simple application of a ruff.

One of the features of the Bowes Museum is the Silver Swan, a clockwork swan that, when wound, plays misic and moves its head around, snaking about then bobbing forward to nip a fish from the water. The whole performance occurs once every three weeks except in Lent, and lasts for about 21.6 seconds, so we were most fortunate to witness it.

Southward ho, to Ripon Cathedral, one of the oldest in England - the first church to St Wilfrid was built there in 607,

then on to Leeds. Our hotel was right in the centre of town and i have to admit the traffic system had us slightly foxed, but we made it there ok and headed in for dinner, which we enjoyed at a very authentic West Yorkshire style establishment, called Wagamama.

Strolled about the next morning,

then headed along to the Leeds City Art Gallery and the Henry Moore Institute

To be quite frank, my expectations were not exceeded by any means, due mainly to misalignment between the offerings and my tastes. The Victorian-era collection on display there is dwarfed by collections in Manchester and Liverpool, though there is more modern stuff, particularly sculpture.

Heading westward out of town, we stopped off at Kirkstall Abbey, a ruined Cistercian monastery dating back to the mid 12th century. While the ruins are pretty spectacular, the abbey must have been mindboggling when extant.

Wester still is the town of Saltaire, an industrial village on the outskirts of Bradford built by Sir Titus Salt back in the good old days of dark satanic mills when England actually produced and exported real stuff not just financial and management consultancy services.

It is designated as a UNESCO world heritage site due to its significance as the first purpose-built industrial town, and one of the main mills has been turned into The 1853 Gallery, featuring the works of Bradford-born David Hockney.

Further south of Leeds, we partook of the final activity of our Grand Northern Road Trip, a visit to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park.

A highlight is the selection of Henry Moore pieces set against a backdrop of the misty Dales.

Back on the M1 and zoomzoom back to Cam, thankfully avoiding sustaining any speeding tickets.
Jolly fine trip. Once again, Mum, I would like to take the opportunity to apologise for being the most obnoxious passenger-seat driver ever to grace the A650-M62 interchange.

2006-10-17T17:04:00.000Z

NorfolkSuffolk

Mum came to visit and, having done all the Cambridge things last year, needed to be entertained further afield. So we hired a car, an upgrade from the hire place to a Peugot 307s convertible - niiiiice, and set out into the hinterland. Friday, we went to Duxford Imperial War Museum where we checked out heaps of cool planes, including a Blackbird, a B52 and the first Concorde ever made, which one can walk inside.

Definitely gives the National Air & Space Museum in Washington a run for its money.

The next day we set forth for Norfolk. First stop, Eric St John-Foti's Collectors World. "Possibly Norfolk's greatest eccentric and prolific collector, the original Mr 'Norfolk Punch' himself, Eric St John-Foti has displayed his extraordinary lifetime collections..."

Extra-ordinary, indeed. Some of it is set out thematically, eg. the Christmas rooms, highly redolent of the first scene of City of Lost Children:

Other sections are more random, but mindboggling nonetheless:

One of the newspaper articles likened E SJ-F to Norfolk's JP Getty, i think WR Hearst would be a more appropriate comparison. Definitely worth a visit though next time you're in the SW Norfolk area.

On to Castle Rising, the one time home of Queen Isabella, widow of Edward II and mother of Edward III.

This is the slot through which boiling oil would be poured on prospective invaders:

Further north to Sandringham. Our royalist tendencies were insufficient to provoke a full tour of the house but the gardens were very nice.

Next stop: Wells-next-the-sea, a charming fishing village next to the estuarine inlets that make up most of the coastline of north Norfolk.

Then on to Great Yarmouth where we stayed that night. I think I preferred the ambience of Wells-next-the-Sea with only the creak of swaying boats and the occasional gull's cry over the peacefulness of the estuary (as opposed to drunken stags nights shouting and staggering out of mini-casinos and amusement arcades blaring happy-hardcore and poker-machine sounds).

Still, we went for a very nice, more peaceful stroll along the beachfront the following morning:

There's a big windfarm project, Scroby Sands, 3 km off the coast - very interesting - the windmill towers are 60m high and the blades are 40m long - this is the future of renewable energy. If we're going to stop burning coal and oil, there'll need to be quite a few more of these set-ups around the country, and indeed around every country that gets a bit of breeze from time to time.

Eco-techno-philosophising aside, Great Yarmouth also afforded me the opportunity to purchase some Rock which has been a dream of mine ever since I moved to England.

Eating it has been a dream of mine too. Mmmm, touristy AND sugary.

Headed out to the Norfolk Broads.

Checked out the Broads Museum;

looked at some yachts;

and did a bit of sailing of my own.

Learnt that the Broads were in fact partially manmade, resulting from water filling up holes left after peat had been dug out during the middle ages.

Next stop, after a hearty pub lunch Sunday roast, was Somerleyton House, a Victorian stately home built on the site of an early Jacobean mansion. Not quite as historical as, say, Audley End (scroll down) or Castle Rising, but the transition of the Victorian industrialists (like Sir Morton Peto, founder of Somerleyton house, and Sir Francis Crossley, who bought it from him) from entrepreneurial bourgeousie to semi-aristocratic landed gentry is an important aspect of English history. And the gardens are very nice.

I'd been harbouring aspirations of making it as far as Stratford St Mary's, the heart of Constable Country in South Suffolk, but it wasn't looking very promising. Consolation prize was Southwold Pier; nice coastline but bloody cold wind.

Keen to cram one more experience into the day, we stopped off at Framlingham Castle which is another mighty bit o' history in the middle of Suffolk.

No Constable, unfortunately, but a prolific tour nonetheless; fab to get out an about in the countryside and see a bit more of this sceptr'd isle.

2006-10-03T20:29:00.000Z

Sydney

It was a little bit touch-and-go for a few moments as to whether I'd make my flight after 28 hours of continual carousing, but my fears

were unfounded and it was no time before I was buckled up next to a nice gentleman from Marseilles who insisted (not much provocation required) i have some cognacs with him. My grand plans of reading and working for the entire flight were canned in favour of flicking through the inflightmag and passing out. Stopped off in Bangkok oblivious to the coup d'etat that was going on at the time, then bunkered down for final leg to syd.

Arrived to glorious weather and went straight to Coogee Beach for b/fast and beachside ramble:

Walked into town that afternoon to MCA,

then caught up with Grant who hasn't lost any of his unique ability to summon amazing facial expressions.

HIghlights of subsequent week:

Morning runs round Balmain and across the harbour bridge, round botanical gardens (i made the mistake of sprinting off from Maarinke on the way over the bridge - she offered to do the whole circuit again - i was in no state to call her bluff, which was probably obvious from my purple face)

Placebo concert at Hordern

Giacometti exhibition at AGNSW

I discovered after all these years that the iconic statue outside AGNSW was in fact by Brett Whiteley, whose studio in Surry Hills we finally got round to visiting.

Some fab dinners at The Wharf, Oscillate Wildly.

Brekky with Hoffmans at Dee Why - i can't believe it was still only early spring and such amazing weather.

Went to the Structural Integrity and Fracture Conference and gave not one but two talks, that looked a little something like this: The conference dinner was on my birthday so I celebrated by drinking not one but two bottles of wine.

If you thought i looked kinda funny in the photos when I was talking, check out this corker of my PhD supervisor, Mark, the (now past-) president of the Australian Fracture Group during his after-dinner speech. What a bewdy!

Had a more laidback bday dinner the following night in Balmain. Saw out my final weekend with a BBQ, strolls round Balmain and brekky at Balmoral Bathers Pavilion. $93 for breakfast for two helped me prepare for my return to English prices. Fab trip, very busy, great to see everyone! Might be while before i'm back so good to packed as much in as i did.

2006-10-03T20:25:00.000Z

London Weekender

A grand expedition (i.e. i didn't just go by myself) set out from Cambridge to London one Friday afternoon at the start of autumn. After a few pubs in the City including the famous Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, went on to the Globe to see Titus Andronicus, "certainly Shakespeare's bloodiest tragedy". Fantastic performance - definitely glad we stood in the yard, rather than shelling out for seats in the stands - being right in the action was tremendous (except for the girl who fainted and had to be carried out by paramedics - apparently she found the whole "Enter Lavinia, her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravished" thing a bit overwhelming).

Post-show drink at The Founders Arms

This Borat High-five thing has to stop. Perhaps after the movie (Nov 2 release date - put it in your diaries!).

Went Broadway Markets with MJ:

& bought an awesome custard slice:

Off to Tate Modern to meet up with the lads. They Kandinskyed, I permanent collectioned - first proper lookee-see since the june rehang.

Thames Festival was in full swing outside so we grabbed lunch there,

had another Thames-side beer

and headed to Temple to check out the Templar church there.

Reconvened with supplementary troops in Clapham for dinner and general hilarity.

Round midnight it was then decided, after a brief adjournment at the Goat, to go on to Shoreditch.

The remaining activities for the evening can be summarised pictorially:

Sunday was spent preparing myself for my flight to oz.

This involved hiking across half of London in order to have a quick bev in Kentish Town then hiking back to the east end then to Heathrow. I've had better flights.

2006-10-03T19:28:00.000Z

Leicester and Nottingham

Some of my micromechanics chums were in Nottingham for a Continuum Mechanics workshop so I decided to join them, not so much for continuum mechanics, but more for a horizon-expanding excursion to the midlands.

Got the train (actually replacement bus unfortunately - don't get me started...) to Leicester, home of Adrian Mole.

Went to the New Walk gallery,

where I saw, amongst other things (contemporary Chinese installations and paintings, German expressionism, LS Lowry paintings...), a giant prehistoric dog

Managed to escape unharmed and strolled about Leicester for a bit, enjoying the parks and sunshine,

checked out the cathedral,

Look how close together the gravestones are. Short people?

Crossed the Trent.

Moseyed round the castle gardens, site of much historic activity, including

Made it to Nottingham and headed out for a few.

Went for a stroll about the Uni of Nottingham campus.

Headed into town to pay respects to Robin Hood:

Visited Castle Museum:

where I saw Sir Bloom-a-lot

Had a pint at the Oldest Inn in England:

Checked out the bomb shelters in the cliff below the castle. The city is on limestone which is easy to tunnel into, so lots of the buildings have cellars burrowed into the bedrock.

Wandered round the more modern Jubilee campus of the uni:

then went into town to try to find a dining establishment that isn't part of a chain. Was successful in locating the single such establishment (in the entirety of the UK) and can heartily recommend Punchinello - it's near Wagamama and Pizza Express and Cafe Rouge.

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Breakfast of champions: 1 doubleshot cappucino, 1 doubleshot latte, 1 egg-bacon-n-black-pudding-baguette. Heartstoppingly delicious!

Regentrified waterfront area on the Trent:

Bussed out to Newstead Abbey, ancestral home of the Byrons.

This was Lord Byron's bedroom as he kept it.

Here's his study

This is me re-creating some of Lord Byron's famed deviant crossdressing moments (clear evidence for why they shouldn't let children play in the historical-costume activity-room unsupervised):

Cloisters
Being Robin-Hoody in the gardens:

The gardens are beautifully laid-out

Headed back into town and visited Wollaton Hall, which was unfortunately being refurbished. This is the only aspect not dominated by scaffolding.

The parkland surrounding the home are expansive and delightful.

After such a culturally-productive day, it was a shame Iggy had to spoil it by enticing me to debauchery. The events following their workshop dinner do not bear recounting...

Another breakfast of champions, enticing cocktail of black pudding, caffeine and corporate finance, and off i went back to cambridge.

2006-09-08T01:12:00.000Z

Kent

Up bright'n'early champing-at-our-collective-bit after formal hall at Corpus, Iggy, Ben & I embarked on our cultural tour to Kent for the weekend. Our excitement wasn't the sightest bit diminished three hours later when we'd progressed 800m from the M11 on-ramp.

Made it past the Medway to Upnor Castle. Which we didn't visit. But we took some snaps in case we didn't get around to visiting anything else cultural and had to pretend in retrospect that we had.

Here the envoy poses in forest near the fine medwayside village of Upnor, just outside Rochester:

This is the garden of the Seven Traveller's Inn, from the book of the same name by Dickens. He lived in Rochester for a significant period of his life, and a number of buildings around town featured in his works.

Checked out Rochester Cathedral, the second oldest in England,

Then to Rochester Castle, a Norman keep.

Ben bought a bow-and-arrow set from the giftshop; predictably wacky antics ensued.

Hit the road again to Canterbury, found our hostel then headed coastward to Whitstable, the centre of the Kentish Riviera:

A remarkably civilised evening, like seriously amazingly, like, unbelievably civilised, i don't think i've made it clear to you how civilised it was: we only had two cocktails each at a bar in Canterbury AND we engaged in a conversation. No shouting "That's what I'm talking about" whatsoever. An appropriately abstemious preparation for a pious day of tourism to follow.

Checked out the ruins of St Augustine Abbey

then St Martin's church, the oldest Church in England, started by St Augustine (not the St Augustine of Hippo, this one was an abbot in Rome, sent to England by Pope Gregory the Great in AD597 to convert Ethelbert, king of Kent). He also started the abbey, and Canterbury Cathedral, of which he was the first archbishop:

That was pretty speccy, cool to see the Thomas Beckett murder spot and wander round the grounds.

With Canterbury done-and-dusted, we travelled on to Leeds Castle:

They have a cool maze in the garden which, having made it through to the middle, eventually, one exits through an underground tunnel.

Ben had a pretty clever idea of, whilst we were posing for a photo, knocking me off a wall into a briar patch.

To be honest, there were less half-eaten ice-cream cones in the bin than I'd hoped.

Bidding the famed Leeds swans farewell, we headed into Tunbridge Wells for dinner. Royal Tunbridge Wells is supposed to be full of Georgian elegance, natural beauty: "In Georgian times this popular spa town gained a reputation as the place to see and be seen amongst royalty and fashionable members of the aristocracy." In modern times it seems to warrant a reputation as the place to see and be seen amongst drunk chavs staggering about on the footpaths, barely able to push their strollers in a straight line (and pretentious, cynical visitors from Cambridge).

Rounded out the bank holiday weekend with a trip to London to the BBC Proms with KnA. Gershwin "Rhapsody in Blue" = great.
Bernstein "Fancy free" = fab.
Fujikara "Crushing Twister" = dismal.

And it wasn't just us that thought that.

The Telegraph said:
"Before Bernstein's Fancy Free, Fujikura's Crushing Twister sought to translate the disco DJ's arcane principles of "scratching'' to the realms of the symphony orchestra, resulting in a piece that showed how easily an unusual idea can fall flat."

and the Times:
"Crushing Twister, by the 29-year-old Anglo-Japanese composer Dai Fujikura. Hazlewood's excitable introduction about DJs, scratching, and how material would be bounced, slightly out of sync, between three ensembles, led one to expect a wild meshing of disparate sonic worlds. But Fujikura's language seems mired in the usual boring, post-serial modernist complexity, and the three ensembles were so densely undifferentiated in instrumentation that any sense of interplay was lost."

Ouch. DJ Spooky - Subliminal Strings carried off the concept infinitely better.

2006-09-08T01:07:00.000Z

Various Cambridge Activities - Late Summer

I can't be bothered mucking around with more photo uploads from two months ago, but here are a couple of funny ones i've already uploaded:

Robinson College Caribbean dinner - the lads Hawaiian stylee.

After post-dinner drinks at the salubrious Cindy's:

Went to Northamptonshire for a sunny summery day of waterskiing, swimming and BBQing by a lake, to celebrate the birthday of one John Rowell.

On the plus side, there was a keg. And we met some nice people. Who were also cold.

I promise a more linear narrative in my next post.

2006-09-08T00:55:00.000Z

StuttgartGreeceIstanbulBasel

I had a conference in Greece in July which I managed to extend into a grand pan-European tour.

Arrived in Stuttgart and found bearings. Capital of State of Baden-Wurtemburg, home to Porsche, Bosch, DaimlerChrysler and various other hi-tech companies, it is one of the most prosperous cities in Germany and has been on the forefront of avant-garde architecture for much of the 20c.

Checked out Kunstmuseum Stuttgart, which was showing an exhibition "Illuminated Buildings – Architecture by Night",

then the "Kunst ist leben" exhibition at Kunsthalle & then a Monet exhibition and the permanent collection Staatsgalerie Stuttgart. The latter is an architecture-textbook staple, designed by James Stirling, an excellent example of early "postmodernism".

The Monet exhibition was OK, though I get a bit bored by Impressionism (the little old ladies seem to love trooping along to these exhibitions everywhere from Munich to Melbourne, London to LA), but the main collection was super: highlights were Oskar Schlemmer paintings and costumes (similar to those in Modernism exhib at V&A), Giacometti, Kirchner and Picasso. Here I am sneaking hither and thither (i wasn't meant to be taking photos... teehee...)

Met up with Antje for dinner at a biergarten.
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Next day, went to the recently re-opened Mercedes Museum, now housed in a fantastic new building designed by UN Studio in Amsterdam.

Checked out all kinds of early models, racing cars, landspeed record-holders,

and the popemobile!

Met up with Antje & some of her friends at a pub to watch the Argentina vs Germany World cup match. That was cool fun - especially as Germany won. The remainder of the evening would probably have been more subdued had they not (which may, in retrospect, for some of our party, been a good thing).

I assimilated (i could pass for a Deutschlander, language aside - ich sprechen keine Doitch)

Met up with Feli and Flo for dinner,

and even more Hoffman-research-group alumni after dinner (they are pretty much all working for the car industry, either directly or indirectly - it's big business there)

Postgame festivities were pretty vigorous. Streets were cordoned off in the centre of town to accomodate the revellers. About 8 hours later, Bence got a talking to from the Polizei. Enough said. The remaining time in Stuttgart was more subdued - enjoying the nice weather, swimming and a BBQ. It was great catching up with Antje and the others & getting a bit of a feel for Stuttgart which is a fantastic city.
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Headed to Greece. Landed in Thessaloniki;

got bus to Alexandroupolis,

and settled in for the 16th European Conference on Fracture. Due to my general leave-it-to-the-last-minute-ness, my hotel was a bit of a hike out of town in a tiny village called Icantrememberopoulis near the town of Maronia. The coastline there was quite nice.

Conference talk went well. Dinner was fun - sat with a variety of Belgians, French Canadians, Scandinavians, some of whom I'd met at the 15th European conf on Fracture in Stockholm in 2004.

Here's Scott, who works for NASA, and Brent, who's at my alma mater UWA, and who later reneged on his promise to call me in Istanbul where he was travelling after the conference also - thanks a lot, mate. Maybe he didn't like the way I leant up against him in the photo.

Here're the cool kids from my table.

After the final session, i donned less formal attire and headed for the beach.

This is the island of Samothraki, from where the famous statue The Winged Victory (or Nike) of Samothrace at the Louvre (it's a headless, armless marble thing with wings, the third most famous piece at the Louvre after ML and VdM) derived.

Headed into town with my co-author, Ivar, and his wife, Cathy. I hadn't seen them since 2004, when I'd visited Colorado and they'd most kindly looked after me and shown me the Rockies, so it was great to catch up. Especially over a plate of grilled, cured octopus. Mmmm, tentacley.

After dinner and goodbyes, i began (what I didn't realise at the time would be) my arduous journey that would eventually culminate in successfully boarding the train to Istanbul. In an appropriately exciting and romantic set-up, the train departs nightly at 1am from a tiny station about a kilometre down the track from the main Alexandroupoli station. The catch is: they don't sell tickets from the small station, only the main one. The other catch is: they don't tell you that at the main station, they just point down the track to the small one.

Even once i was on the train, the fun wasn't over: they take your ticket and passport for a couple of hours then at about 4, at the border, everyone without a visa is hauled out and forced to dance naked for the gratification of the border guards, who drink reiki from the bottle and sing loud, apparently bawdy (if the actions are anything to go by), folksongs whilst shooting into the air. I made the last bit up. But they do make you go into the little borderhouse and queue up to get a visa. There are a strict set of criteria to be fulfilled: 1. you have some money. 2. you give it to them. Welcome to Turkey! I'd stayed up for this, so was the least bedraggled-looking in the visa queue, though paid for it in added bedraggle-factor when we pulled into Istanbul Central 3.5 hours later.
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It was all worth it once I got there and stood on the side of the Bosphorus:

And after one of these babies,

i felt like a new man. Had a stroll through the Topkapi Gardens (presumably named after Topkapi Pide and Kebab, Enmore Road, Enmore - voted number 1 kebab in Sydney by me three years running).

The park was full of couples enjoying the romantic surrounds - literally dozens of them. I noted that, in every case, the keen guy (representative of secular Turkey and its vulnerability to decadent Western values...or lack thereof) looked like he was trying to talk the reluctant girl (representative of traditional Turkey and its adherence to Muslim doctrine and values) into a bit of eh-wink-wink-nudge-nudge-eh, but they didn't seem to be very successful (what this represents in terms of Turkish culture or Eurasian geopolitics I couldn't say).

This is probably an appropriate juncture to mention that there's an inlet in Istanbul called The Golden Horn - don't believe me? look at the centre panel of this map. Pretty funny, eh?

Went to Topkapi palace (they must love that kebab shop too!):

then to the Archaeology Museum

then to Hagia Sofia

then to the Blue Mosque

What a remarkable day! But the fun wasn't over yet. What started out as a quick stroll to grab some pide for dinner turned into an epic mission across Istanbul, involving two dubious (very, very dubious) Cypriots, sheeps brains, Turkish transsexuals, a number of glasses of reiki, Ukrainian hookers and a painfully inopportune dearth of map, and ending in me having to resort to the "keep-walking-downhill-and-hope-you-get-to-the-water-and-can-work-out-where-the-bloody-hell-you-are" strategy. On the plus side, Istanbul is very beautiful (well, parts of it) at night as well as in the day.

Getting back to the hostel, there was someone in my bed. Clearly not a girl, or i wouldn't be complaining. The manager was very helpful, sorting me a bed in the nightmanager room then sorting me a few beers. So a silver lining on that cloud too.

___________________________________________________________

Being in the nightmanager's room, i was not disturbed in my slumber, so i didn't wake til midday. While this meant I missed breakfast, I didn't feel I had grounds for lodging a complaint, and feeling well-rejuvenated set out for some victuals.

Hiked across Galata bridge,

visited Istanbul Modern

then walked along the foreshore towards the great big Bosphorus bridge.

I had a grand plan to walk across it to Asia, but having scaled the hill to the edge of the bridge,

i determined that the facilities for pedestrians were nonexistent. Oh well, Europe only for this trip (or so I thought...)

Chilled in the Dolmabahce Palace gardens then wandered back through the real city centre (as opposed to the tourist centre in Saltanahmet), Taksim, and went for a few quiet ones in a nice little lane off Istaklal.
It's an amazingly bustling city - as big and busy a central shopping district as London. Population estimates for Istanbul vary between 11 and 20+ million; I'd be inclined to say it's less than 15m but big in any case. I preferred the Taksim/Istaklal area to Sultanahmet as it was less touristy and less in-your-face, and a bit more real.

Headed back, watched Germany beat Portugal, then was cajoled into going out clubbing with the hostel manager and some of his mates, and two hapless 19yo Belgian girls who'd only just arrived and who were led to believe that their securing hostel beds for the night was contingent on their joining us, and being subsequently subject to vigorous attentions from all quarters - not mine though - i'm a gentleman.
___________________________________________________________

Missed brekky again. Had a turkish coffee at a tea garden, next to a cemetery - these are gravestones (i believe).

Strolled through Grand Bazaar,

past Suleyman mosque, to one of the less glamorous areas of the town,

which was interesting if unsettling. Navigating to the waterfront and across Galata bridge, headed to Dolmabahce palace, moseyed round gardens and went on palace tour. This is where the Sultan lived during the last 100 years of the Ottoman empire (a period of relative decadence and Western emulation), later Ataturk lived there also.

Strolled back through city to hostel,

had a kebab, watched Italy win the World Cup, then said my farewells to the hostel staff who were cool (I'll give the hostel a plug here: If you're staying in Istanbul, stay there)

I was a little bit complacent about getting to the airport. To my credit, i left plenty of time and booked the taxi beforehand and was all organised. To my detriment, I didn't actually check which of the two airports in Istanbul my flight departed from. I picked the big one on the European side: wrong answer.

On going through security, which one does on entering the front doors, I checked the Departures screen. No Easyjet Flight EJ616 to Basel. No Easyjet flights whatsoever. No Easyjet counter. Blood draining from head. Ran to Information Counter: given instructions to Istanbul Sabiha Gocken International Airport, a mere 70 kilometres (i.e. one 100 Turkish lira taxi fare) away. Ran to taxi rank, grabbed cab. Doesn't take credit card. Ran inside (through security again). Found cash machine. Australian debit card not accepted. UK debit card not accepted. Try to remember UK credit card PIN. Accepted. Grab cash. Run. Get in taxi. Time: 3:01am. Check-in closes: 3:55am. Ask driver "Can we make it?". He stares ahead, thinks for a second, nods determinedly. Pedal to the metal. 3:03 stop at petrol station. Is this really necessary? Look over at gauge: E. Yes - necessary. Right - we're off. Oh my god - he drove so f----g fast. We got there at 3:35, and that was after a several minute delay at a tollgate on one of the freeways. He drove at 165 kph through the middle of Istanbul. Ah well, who am i to question his tactics? Thanks to them, i made the flight.

Here i am with the nice couple from Tamworth I met in the checkin queue: they too had gone to the wrong airport and had a taxi cannonball run to make the flight. My taxi was faster than theirs.

____________________________________________________________

It was wonderful getting into Basel, despite my being pretty screwed from lack of sleep and the latenight airport antics. A big constrast to Turkey, one of the most notable aspects being the relative silence after the constant bustle of Istanbul streets. The Rhine was gorgeous:

Found my hostel, discovered a lot of the museums are closed on a Monday but, not too disheartened, set out to explore to the town, and pose like an idiot by the river.

Checked out the Cathedral

had some Swiss cheese (obligatory naff food joke photo, following up frankfurter in Frankfurt, hamburger in Hamburg, damn - forgot to eat a turkey in Istanbul...)

went to museum of the history of Basel (fascinating progression from mediaeval market town, ideally situated on Rhine and on trade routes between southern Germany, France, Italy and the lowlands, to global banking capital, home of the Bank of International Settlements: the central bankers' central bank)

checked out public art of Richard Serra and Jean Tinguely,

then went to Fondation Beyeler at Riehen. The building was designed by Renzo Piano and sits in a delightful garden, featuring a piece by Mark Di Suvero, the creator of Ik-ook in the NGA sculpture garden in Canberra.

Saw Matisse exhibition - curiously ended up liking Matisse less than before the exhibition (i think the lack of sleep had put me in a less receptive and more crotchetty mood - either that or Matisse was a jumped-up pompous lech whose work showed little or no creativity or progression for the entire period between his very early Fauve work and his cutouts - that's not my professional opinion though). The permanent collection there is brimming with Picasso, Mondrian, Giacometti, Impressionists, Klee etc., but seemed a little bit sterile - kind of ticking all the boxes of late 19c/early 20c "great art" without any real story. That said, it was still very good, especially the Klee, and probably not deserving of my tiredness-induced churlish rants.

Caught a bus over the German border, through the town of Weil am Rhein to admire the architecture of the Vitra Museum

There is a cool sculpture nearby: "Balancing Tools" by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen

Decided to enjoy the beautiful weather by walking back rather than catching the bus.
I was pretty excited to have walked across a national border - not something does often growing up in Oz, unless you really like walking, and have some large flotation-device shoes.

Took a detour to the north of the city, towards the French border, and strolled along the Rhine

There were lots of people out and about, enjoying the water and sunshine, so i decided to join them with a few quiet ones and a quick dip.

The current is pretty strong so I had to be careful. The swiss solution is to walk along the river a bit, put your shoes and dry clothes in a bag which is then sealed and inflated to make a big floaty which they hold onto as they drift back to their start point. It looks pretty fun.

Kicked back by the river, reading until the sun set,

then called it a night.
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I gorged myself at breakfast: 2 bowls of cereal, 6 cheese and sausage open sandwiches, 4 cups of coffee, 7 glasses of OJ. There was a big morning ahead of me, visiting a bunch of the museums that were closed yesterday, and i needed to be fully fuelled.

Waddled to the Kunstmuseum. Great general collection, particular features being Hodler, Bocklin, Klee,

rushed to Museum fur gegenwarte kunst

then to Tinguely museum. I was previously only slightly familiar with Jean Tinguely, a sculptor famous for large, elaborate, dynamic pieces which despite their machine-like qualities, tend to be fairly unfunctional, and capture remarkable human attributes.

This piece is so big that one can walk/climb over it, a spectacular experience when it is in operation, whirring, spinning, dinging, clanking all around you.

Sated, i ran back to hostel, only to discover that the reception was closed for the afternoon (with my drivers license in it) - oh crap. Managed to sweettalk one of the cooks into letting me in, and was on my way. Run up hill, tram to Hbf, bus to flughafen, then plane. Easy right? The run was the hardest bit.

Made it and just for one last bit of freakiness, bumped into one of my research-group-mates, Rafael, in the departure lounge.

For a trip of 12 days, of which 4 were weekend and 5 I could claim I'd been working (and I could write off another 2 for travel), i think i covered a fair bit of ground. 4 countries, 16 museums, 26 kebabs.

2006-09-08T00:51:00.000Z

Cambridge Summer Antics

The scanty thermal offerings of these pallid climes were received nonetheless with great joy and exaltation, and the arrival of plentiful light and relative warmth was celebrated far and wide with the baking of traditional Summer Fritatas:

Great revelry ensued; highlights addressed herein:

Pembroke Final BA dinner;

Downing Garden Party; Graham's Legendary May Bumps BBQ ;

Wyverns Garden party (no footage thankfully);

Pembroke June event;

Newnham MCR Garden Party;

Pembroke MCR Garden Party; and various smaller and less official affairs.

(which were handled with varying levels of decorum by attendees)

And then, just like that, the start-o'-summer social season was over, with livers sated, the undergrads scampered back to their provinces, the postgrads snuck off to their labs, homes, conferences or holidays, and the snapping tourists and braying american summerschool students reigned supreme over Cambridge. I went to Germany, but that, my friends, is a story for another post.

2006-05-30T01:16:00.000Z

Liverpool

My recent acquisition of a book entitled "Art Galleries of the World" has stimulated me to go further afield in order to tick a few more off. Liverpool being not too long a trainride away offered three more ticks in the book (if they're not in the book, they're not getting visited) and therefore warranted a visit. Kieran lived there for 2 years and was therefore an appropriate guide. We embarked on a sunny Friday afternoon.

After a brief bombthreat-related delay at Euston, with which K was somewhat bemused,

we were on our way, next stop: European Capital of Culture 2008.

Checked in to our hotel, we headed out to town, joined by a fellow backpacker, from Perth of all places, called Michael. After a few warm-up rounds with the assorted hordes of revellers, most of whom appeared to be on stag or hen nights, we headed to the waterfront in search of a slightly more discerning crowd.

The redeveloped waterfront is very nice: maintaining some of the old world charm of Liverpool's mercantile and industrial heritage, without all the pollution and filth.

The legendary superclub Cream closed its weekly event at Liverpool's Nation nightclub in 2002 (for debatable reasons, mainly associated with the decline of weekly "superclub" nights in favour of special event, tours and festivals); the Cream brand is still massive and utilised by its owners to promote festivals, clubnights, albums etc worldwide. There is now a bar at Albert Dock called BabyCream that "continues the legacy", i.e. maintains steady profit stream... Good fun despite my corporate cynicism.

_______________________________________________________

Up bright'n'early, and it was a beautiful day.

Moseyed by the Mersey;

visited Tate Liverpool (another crass attempt to extend profitability by exploiting a recognised brand :) - see discussion of cream above) - good exhibitions of Henry Moore and Robert Raschenberg though, and inn-ter-rest-ing exhib of Bruce Nauman.

This impressive Art Deco construction is in fact a chimney vent for the tunnel under the Mersey.

Waterside icons: the Liver birds on top of the Royal Liver Building and a statue outside the Port of Liverpool building.

Met some cool locals whilst waiting an inordinate time for our publunch.

I pity the fool who doesn't want to come to Reflex nightclub on their hens or bucks night after drinking 44 Seven Sins-themed novelty shots at the nearest funpub.

Albert Dock very pleasantly refurbished.

Umm, what can i say? The guy in the wheelchair obviously did something to offend somebody - and was sent to sleep with the muddy-mudskippers.

Classy name for a dance event. Where do i get tickets?

Out on the town (at Babycream again, as i recall)

I doubt that they party this hard, even at Scouse Nation...

________________________________________________________

Up at a civilised hour, courtesy of strange roomfellow at hostel who muttered continually to us and later himself (we could hear him through the bathroom door) "Breakfast til 9:30, and off to see the Town Hall and Concert Theatre

Walker Gallery - fab collection, especially of PreRaph and other victorian era painting.

Trained it out to Port Sunlight (one of the world's first "manufactured" towns, built by Lord Lever, who started a soap company (Sunlight Soap) which was the progenitor of Unilever, to house his employees). He built the Gallery as a memorial to his wife; his employees subsequently paid tribute to his enlightened industrial relations practices by erecting a memorial to him nearby.

The gallery was really good: big range of stuff, with highlights being topnotch Burn-Jones works.

This is the Superlambanana, a recent addition to the cityscape, courtesy of Japanese sculptor Taro Chiezo. There will no doubt be more public art installations as the city takes it crown as European Capital of Culture "Make Art Great in 08!"; it will be interesting to see how things develop over that time.

Sated, we headed back Sunday arvo; all the traipsing round art museums had finally put a smile on Kieran's face (that, or the fact that it was over...)

2006-05-29T23:46:00.000Z

I spend my whole life in London

My metropolophilic side is taking over: apart from the obligatory office time during the week (those sudokus don't solve themselves!) and a few trips to the gym for gun-sculpting, most of my life seems to be spent in the train to and from Olde London Towne. A general overview & certain highlights follow.

Trip to East End to MJs new digs:

Dinner in Hoxton. Kieran admits defeat at the hands of his fish.

Post dinner boogying (all in the one entertainment complex - mighty convenient!)

Taxi discourtesies

Bar fun in Battersea

Sprang up for a bit of Borough markets, and a trip to the London dungeon... funny, but probably not worth the effort, to be quite honest.

Seeking cultural redemption, went to Tate Modern to drink wine and coffee on the balcony for 90 minutes and look at paintings for 15.

Snuck back to Cambridge and was dragged kicking and screaming to the Pickerel and so on and so forth...

Had a bit of an incident on my bicycle the following week:

And here we are the next day, where we can see some fine scab formation and an increased swelling of the upper lip, trout-pout style.

Not one to be held back ny a few injuries, met up with Dad and Amanda in South Ken the next weekend. Tate Modern with Dad - Albers & Moholy-Nagy exhibition again.

Moseyed past Hanover Square, as featured in "Mr Norrell and Johnathan Strange",

on way to drinks with KnA, for their friend Nishali's birthday - it was a dress-up and I went as Charlie Chaplin.

British Museum to see Rosetta Stone, Mexican carvings, marbles, mummies, etc

Surrealism exhibition at Hayward Gallery focussed around the publishing efforts of one Georges Bataille. Then to dinner with KnA - a bloody impressive bangers'n'mash, might i add.

Next weekend, dinner with Dad and Amanda in SK, out for drinx with Ant to celebrate his end-of-work in Pimlico. Modernism exhibition at V&A museum - very very good exhibition! Saw Blue Man Group. Out to Garlic and Shots in Soho. Run round Kensington Gardens next morning. Visit to Queen's Gallery.

Next trip down: Saw Hybrid DJ with KnA at Inigo.

Next trip down: Talk at Chicago GSB, then dinner with Tam and Ben.

Next trip down: Job interview & Constable exhibition at Tate Britain

Next trip down, some weeks later:Dinner with Tam & Ben

then Summer Exhibition at Royal Academy

Also saw Modigliani exhibition. Here's the amazing Damien Hirst sculpture in the forecourt:

Pierre Huyghe and Kandinsky exhibitions at Tate Mod with MJ. (I got busted for taking this shot...)

Managed to sprain my ankle on Piccadilly near the RA (see, art appreciation is an extreme sport) and thus spent entire next day lolling on MJs couch. My one amusement in convalescence was seeing Kieran mid-haircut (sorry K - i just had to post this) - suffice to say he looked much better once the job was finished.

Quick trip down for job interview & visit to Museum of London - very interesting history of the city with lots and lots of maps.

Went down the next weekend with Cousin Emma and her boyfriend Ben.

Here they express their professional aspirations of one day performing at Wigmore Hall:

Wallace collection for Rococo art and, more importantly, dress-ups:

Lunch at Hyde Park

Outside Buckingham Palace

Reading from the scriptures of Secret London on Cleopatra's Needle:

Tower of London:
Tower Bridge

As if that wasn't enough, we also squeezed in a beer at Bankside, a visit to the Tate Modern, dinner at Southbank, and not one but two bottles of wine on the train back to Cam. After all that busy-ness, we needed to wind down with a quiet drink in a quiet bar,

followed by a light supper.

Two weeks later: summer exhib at RA again, Constable at Tate Britain again, Kandinsky at Tate Modern again, Kokoschka at Courtald Institute and "Rebels and Martyrs" at National Gallery. I won't bore you with jpgs of paintings - you can look them up on relevant websites if you're really keen.

So, in conclusion, a lot of trips to London, a lot of art exhibitions, a fair bit of carousing.

2006-05-11T00:57:00.000Z

Los Tigres en Espana

This weekend was prophetically laid out by Senor Clowntana in his invitational email in March. Photos and comments attest to the uncanny accuracy of his original predictions (which are italicised).

Gentlemen,

A mission has fallen upon you: conquering the north of Spain in a 48 hour escapade. I have mentioned it to you four at some point or another that we could make a brief incursion into Spain. The attacking plan is pretty hardcoreand very little sleeping will be involved. Baseline is:

Friday: we arrive at Vitoria at 4ish. A friend of mine is reopening a gastronomic society that night in Pamplona, you can imagine what this will entail. Before dinner we can have a wander around Vitoria and then drive to Pamplona with a friend or go straight to Pamplona. Accommodation for that night is unsorted, which means we’ll sleep wherever we can.

Check-in at Stansted.

A welcome to Spain by one of it's most upstanding and accomplished ambassadors.

Welcome to sunny spain.

The party team.

Museo de Bellas Artes, Vitoria. Saw some very nice Goya etchings there as well as some good local paintings.

Geddit?? Museum of Arms!

Interesting approach to drying one's washing.

Town square, Vittoria-Gasteiz.

Pintxos.

Dinner, Pamplona.

Partaking in the local traditions...

Tigers.

Making lots of new friends - this is shortly before I reviewed my drinking levels (and my dinner hahaha) in the bathroom.

Saturday: get to San Sebastian early and see the town. It’s beautifuland we’ll go for proper tapas and a bit of beach if it’s sunny. That night accommodation is sorted at a couple of friends’ dwellings and if we’re not feeling destroyed from the previous night I think we should experience a typical cider restaurant and local taverns. There is also a famous outdoor museum by Chillida which you might want to visit and several cultural sites with gorgeous views.

Well we did get to SS pretty early after a curious series of events involving, amongst other things, a sausage, a nonexistent plate of Poulpe a la Galicia, some local constabulary and a liberal approach to seatbelt usage. Anyway, we got there and that's the main thing.

Out and about in SS.

Funiculare.

View over San Sebastian harbour.

Coooool rock formation!

Chillida sculptures.

Pondering the art, as I like to do from time to time.

Baroque church

Pintxos bar #1

Beach at night

Getting our feet wet as the wave came in.

Contestants, Bachelor of the Year, Regional finals, San Sebastian.

Bar #3.

Bar #4.

Some poor innocent fitties who happened to grab the sordid attentions of Ben and Stas... and my camera.
Hmmm, not quite so spectacular. The highlights are near my chin.

Iggy dancing like nobody's watching.

Nightclub (establishment #6 - arrival time 4:15 am; spain rocks so much more than england).

Sunday: if we have time we can finish seeing a few bits of San Sebastian or just catch a bus straight to Bilbao. I don’t know that city very well, but we can walk around the main parts and visit the Guggenheim – cultural icon of our time, according to Matt. Then head to the airport and die…

Even after our big night, we were up at the crack of dawn to make the most of our last day in Spain.

Time for a bit of breakfast - why not enjoy it at a roadside cafe, or just on the side of the road, in the gutter.

This is one good bocadillos.

Ready to depart San Sebastian.

Navigational deliberations in Bilbao.

The Guggenheim!

Jeff Koons 'Puppy'

Senor Tigre is excited!

Bounding down the stairs with art-inspired joy and enthusiasm.
The Russia! exhibition was really good. We made it to the airport on time and, despite them being significantly larger than the handluggage limit, didn't have to check our livers into the hold. Bit of pintxos, bit of art, bit of history, bit of culture, bit of bread, bit of sauce: all in all a rocking weekend!

2006-05-11T00:43:00.000Z

London XV

Kylie and Anthony's housewarming drew me Londonward once again and, never one to pass up an opportunity, I got out and about. First stop photographers gallery,

moseyed past concert on at Trafalgar Square,

strolled along the Victoria Embankment

then to Hermitage Rooms to see exhibition of Byzantine art, thesis being that the Byzantines carried the classical tradition through the otherwise dark ages while the rest of Europe descended into pagansim, looting and chaos. Went to Tate Modern to see Albers and Moholy-Nagy exhibition.

It was fascinating - they both had such a huge influence on modernism, and everything that that has entailed and affected, especially design and layout of things like ads, posters, furniture, appliances, logos etc.

Headed to KnAs for their "H is for Housewarming" party. I went as Hermes

It was a good theme that managed to lure out a harpy, horny housewife, Hugh Hefner, the Hulk, hula girl, a ho, some hippies and Hannah (Daryl, from Kill Bill 2 - cryptic...) - good work team!

Even the dude at the convenience store got into it, offering his Hand.

Woke feeling undeservedly OK, brekky w MJ then walked through Battersea and along Thames. Went to Gothic nightmares exhibition again at Tate Britain twice (already given my two cents worth on that one...). Stopped at Audley End house on the way home. Situated on the Cam, upriver from the bridge, it used to be a royal palace and has been an ancestral home of the Audleys, Suffolks, Braybrookes since it was first built in the 1600s.

The gardens were designed by Lancelot 'Capability' Brown, so nicknamed due to his habit of telling clients that their gardens had "great capabilities" - an inspiration to gardeners, real-estate agents and advertising copywrighters the world over. His approach involved "the utmost care to give the impression of a romantic natural scene. Everything was meticulously contrived to give a sense of informality, of natural beauty, though of course nothing in the garden was natural at all." One could cynical but it does look good.

All very bucolic and historic. Interestingly, the Temple of Concord, on the hill overlooking the house and gardens was built to celebrate George III's recovery from his first attack of insanity. It was recently discovered that his madness stemmed from porphyria, triggered late in his life by high arsenic concentrations in his blood. Of further interest is the fact that he started the Royal Academy which I visited in the last installment of my blog. What fascinating turns my life takes...

2006-05-11T00:27:00.000Z

Back in Britain

Having recovered amazingly quickly from the flights back, I threw myself with gusto back into life in Cambridge. My officemate, Victoria's birthday was that night, so for a present we got her a book, "Freakonomics" by Stephen Levitt (he has a cool blog), which i read that afternoon to make sure it was OK. It was. The party was a corker too.

Went to London next day to have a quick look at London marathon, catch up with MJ & go to the Royal Academy,

to see the Jacob Ruisdael exhibition. Which was excellent. He was a really seminal painter of landscapes, who paved the way for the Constables, Corots and Monets who fully explored the possibilities of the genre.

2006-05-10T22:22:00.000Z

Japan & Australia & Japan

It turned out, when booking a flight to Australia, that the best deal i could get involved flying via Japan.

Arriving at Kansai, I had a few hours between flights & managed to get out of customs giving me an afternoon in Japan that I hadn't really been expecting - quite a surreal inclusion in the journey!

It wasn't worth travelling all the way into Osaka in the time I had so I trained it to a town called Kishiwada where I was told I could see a castle. Moseyed around checking out the town and port areas,

It was cherry blossom season.

They're pretty big on cutesy imagery in the pokemon, hello kitty style. Even the rubbish is cutesy.

Kishiwada Castle was really cool.

It was built in 1334 by Wada, one of Masashige Kusunoki's clan, and was the base for Nobukatsu Okabe, whose regime lasted for 13 generations until the Meiji era.

It was also known as Ibuseyama-Chikiri castle for its alleged resemblance to a chikiri, a tool used to warp wind.
The original castle was burnt down in the 1800s and a smaller version rebuilt on the same site, though i guess the moat and island structure is original.
There was a cherry blossom festival on with food stalls and lanterns and whatnot, which was cool to wander around.

Lots of people gather in the evenings to enjoy the cherry blossoms and have a meal together.

Had some amazing grilled molluscs - very tasty and tender!

I was pretty whacked after staying up during my flight redoing all the algebra from our paper so i had a few moments quiet repose by the moat before going forth on my mission to buy some beer from a vending machine, one of the hallmarks of Japan's advanced civilisation.

I couldn't find any beer vending machines, though there were plenty selling cigarettes and some selling Bubble Man!,

but thankfully the supermarket was open, so i could trundle out the few remaining skerricks of my five hard years of Nihongo studies. Wakaramishita ka? Iie. Shitsurei shimashita.

Fortunately the international language of commerce is easier to participate in.

Went for a bit more of a stroll, checked out a temple,

and zipped back to airport.

A litre of Asahi had me on the way - subsequent enthusiastically-received complimentary Kirin Ichibans on top of existing exhaustion was enough to knock me out real good for most of the flight - having three seats was very helpful - so i felt reasonably ok flying into Brissy

for extra inconvenient stopover before last leg to Sydney. I must say i was relieved to note excellent weather and I even got a bit choked up seeing the harbour bridge and opera house and so on. Into Surry Hills and straight to Boy Charlton pool for much-needed sunshine.

then to the old fave, AGNSW, for the Archibald & Wynne prize exhibition.

Emailed back to UK the fruits of my plane-flight algebra labours then Reggios pizza for dinner. A fantastic return to Sydney.

Returned to AGNSW for Self-portrait exhibition, then lunch with Mark & family & caught up with Maddy, Grant & Rebecca in Newtown in the evening.

Busy week: presentation at UNSW, Brett's birthday, mussels at bungalow 8, revisit of old dining staple - the great $5 steak, visit to MCA.

Then off to Melbourne, to see Mama, Mum and Paul for Easter. Went to Melbourne Museum,

(this is me and the commonwealth games mascot, Kaku)

Pissaro exhibition at NGV International,

HMS Cerberus

(check out this totally gross foam - boy did we have some fun rolling around in that!)

(Victorian weather less reassuringly Australian than New South Welsh)

saw cousins Kate & Molly,

NGV Australia

and the old favourite, Charmaignes Ice Cream (but only cos we'd been good little boys).

It was really good to see Mum and Mama and moderately good to see Paul (i'd seen him more recently, you see, which mitigated our respective enthusiams)

Back to Sydney for one quick day about town,

went to S.H. Ervin gallery and MCA,

and wandered around Rocks snapping away at cliched icons (below, not above, sure - we're icons but we are never cliched).

then like that my time was over. Flew back via Japan again. This time I had an overnight stay, though this was at a hotel at Kansai airport which wasn't quite as authentic and amazing as Kishiwada. Still, I managed to down a few Asahis, scored a dinner that looked a little something like this:

(compare the price with that for room service - what an outrage)

and lived out the vending machine beer dream!

Here's my obligatory mispronunciation/translation joke photo.

I had a good time in Japan and it really fired up my enthusiasm for travelling there again, next time for a fair bit longer - maybe I can tie it in with a side-trip to Itary.

2006-04-24T13:58:00.000Z

London XIV

Went to London because I just don't get down there enough, and when I do I don't get as much done as I'd like to. First stop, National Gallery to see Mary Cassatt exhibition,

and new Adolph Menzel acquisition,

and to have a bit of a look at the 18c French and Italian paintings, in order to get fired up for the Tiepolo exhibition at Courtald.

Walked there along Embankment,

The rain most considerately stopped, then sun came out and i could feel my Seasonal Affective Disorder just wafting away.

Checked out Tiepolo oil sketches,

This one is a study for the mighty Banquet of Cleopatra, for which Melbourne owes a debt of thanks to the Bolshevik revolution for delivering so economically to our tyrannically distant shores. The study was not quite as breathtaking, being about 500 times smaller than the real thing but nicely evocative nonetheless.

Walked to Tate Modern past Temple, literally revelling in the sunshine,

sat on balcony which was most charming, then had a look at Martin Kippenberger exhibition.

Quite a mixed bag there, from sketchings and doodlings to really dramatic paintings, often kitschily so to use an appropriately Teutonic term, to full room installations. Very playful, often extremely witty, frequently quite thought-provoking, though one could see why he copped a fair bit of criticism in his time. A personal favourite achievement of Mr Kippenberger's was: METRO-Net, a fictitious subway system for which Kippenberger built entrances, exits and ventilation shafts in the Yukon, Leipzig and a field on the Greek island Syros. Good stuff. Makes putting a shark in formalin look pretty pedestrian.

Went to Clapham to meet up with KnA and their housemates Neil and Kirsten who were being farewelled on their trip back to Oz via America.

They're now underway on a mighty North American odyssey which they're documenting here.

Met up with Tam for breakfast then to Tate Britain for another, proper (ie. more than 25 minutes) visit to Gothic Nightmares exhibition.

This was voted Best Painting of a Fit Guy done in the olden days.

It was a really good exhibition, with influences ranging from the Bible and classical mythology, through Norse myths, folklore, medieaval history (often via Shakespeare), others of Shakespeare's comedies and tragedies, contemporary politics (Napoleon = bad, Nelson & Wellington = good) and society, esp. the changing attitudes to religion, superstition and sexuality. Blake is the greatest and most original artistic visionary ever to spring forth from this sceptr'd isle.

Having established that, we went to Hammersmith to attempt to see the Oxford-Cambridge boatrace, which we almost achieved (kinda like Cambridge almost won); nonetheless we partook of the nautical/carnival atmosphere.

Saw the evening out in style in Clapham & Battersea, and ambled straight into work the next morning.

2006-03-31T19:03:00.000Z

London XIII

Went to the Gothic Nightmares exhibition at Tate Britain, to see a bit of Fuseli,

William Blake

and others. I was particularly drawn to the references to Nordic and Germanic mythology which makes a nice change from the Greek and Roman references one typically encounters at such events. This particular tale comes from the Nibelungenlied, which you may recall was referred to in the context of Rhenish legends:

"The Burgundian king Gunther has just celebrated his marriage to the icily sexy Brunhild. But while he expected a night of passion, the new queen wrestles him into submission, binds his hands and feet and leaves him hanging from the ceiling so she can sleep undisturbed."

Treat em mean, keep em keen.

Went to MJ's for a dinner party, which featured a disturbingly high percentage of Australians, but all lovely folk.

Here Ben wows the ladies with another tale of derring-do from the world of strategy consulting.

As you can see, a top night all round. Massive respect and shout-outs to MJ, the organiser,

Stef and Kieran, first lieutenants in charge of cooking and cleaning up respectively,

and to the humorous yet entirely tasteful performers from the cabaret troupe who delighted the assembled throng with an interpretative dance to the rousing strains of John Philip Sousa's Glory of the Yankee Navy.

What a show!!

2006-03-31T19:00:00.000Z

Grantchester

Went for a stroll during the week around Grantchester.

That's where Rupert Brook and Virginia Woolf and and co. used to hang out and do poetry and novels and stuff, so it was only appropriate that i waxed lyrical for a moment

The Cam was being almost as reflective as I:

Stepping out in style:

Sky starting to look a bit summery again - hoo-freakin-ray, not before time.

A very pleasant way to break up an otherwise slightly monotonously ABAQUS-dominated week.

2006-03-31T18:53:00.000Z

London XII

After several recreational evenings, in honour of the end of Lent term,

i felt it appropriate to purify my soul with some fine art.

It was a beautiful day in Marylebone as i strolled toward the the Wallace Collection

There i saw the Great British Watercolours exhibition, and an exhibition on the Marquesses and Marchionesses of Hertford who built the collection and endowed it to the state. For people who had so many affairs and consequently produced so many illegitimate children, they had excellent taste in art.

Went to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is incredible and very eclectic: a real kunstkammer.

Here is the plaster room, filled with lifesize replicas of major works around the world, including Trajan's Column and Michaelangelo's David. Back in the olden days, before £5 Ryanair flights to Ciampino, this was ofen the only opportunity for art students to admire these classical pieces.

Although they are currently an anachronistic curiosity, when all the oil runs out in 50 years and air travel becomes prohibitively expensive, they will be useful again.

Had a few beers and a curry in Soho with Mr Ben Woffenden before heading home.

2006-03-14T12:30:00.000Z

Busy times

Monday: Had some of the micromechanics crew over for a bit of a Mexican fiesta.

Tuesday: Dinner at Sidney Sussex college.

Wednesday: Went to a talk by the Rt. Hon. Michael Meacher MP. He is not the most credible source around; was given the boot from his position as Minister for the Environment partly due his position on GM food and has also been involved in what might be described as non-sustainable, and what are certainly hypocritical, property ownership practices.

The general gist was along these lines:
The world faces a stark choice. It can continue down the existing path of rising oil consumption, trying to pre-empt available remaining oil supplies, if necessary by military force, but without avoiding a steady exhaustion of global capacity. Or it could switch to renewable sources of energy, much more stringent standards of energy efficiency, and a steady reduction in oil use. The latter course would involve huge new investment in energy generation and transportation technologies. [From here]

I don't really agree with his views on nuclear power, but it was an interesting talk nonetheless.

Friday: Dad came to town. Had a beer at the Anchor, where we learnt Syd Barrett (real name Roger Keith Barrett) used to drink and listen to jazz before forming Pink Floyd.

Went to Sandra's birthday party after dinner, to see her distinguish herself generally.

Saturday: Had lunch with the Master and Fellows of Pembroke College, as a token of their gratitude for our efforts as supervisers. Then went to London for a few drinks with MJ, Kieran, Stef and Shaun and co.

Caught the train back from Liverpool St,

Met a very amusing random fellow:

Sunday: Cooked up a big breakfast then headed to National Gallery for Americans in Paris exhibition.

Checked out St Patrick's Day festival in Trafalgar Square. Wished I had some Irish ancestry.

Met up with K'n'A for dinner and to check out their new place before returning home.

Busy times indeed.

2006-03-14T11:19:00.000Z

Overland to Essex

Inspired by the marked improvement in the weather, I gave my new bike it's first proper outing.

The weather was gorgeous, making the farmland particularly bucolic.

Crossing the border into Essex, the landscape gets a bit more hilly. Compared with the super-flatness of Cambridgeshire and the fens, this doesn't necessarily say much, but it was hilly enough to give my flabby unconditioned legs a bit of a workout. Made it to Saffron Walden, a really cute smallish town in Essex, and checked out the St Mary and the Virgin church which dates back to the end of the 15th century.

Headed back to Cambridge, racing the fading light. Following the main road, i was guided back into town via Shelford and Trumpington, with my final route as follows, totalling something upward of 30 miles.

2006-02-26T20:52:00.000Z

London 9

The ninth and latest installment in Matthew's Trips to London was brief yet action-packed, motivated by an overwhelming desire to make the most of my life before it slips away from me, day by precious day. After a quick morning meeting at the office - yeah, that's right, on a Saturday, pretty dedicated, aren't I? - i jumped on the train and made a beeline for the British Museum. It, along with the V+A, is one of my few as-yet-unrealised touristic aims in London, and i felt the situation ought to be redressed.

Unfortunately in my excitement to get into the office for a meeting, i neglected to pack my camera, so I will have to resort to long, tedious descriptions of everything I saw (along with copywright-infringing images from other people's websites) in order to properly document my activities for the day. Here's a photo i prepared earlier when i walked past the museum one time.

It was closed then, but fortuitously open when i went this time; the empty forecourt pictured was in fact teeming with tourists. The British Museum, as many will know, has an incredibly profilic collection so that one would struggle to see all the pieces on display (a small subset of the total collection) in one visit. I did the obligatory ones: the Rosetta Stone, the Egyptian mummies and the Elgin (Parthenon) marbles. The last of these is a great source of controversy as Greece feels that they should be returned. Several arguments against this are usually given: the artifacts have been looked after better at BM (though there are claims that this isn't necessarily the case), that it is better to present these works alongside others from other cultures, etc. Furthermore, the BM itself states ,"the restitutionist premise, that whatever was made in a country must return to an original geographical site, would empty both the British Museum and the other great museums of the world". The marbles are nice but they are not nearly as spectacular (and accordingly represent a less significant act of looting) as, for example, the Zeus Altar taken from Pergamon in Turkey to Berlin in the 1880s, which is also a source of contention.

For my two cents worth: Sorry but bad luck. Greece wasn't even a country when Lord Elgin took the marbles. The Ottomans, who were in power there at the time (until Britain, France and Russia stepped in to help Greece gain independence), were happy to let them go. Empires have looted each other like crazy for millenia, taking whatever they could get their hands on. Just as the Pergamon Altar and the museums built in Berlin to accomodate it and other such artifacts became a monument to Prussian then German nationalism, the Pergamon marbles have been in, and become a part of, Britain for two centuries. At what point in history should the line be drawn between actions that are part of history and cannot be reversed, and those which should be reversed ie. revised?

Controversy aside, my favourites at the British Museum were the Assyrian gates, the marbles from Halicarnassus, the Andean costumes in the special exhibition on Living and Dying and the Enlightenment exhibition. Definitely worth a return visit.

Having done the ancient thing, i went to get a bit of the modern, at the Dan Flavin retrospective at the Hayward Gallery.

Went to the Tate Modern to make the most of my membership by sitting in the Member's Room, drinking lattes, eating olives and feeling really special and exclusive. Also had a look at the Martin Kippenberger exhibition but was flagging by this stage so will have to go back again before i can make any judgements. Wandered through the main collection and sat through a film by Markus Schinwald entitled dictio pii that, despite the haunting ambient soundtrack music that i really liked, was a touch disturbing, especially once the narrated monologue ("We are the perfume of corridors, unfamiliarized with isolated activity, ... blahblahblah for another two and a half minutes,... tortured geometries, unsyncopated energies, blahblah... , we are deranged") had been repeated five times. Remarkably spooky characters.

Back to Cam for a few quiet ones and called it a day. A busy and tiring yet ultimately satisfying day.

2006-02-16T01:24:00.000Z

London & Bristol

Scurried down to London for Kylie's birthday party on a Friday night.
Met up with the lovely MJ and the lovely Paul and headed to Clapham for a bit of the usual shenanigans, spurred on by cachaça warm-up rounds at MJs:

Here's the birthday girl:

Home via Chicken Cottage (Clapham Brick Lane curry for me):

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Up bright and early the following morning, had the remainder of the curry for breakfast and hit the road. We diverged at Victoria: MJ south to Brighton and I west to Bristol - twas a teary farewell I assure thee.

No sooner than i'd finished the Review section of the Guardian, i arrived at Bristol Temple Meads, then bussed into town. After some confusion related in part to Tim's unfamiliarity with his adopted home city and in bigger part to my general incompetence regarding public transport, maps, directions and instructions, we were eventually united. Joyfully so.

Had a look around the waterfront and the Arnolfini, a contemporary art space on the docks.

Up the hill to the City Museum & Art Gallery

There was a touring exhibition on from the National Gallery entitled Passion for Paint. Tim was really impressed at my correct identification of a painting as a Rubens,

though the works of Ian Davenport

and Raqib Shaw were more to his taste.

The permanent collection featured a lot of Victorian stuff as well as a fair bit of earlier Dutch & Italian work, results of Bristol's relatively early prosperity as compared with other British cities like Liverpool, Cardiff and Manchester.

Arted out, we passed by the Royal West of England Academy and continued toward Tim's house,

then headed out to see the Clifton Suspension Bridge, designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel at the ripe old age of 23.

Reflecting on our own engineering achievements by that age, predicting crack-growth in pieces of ceramic and computer modelling of car suspensions seem a touch unheroic. Reminded ourselves reassuringly that engineering was easier back then cos they didn't have to waste time with computers and safety guidelines and stuff.

Back to Tim's for a fine Thai prawn & pineapple curry, courtesy of him, washed down with a couple of cold ones. While intentions to go out on the town had been voiced, our discussions on the aerospace industry, declinology, the Byzantine empire, the burgeoning breakcore and dubstep scenes, how utterly unbearable the weather is in England, the inevitable complications associated with romantically-related activities, production of electronic music, Brunel and the Great Eastern, formalising and codifying of language, quantum mechanical explanations in neuroscience and so-on-and-so-forth, lasted sufficiently long, to the tune of 10 beers each, that, at at their conclusion, it was deemed time to go to bed.
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Woke up next to a boa constrictor the next morning,

It, along with python, is the pet of Tim's housemate, and was thankfully still contained in its terrarium. Went out to get some brekky. Walked through the University of Bristol,

admiring the grandeur of their physics department - even grander than UWA's which mind you is the tallest building on the campus and a fine example of concrete nouveau.

Had a lookee at the Red Lodge, which i'm told is where Queen Elizabeth used to stay when she visited Bristol. It was built in 16c and has been variously renovated and modified since.

The south-facing, walled garden exemplifies a re-creation of an Elizabethan-style knot garden with herbaceous borders, circa 1630.

The house had been used for charitable purposes in the Victorian era,

which provoked us to reflect on how many young girls we ourselves had rescued from sin and misery, and brought back to the paths of holiness. Not many.

Walked south, around the town centre,

and crossed the river,

on our way to the British Empire and Commonwealth Museum.

A fine display of the historical, political, economic and cultural aspects of Britain's hegemony over most of the world. Still as post-colonial reverse migrants, these issues are close to home.
One of the rooms, allegedly the work of the great Brunel, was somewhat less inspiring than the Clifton Suspension Bridge.Had a few pints at The Reckless Engineer, apparently yet another celebratory allusion to Brunel, Bristol's favourite (adopted, he was born in Portsmouth) son,
then bade Tim, Bristol's second favourite adopted son, farewell,

and at 6:15 began the mission home, which finally ended at about 12:45, coinciding nicely with my sobering up. The monotony of transit was ameliorated by further reflections on the British empire theme courtesy of Niall Ferguson's fine book "Empire". Top trip.

2006-02-01T21:37:00.000Z

Back in Britain

The Big Trip concluded for me, though Maarinke continued her Really Big Trip, with safe arrival back at Stansted and return to Cambridge. My box of posters, however, continued their train trip to Birmingham, where they dematerialised - I am an idiot and the train lost property services are not worth the paper their number was dutifully copied onto during my futile efforts to regain the posters. The Evil Train to Birmingham, from whose clutches I had narrowly escaped on my outward journey, finally got its revenge.

Maarinke spent a couple of days in Cambridge, where i introduced her to the joys of drinking warm ale, curry houses and the hallowed inner sanctum of the Pembroke graduate parlour, before venturing further north, leaving me to make a start on the year's work at the office.

Still all amped up about art and travel and stuff, i went to London that Saturday to catch the last day of the Derain exhibition at the Courtald Institute. First stop, though, was Lincoln's Inn Fields,

site of the Sir John Soane's Museum,

That is a real gem, definitely worth visiting if you're in London. John Soane was Professor of Architecture at the Royal Academy and architect of the Bank of England, Number 10 Downing Street and the Dulwich College Art Gallery, and is now regarded as a progressive and influential architect in the context of the neoclassical style. His house, which is packed to the rafters with antiquities and artifacts, paintings (esp. Hogarth's 'Rake's Progress') and Soane's own architectural and furniture designs, was opened as a museum during his lifetime and has been maintained in that state since. It rocks.

Moseyed south toward the Strand, pausing for a patriotic moment outside Australia House,

then, blinking back appropriately patriotic tears and humming "I still call Australia home", on to Somerset House, where an ice-rink has been set-up,

I wasn't there for frivolities like ice-skating so i marched purposefully into the Courtald Collection, flashed my academic staff member card: free entry - yes!!! (consolation for my choice to pursue the ascetic, almost monastic lifestyle of the academic) and charged in to see the Derain exhibition. Comprised of his paintings of London from 1906, when his Fauvish tendencies were in full effect, it provided an interesting counterpoint to the, probably more famous, London paintings of Monet.

It was real good. Also good to check out the collection there of Kandinskys, Jawlenskys, Mackes and Munters, given i had become a (self-proclaimed) expert in Expressionism whilst in Germany.

Went over to the Hermitage Rooms to have a look at an exhibition of watercolours entitled Gainsborough to Turner: British Watercolours from the Spooner Collection. That was very good also, and allowed me to reminisce on my recent tour:

This is Turner's painting of Drachanfels - remember that from my last post? It was the mountain next to the Rhine near Bonn where the dragon lived, the one that Siegfried (remember him? that's right, he was the hero of the Nibelunglied, on which Wagner's Ring Cycle was based, good, you were paying attention) slayed.

This is Cozens' picture of Castel Sant Angelo in Rome, which we saw when we were there. Naturally, i loudly pointed out to most of the other people in the room that "yeah, i've just been in Rome actually and seen that, yeah, just this month, looks even better in real life, went to Munich as well actually, and Florence." They applauded dutifully.

Went outside to get comparison of real Thames and surrounds with Derain's efforts.

Yep, London, if not looking quite like Derain's paintings, was looking good. It's a shame this shot was ruined by an idiot getting in the way just as the camera went off.

Still full of enthusiasm, i went to the Gilbert Collection to have a look at some Russian Avant-Garde photography,

a recent montage of Yorkshire landscapes by David Hockney

and some micromosaics.

A diverse selection indeed. Met Kylie and Anthony at Covent Garden and had a bit of high tea at the third oldest fish and chip shop in London, followed by a few beers then headed back to Cam and my aforementioned monastic existence there.

Met Maarinke in London the following week (what she did in the mean time shall remain a mystery until she starts her own blog), for her final day in England. Having sustained ourselves with pasties, we strolled from Waterloo down the Thames

to Tate Britain,

had a look there at the Pre-Raphaelites et al, then caught the Tate Boat,

(We were pretty excited)

all the way to Tate Modern, to have a quick look at Rousseau and some of the recently recurated main collection.

Dinner with Kylie & Anthony and MJ & Kieran in Clapham, then beddybyes. Saw Maarinke off the following day, after an heroic but unsuccessful attempt to consume a celebratory Australia Day beer with M's friend Joel (thanks a lot Walkabout Covent Garden, you pricks, for the false advertising regarding opening times), then scampered back to Cambridge to teach dynamics to second years (having taught it to myself on the train). After six weeks and seven countries, Maarinke returned to beautiful, sunny, summery, warm Sydney and i stayed here in the rain. I remain ambivalent on the virtues of sacrificing climate for career.

2006-02-01T21:35:00.000Z

The Big Trip
Part 4: Bonn

Maarinke's aunt & uncle met us at Bonn/Cologne (French for good smell? - thanks for the gag, Dad) airport and the final leg of our tour commenced. Through a most fortuitous set of circumstances, our accomodation was slightly more upmarket than the backpackers hostels to which we had become accustomed, starting with the view from the window over the Rhine.

We strolled from Lis and Joachim's house around the centre of Bonn. It was the capital of West Germany until reunification. While the parliament moved to Berlin almost straight away, many of the ministry offices have remained in Bonn and there has been significant private sector investment so that, rather than decline into something of a ghost town as could have occured, it has remained a bustling city. Before becoming the West German capital, it was a relatively prosperous town that at one stage was the capital of the principality of Cologne. It has a big, prestigious university and was, amongst other things, the birthplace of Beethoven.

He is celebrated with a statue in the town square,

and his house is now a museum,

Preparations were already afoot for the annual Carnival, a traditional celebration over the lent period, which apparently involves liberal use of amusing costumes.

We were introduced to Bonnsch beer, consumed in much smaller glasses than in Bavaria - so that the beer doesn't warm up before one finishes drinking it, and cuisine - hearty, meat-dominated, best appreciated after at least 8 of the aforementioned Bonnsch beer.
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The next day, we travelled south along the Rhine, to see castles and vineyards and cliffs.
My previous experience of the Rhineland, a train ride from Cologne to Frankfurt in 2004, had been severely hampered by the aftereffects of an over-ambitious beer tasting session (52 beers tasted) on the last night of a conference in Leuven, Belgium, so i was looking forward to the twin benefits of a functioning brain and expert local guides. We drove south from North Rhine-Westphalia to Rhineland-Palatinate, crossed the Moselle at Koblenz, then stopped off in Bacharach to have a look at the coolest youth hostel I've ever seen, the Jugendherberge Stahleck, which is a castle on the edge of the cliff.

The view was amazing, though with windchill factor it was probably about 10 below, well outside my comfort zone.

Reaching Bingen, we crossed the river on a ferry on our way to see the Germania monument.

Heeding the warnings, the car was returned safely to terra firma.

Having fortified ourselves with hot chocolates and hefty servings of torte in Rudesheim, we headed up the hill, above the snowline,

to see Germania from close-up. Actually called the Niederwald Monument (of Germania, the symbol of German nationhood...), it was built in the 1870's to commemorate the unification of the German nation (cf. Vittorio Emmanuel monument in Roma) and as a bit of an up-yours to the French who had been soundly spanked in the Franco-Prussian war (Deutsch-Französischer Krieg), most of which was fought southwest of the site of the monument.

Whilst the monument is regarded as being a bit anachronistic in a symbolic sense, it looks cool and the view is good.

Back down the hill,

we continued along the Rhine past the Lorelei, the treacherous rocks onto which sailors have been tempted for centuries by sirens, and made famous by Heine's poem.

...She combs with a comb that is golden, And sings a weird refrain; That steeps in a deadly enchantment The listener's ravished brain...

The Nibelung hoard (of Wagner's Ring Cycle fame) is also, according to legend, buried under there. On the topic of Nibelungs, Siegfried a hero of the Nibelungenlied, the 'German Iliad', was supposed to have slayed a dragon living in a mountain near Bonn, called Drachenfels, that we had driven past that morning.

Returning to Bonn, we exchanged castles, romantic monuments and historical tales for the trappings of a modern capital,

and a tasty dinner at Lis and Joachim's house

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A marked improvement in the weather the following morning enabled the view from the hotel room to be appreciated properly:

The aim for the day was for Maarinke to become acquainted with her Dutch roots with a quick trip to Holland. Driving west, a discernible flattening of the landscape was noted, in sharp contrast to the craggy cliffs of the previous day. The presence of windmills, albeit not so traditional, indicated that we were getting close.

Maarinke was pretty excited as we crossed the border into Holland,

entering the province of Limburg. Situated in the far south-east of the Netherlands, tucked between Belgium and Germany, it comprises about half of the original Duchy of Limbourg, which was split when Belgium seceded from the Kingdom of the Netherlands in 1830. Maastricht and surrounds chose to stay with the Dutch whereas the towns of Limbourg and Liege joined the Wallonian region of Belgium.

Maastricht, situated on the Meuse (Maas) River, is one of the oldest cities in the Netherlands, having been originally settled by the Romans, though it is more recently famous for the Maastricht treaty. Signed there in 1992, this led to the formation of the European Community and subsequently the European Union, and the introduction of the Euro and associated monetary policy.

We had a stroll around the streets and squares,

stopped off for some Dutch staples: coffee, white beer, cake (Limburgse vlaai, I think...) and krokets. Mmm, unidentified & fried.

The Van der Meulens were able to live up to their name (From the Mill):

We wandered a bit more around the town, having a look at the Vrijthof,

and the Basilica of St Servatius,

Crossed the Maas,

and had a look down towards the buildings where the treaty was signed:

Downed a couple of authentic Dutch beers in De Bobbel,

and bade Holland farewell.

Back in Germany, we stopped off in Aachen (see map above) which was the seat of the Holy Roman Empire under Charlemagne aka Carolus Magnus, the founding father of both France and Germany and ancestor of all the royal families in Europe.

The cathedral was initially built by him (this octagonal section),

and in fact contains his remains.

How appropriate that, after visiting the site of the treaty which led to the creation of the Euro and the European Union, we should be paying tribute to Charlemagne, the head of the first united European empire since the Romans, and arguably the Father of Europe. A big day for pan-Europeanism!

And a big day for cool gargoyles too.

What a fascinating and important corner of Europe. Within a few hundred kilometres radius, there are five countries, territory that has been variously ruled or occupied by the Romans, Celts, Carolingians, Burgundians, Habsburgs, both Spanish and Austrian, the French, Prussians, Germans and now, some might say, the Eurocrats in Brussels. The original seat of the Holy Roman Empire in Aachen, the European Parliament in Strasbourg, the European Commision in Brussels, the treaty of Maastricht, Luxembourg, the original capital of the European Coal and Steel Community and now location of the European Court of Justice and European Investment Bank, the European Central Bank in Frankfurt are all within an hour or two's drive. While the EU has expanded eastward (as well as other directions...) from it's original base, and forseeably will continue to do so, much of the administration and consequently power remains concentrated in this relatively small, traditionally prosperous region.

Heading back to Bonn, we gave the European food and culture a rest with dinner at a Mexican restaurant and called it a night, satisfied after having achieved my second quickest trip to a country, almost eclipsing my memorable 3.5 hour jog around Luxembourg in 04.

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The weather had regressed again but, undaunted, we set out to Cologne, just north of Bonn on the Rhine (see above map again). It was raining there also, a phenomenon that might presumably be termed Colognic irrigation. Boom boom.

First stop, the Museum Ludwig,

which contains an amazing collection of modern art, both German and international. In particular, the biggest private collection of Picasso paintings in the world was endowed to the museum.

In addition, there were large offerings of Russian modernists,

German expressionists,

and American pop-art.

Here we are outside the Romisch-Germanisches Museum - the Roman's were apparently kind enough to leave enough ruins and artifacts in and around Colonia Agrippinensis, a colony in Germania Inferior settled under "agreement" with the resident barbarians, the Ubii, and in fact the northernmost Roman settlement, that an entire museum can be devoted to this today.

It must be admitted that Roman history was passed up in favour of Phase II of Lunch. It was deemed that baguettes and lattes at the Ludwig museum were not enough for us to grow up into big men, so we needed some further sustenance, in the form of Kolsch beer and meat, hearty quantities of both.

This is the guy in charge of filling up the beer glasses, a noble calling in deed.

Here is the meat. A local delicacy we were assured.

Maarinke could not be persuaded to compromise her vegetarianism (again), even in the name of authentic experience, so i had no choice but to give it a go.

Not bad, though i don't think i'll be trying to make it for myself at home. Especially given that home is in the land of mad cow disease. Subsequent meat was somewhat more cooked, and just as good:

Properly fed now, we were prepared to visit Cologne Cathedral, the largest (and on that day, one of the coldest) Gothic church in northern Europe and, in the 1880s, the world's tallest structure.

These boxes, the Sarcophagi of the Magi, allegedly contain the remains of the three wise men.

Frederick Barbarossa, a descendant of Charlemagne, flogged them, in the grand northern tradition of looting the cultural treasures of southern Europe (Elgin marbles, Pergamon, etc), from Milan. Presumably he was allowed by the Archbishop of Cologne to feel absolved of his transgression, having donated them to the cathedral.

Returning to Bonn, we headed along to Kunst Museum Bonn. Having been the capital, Bonn is notably endowed with museums. The collections in the Kunstmuseum originated earlier than that and are very strong in local works, those of Macke, a Bonn resident, and the other Rhenish Expressionists,

and Joseph Beuys, who hailed from Dusseldorf.

Lis and Joe were kind enough to take us out for an excellent final night dinner at their favourite Italian restaurant:

A fabulous meal, endowed in both quality and quantity, of which a notable highlight was the grappa dessert, berry sorbet with about half a litre of grappa poured over the top. Jollity ensued from all quarters.

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Our final morning, and time for little else than farewells in Cologne (note grand and iconic cathedral in background),

Off, through snowy forests and fields,

to Hahn airport

and back to Old Blighty.

What a fantastic conclusion to our Eurotour! Four days in and around the Rhineland, four cities in two countries, too much food over at least five culinary traditions, innumerable museums, churches, monuments, sights and delights. Lis and Joachim were wonderful & generous hosts, showing us an excellent time, for which we were most grateful.

2006-02-01T21:05:00.000Z

The Big Trip
Part 3: München

Exchanging pizza, chianti and relative warmth (>0ºC) for schweinshax'n, pilsener and freezingness, we alighted at Munich Flughafen & trained past snow-covered fields in to town.

Walked from our hostel (Wombat Hostel - really good and value => recommended), near the Hauptbahnhof, into the town centre and had a look around. Dined at Nordsee at the Viktualienmarket, after an entree of Schwarzwaldtorte-style doughnut (yes, it is as good as it sounds, cherries, cream, chocolate sprinkles - Krispy Kreme eat your heart out).

Had an obligatory beer at the Hofbrauhaus,

and called it a night at a relatively early hour in preparation for the forthcoming cultural blitzkrieg.

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The following morning we strolled north to the area of town where most of the museums are located. Being the centre of the relatively prosperous and powerful Kingdom of Bavaria until the unification of Germany, Munich has some of the trappings of a capital: impressive large buildings laid out nicely amongst big gardens & open spaces.

Here we are in front of the Glypothek (sculpture museum):

which we admired from outside only, before heading to the Staatsgalerie im Lenbachhaus:

The highlights here were the works of Der Blaue Reiter: Kandinsky, Munter, Jawlensky, Marc, Macke et al, who lived and worked in Munich and surrounding towns in the early 1900s, and who did amazing things firstly with colour, and later with form.

The Munchener symbolist, Franz von Stuck, was pretty cool too (if a bit naughty... tee hee):

Walked east to the Englischergarten, so named after Sir Benjamin Thompson, aka Count Rumford, the American-born British-aligned (during the American revolution) thermodynamicist and emissary to the Elector of Bavaria, who laid out the plans for them.

Headed into town for a lunch of Bismarck herring sandwiches and giant pickled gherkins (one of the few vegetables available in Germany),

checked out the Rathaus by day,

then off to the Alte Pinakothek, for a hearty dose of meisterwerke europäischer malerei vom 14 bis 18 jahrhundert.

We were a bit time constrained but managed to zip through most of the galleries, checking out the masses of Cranachs, Holbeins, Memlings, Durers - lots of northern renaissance art to complement that from south of the alps we'd enjoyed in Italia. The big highlight was definitely the collection of Rubens, including the whoppingest painting of his that i've ever seen: the Great Last Judgement (about 6 metres tall, the jpeg here doesn't do it justice.)

Booted out at closing, but artistically unsated, we marched purposefully across the road, impervious to the bitter cold,

to the Pinakothek der Moderne, where after a rejuvanatory round of Ein caffe bitte,

we had a lookee at the amazing collection of modern art ranging from sculpture & paintings (Die Brucke & Der Blaue Reiter), to craft & design, to installations & video works.

Of particular note, there was a really cool video collage of the movies of Italian film-maker Piero Paolo Pasolini. One sat in the centre of the room and segments of the films were projected onto 16 screens around the walls. Parallel scenes from different movies were shown together, eg. a woman walking along a street, people starting to hold hands, people dancing etc. At other times, the scenes differed but complemented one another despite obviously being from different movies. At times there were up to 8 different scenes at once - it was redolent of Baraka or Koyanoqaatsi in the cacophony of images, but a spectacular illustration of how he returned to the same basic themes and employed consistent images throughout his career - it would have been pretty fun to produce the collage.

All this art had given us mighty big appetites, appetites so large they could only be quelled with half a pig. We returned to the Hofbrauhaus, having partaken of their libational but not culinary offerings the previous night, and got stuck right in:

The childlike joy in my face masks the screams of protest from my arteries (and liver, though it should have learnt by now that its ) as I tucked into the mighty piece-o-pig they call a schweinshax'n. Another opportunity to be embarrassed about our nationality as the oom-pah band played Waltzing Matilda and half the crowd (most of whom had ridden in to town on Kontiki buses methinks) went wild. A far cry from the dignified near-silence of the Alte Pinakothek but I suppose travel is flavoured by such contrasts.
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The next morning we headed north once again,

to complete the Pinakothek hattrick, going this time to the Neue Pinakothek to see paintings, predominantly German and predominantly from the 19th century.

Highlights were: paintings by the Nazarenes, pious Germans who lived in Rome and aimed to emulate the styles of the pre- and early renaissance masters (quite similar in ideology and style to England's own Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood),

paintings by Klenze and Schinkel, both better known for their neoclassical architecture, Klenze having designed the Glyptothek and Walhalla and Schinkel having designed the Altes Nationalgalerie in Berlin,

lavish sculptures by Canova and Thorvaldsen;

and a bit more Franz von Stuck (another risque theme, this one entitled Sin).

The paths around the town were covered with snow and ice which, on the oft-trodden ones, was quite smooth and hard. Most fortuitously my shoes had nice, flat soles which allowed me, by taking a bit of a run-up, to "skate" along for several metres at a time (trust me i measured it). I found that bending the knees slightly and shouting "Woo-Hoo" gave the best results.

Boy, that game never got tired. Miraculously, i didn't fall over. No photos i'm afraid as Maarinke declined to encourage such activities. The novelty of snow has definitely not worn off - 21 formative years in Western Australia has ensured that.

After a quick lunch at the Hbf, we caught the train out to Dachau for some history. It must be strange for the people in Dachau, which is a reasonable sized town half an hour's train ride from Munich, to know that their hometown is immediately associated with some of the worst atrocities of the second world war, thanks to the decision to build the first concentration camp there in 1933. The museum is set out really well, giving a lot of info on the social, economic & political background to WWII then portraying the inmates & the appalling conditions in which they lived, worked and in many cases died.

A large fraction of the prisoners at Dachau between 1933 and 1945 were ethnic Germans, predominantly political prisoners, dissidents who had opposed the Nazi regime as it came to power in the 1930s, in addition to the Jewish, Roma, homosexual and other prisoners regarded as impure under the xenophobic policies of the Nazis.

I can't say much more except that it was really worth visiting - a solemn reminder that a society as advanced as any other in the world at the time can produce such horrors.

An interesting counterpoint to the former concentration camp at Dachau was provided by a visit to Haus der Kunst, built under Hitler as a museum to display and distinguish between art approved by the Nazis and that condemned by them.

The approved stuff was a strange mix of strong images & sculptures (& buildings) and bucolic idealisations of German life, along with xenophobic depictions of the soon-to-be victims of the Holocaust. "We shall discover and encourage the artists who are able to impress upon the State of the German people the cultural stamp of the Germanic race . . . in their origin and in the picture which they present they are the expressions of the soul and the ideals of the community." (Hitler, Party Day speech, 1935). There are big similarities between the german Reich Kunst and the Socialist Realism promoted by Stalin around the same time.

The Degenerate Art condemned by them, and removed en masse from German museums, included Chagall, Beckmann, Ernst, Kandinsky, Kirchner, Klee, Mondriaan et al - basically a Who's Who of the most progressive, important and respected (now, at least) artists of the period, many of whom were German or lived in Germany. The Nazis staged exhibitions of selected "Entartete Kunst", the first of which was at the Haus der Kunst. Interestingly, over 3 million people attended these - it is hard to know what this says about the German people at the time.

One could dismiss the condemnation and ridiculing of paintings in comparison with the obvious human tragedy associated with somewhere like Dachau, but one is reminded that these were both facets of the same totalitarian regime - poignant in considering issues of censorship, freedom of speech, etc. While we can look back and scoff at the art that was 'approved', knowing that the 'degenerate' stuff was and is much better, the control of art by the state, while intellectually backward, reflected and propagated underlying political ideology that led to millions of deaths.

The building has an obvious sternness to it, in keeping with Hitler's imposing architectural ideals - art and architecture as tools for propagating ideology and gaining power and social control. The Haus der Kunst obviously isn't being used as a political tool now (except, subtly, in the sense that its very existence and its current use, exhibiting works that would no doubt have been regarded as degenerate, makes a statement), and I saw two very cool exhibitions, a retrospective of the photographs of Lee Friedlander and a collection of works by siblings in art, ranging from the Brothers Limbourg to Jake and Dinos Chapman.

We dined at Cafe Mozart, a really funky, ostensibly-Austrian (a biiiig schnitzel for the big fatty that i'm rapidly becoming) but quite cosmopolitan restaurant (near Sendlinger Tor, for anyone that's interested). The DJ mixing jazz and soul was a welcome contrast to the tuba and accordion rendition of Waltzing Matilda of the previous night.

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Farewelling Munich after an incredible three days there, we tarried not, dashing Flughafen-ward to check in for Cologne.

My fears regarding the dubiousness of my chosen budget airline were allayed upon discovering that Munich, unlike Rome, is one of their hubs; not only was my flight not cancelled, there were actually staff from the airline there to check me in, rather than some dodgy subcontracted checking-in service, so it was all good. Bade Maarinke a temporary farewell and made a dent in my travel reading: Millenium by Felipe Fernandez Armesto, a suitably lofty tome for our ambitiously self-improving expedition.

Final reflections on Munich: beyond the hearty Bavarian pretzels/beer/oompah/leiderhosen image that is initially presented to tourists, it is a really cool, stylish city. I enjoyed strolling the streets around the north of the town, near the museums and the opera, Residenz etc. - lots of trendy boutiques, little art galleries, stately buildings full of private banks and venture capital firms - signs of a prosperity that contradicts the much-vaunted economic stagnation in Germany - this is probably being experienced most drastically in the East. Munich definitely gives Berlin a run for its money as the cultural capital of Germany, I give it two thumbs up and definitely recommend it as a place to visit - though please, if you do so as part of a Kontiki tour, please do not go to the Hofbrauhaus, get drunk and sing along to the oompah band - it doesn't benefit anybody.

Next stop: Rhineland.

2006-01-29T18:27:00.000Z

The Big Trip
Part II: Firenze e Roma

The constraints of museum opening hours dictated a hasty arrival and establishment of ourselves in Florence, followed by determined dash to the Uffizi.

All this effort was worth it, giving us three hours in one of the best art museums in the world. Highlights included Monaco, Botticelli, . Plus the view out the window over the Arno was pretty good:

and the outdoor cafe, though chilly, was pretty picturesque:

A couple of the rooms were closed & I felt a bit shortchanged that we'd missed out on seeing the Caravaggios. It turned out these were in the new rooms down stairs, along with some very dramatic Reni and Honthorst works,

which made for a climactic finale to our visit.

Having fulfilled one of the key art-appreciation aims in Florence, we were able to relax and enjoy wandering about the town.

Much smaller than Rome, Florence is filled with cute little streets and piazzas that make it ideal for pedestrian tourists like ourselves.

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An oversight on my part during trip-planning, meant that our only full day in Florence was a Monday, when most of the museums are closed, hence yesterday's rush to the Uffizi. This afforded us, however, a day to stroll about, free of my obsessive art-fervour. We had a look-ee at the Duomo, Santa Maria del Fiore,

and adjacent Campanile Giotto,

strolled east through various neighbourhoods

and collated some lunch from the markets,

which we ate on the banks of the Arno.

South of the river, we hiked up the hill to the Fortress Belvedere and had a look at Palazzo Pitti

and several churches: Santa Spirito & Santa Maria del Carmine.

Crossed the Ponte Vecchio

and moseyed through the centre of town, enjoying the afternoon light on the beautiful buildings there.

Going north again, saw another fortress,

and wandered through a less picturesque, in the traditional sense, section of town, which nonetheless exuded its own beauty in the evening light.

Ate the remains from our lunch for dinner and drank two bottles of chianti, after which conversation with fellow hostel guests became tolerable.

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Our final morning in Florence and the last chance to see the Academia, which we did. It was good, though reaching threshold for consumption of art from 1300 to 1700. In Maarinke's words: if i see one more Virgin and Child or Annunciation or Pieta, I'm going to scream.

In my words: Do you think David killed Goliath to make up for not being quite "correctly proportioned" - you couldn't just go out and buy a big car in those days, you know.

In Maarinke's words (in front of the David): Matt, stop gesturing like that with your hands; everyone knows what you're talking about.

It's great being arty and cultured and stuff.

Haste at Academia gave us time for a final walk round before returning to Rome. The walk went a little something like this:

We walked to Piazza Santa Croce,

paid tribute to a famous Florentine,

bought some more spinach balls for the hungry vegetarian, and checked out the markets before bidding Florence farewell.

Back in Rome (managed to not miss train this time), we dumped stuff @ hostel, trying to suppress Australian accents to avoid bearing any resemblance to fellow countrymen staying there (the great irony of hostelling being that you travel half way round the world to expand your mind and/or horizons and end up sharing a room with someone who used to work with the father of someone you once tutored or, in the case of Rome, are checked in by someone who went to your high school and share a room with someone who is about to start work at the same place one of your mates does (RBA, in case you're reading Grant)).

As antidote to overdose of chiarascuros, pietas, altarpieces etc, we went to the Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna, stopping off to be stereotypically (and, given above rant, hypocritically) Australian by drinking a couple of longnecks in the park (the Giardin del Lago mind you, right near the Piazza di Siena, and it was Morretti we were drinking, so it was all pretty authentico derelicto behaviour).

It was more like the Art Gallery of NSW than the Uffizi or the Musei Vaticani (and if you could imagine how many people would go to the AGNSW, no disrespect intended, if it were transplanted to Rome, you would overestimate the attendance at the GNAM by a factor of 2). The collection there is big, spanning the 19th to 21st centuries, and there is a lot of good stuff, both Italian and international. The problem is, i suppose, that whilst Italy is famous for (1) Roman antiquity and (2) most famous art from 1300 to 1700, from Giotto and Cimabue through Da Vinci, Santi, Buonarotti, Tiziano, Corregio, Veronese etc. to Caravaggio, Tiepolo, Tintoretto and Canaletto etc, (blahblahblah, look at me, i'm a dancing monkey who can recite lots of artists names, give me a banana), things had gone pretty quiet from 1750 when the baton had definitely been passed to France (having been shared with Flanders & Holland admittedly from 1600 on) and then also to England, Germany, etc. That's not to say that painters weren't painting in Italy, and that Italy wasn't important in terms of art: the Prix de Rome remained a most prestigious award at the Academy in Paris throughout the 1800s and artists have continually travelled there to seek inspiration and learn technique. For various reasons, political, social, religious and artistic (and combinations thereof), the most progressive, exciting, novel art, the stuff that gets written about in art books, and initiates movements that we can label and praise, particularly in this modern age that prizes conceptual novelty over perfection of craft (Hirst shark, take a bow), was done elsewhere.

The collection at the Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna clearly demonstrated that there were lots of artists doing lots of good work, following roughly the progression of "The Canon": neoclassicism, romanticism, painting en plein air, realism, impressionism, post-impressionism, expressionism, cubism, abstraction (blahblahblah, this time i'm reciting movements, another banana please), then the multiplicity of forms, styles, media that characterise the modern and postmodern ages, but generally a few years behind the cutting edge. Coming from Australia, which wouldn't be claimed as a centre of any international art movements, but which has it's own "story of art" that is understood in the context of, but is not dictated by, the international story, i could appreciate the Italian art we saw there. It wasn't Ingres, Delacroix, Turner, Manet, Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Picasso (here I go again...; though there were a couple of them represented there), but it was good interesting stuff that reflected developments in art and society at the time. And no altarpieces.

Probably for me the most exciting pieces at the Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna were the works of the Futurists (Boccioni, Carra, Severini), who lamented some of these things about which I have rambled above, Italy's departure from the centre of art etc, and who captured some of the dynamism of the modern technological world in their fractured, abstractified images.

Maarinke dug the 20c abstracts too:

After all that waffling, the general moral of the story was that good art doesn't have to be famous art, and being two of the eight people in the entire museum, including staff, beats pushing through crowds at the Vatican hands down. And it was time for a couple of quiet ones.

Big dinner to farewell Italy: bruschetta & breadsticks to start, fettucini vongole & spaghetti napoletana respectively for entree, sangiovese to drink, osso bucco & zuppa di pesce resp. for mains, panetone and grappa (doubles x 2) to finish.

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Final morning in Italy: enough time for one more authentico experience, a stroll to the Campo di Fiore. Rome was bustling by the time we dragged ourselves out of bed (a special thanks to the (you guessed it) Australians sharing our hostel room for returning drunk at 4am from their swim in the Fontana di Trevi - yet another moment to make me so proud of my country) but it was cool to see the city in a different light (though in mid-winter the direction of the sun doesn't change a whole lot between 8am and 4pm).

Bought some dates at the Campo di Fiori markets (at €20/kg, we were paying for the experience as well as the dates), then returned to the hostel for breakfast and timely check-out.

Then it was off to Fiumicino for us and, after some complications involving my flight on El Cheapo (or more linguistically appropriately, Das Cheapen) Air being cancelled and me only finding out about it after I'd asked four different officials, we boarded a Lufthansa (woohoo, an upgrade for me - definitely landing on my feet with regards to transport, Birmingham train fiasco notwithstanding) flight to Munich.

It was a pretty clear day so we could see Venice (only just!)

and the alps, which were spectacular.

Next stop: Bayern.

2006-01-29T17:19:00.000Z

The Big Trip
Part 1: Roma

Thursday Jan 5 saw my departure from Stansted to Roma Ciampino to meet Maarinke for two weeks of continental travels, the culmination of months of intensive preparations. After an inauspicious start to the trip, involving me boarding a train to Birmingham (only realized after departure from Cambridge station), i managed to check-in with 165 seconds to spare and made it to Rome. Found the hostel and went for a reconnaisance trek about town, past Colloseo,

and the monument to Vittorio Emmanuel II,

all the way to the Vatican.

Trained the following morning to Leonardo Da Vinci aeroporto in time for Maarinke's arrival from Vietnam, via Singapore and Frankfurt. She was in high spirits, on her inaugural trip to Europe, and of course pleased to see me (particularly so as I, uncharacteristically and some might suggest miraculously, wasn't late to meet her at the airport).

We found our hotel, noting the campanile vista from the window of our room,

then, wasting no time, we hit the streets, stopping first at the Coliseum,

which turned out to be far more infested with hawkers during the daylight hours, then on to Foro Romano,

where the clear skies and sunlight, both relatively foreign concepts to me now, allowed for full appreciation of the splendours of the great empire.

Up the Capitoline hill (one of the seven famed hills of Rome),

to see Romulus and Remus (famed founders upon aforementioned hills),

and the north side of the Campidoglio.

Jumping ahead to the 19th century, the Vittorio Emmanuel II monument, built after the unification of the nation of Italy, whilst in keeping with the monumentality of the ancient empire, expresses its splendour in a radically different style, more redolent of similar nationalist- neoclassical works in Germany from the same period.

It appears to be a great cliche to criticise this monument in comparison with the graceful ruins of antiquity that surround it, or with the renaissance and baroque palazzos and chiesas that constitute much of the city. It is representative of Italy's move into nationhood after more than 1200 years: in this day of pan-Europeanism, as distinctions between states become more blurred, such commemorative pieces give reminders of the relative modernity of the concept of nationhood. It was good to enjoy this perspective over history, whilst also appreciating the view over the city.

Back down the hill, past the Foro Imperiali,

and into the city, where the piazzas were teeming with crowds enjoying the Epiphany Day public holiday. Purchase of trendy new sunglasses from a street vendor provided opportunity for Blue Steel posing in nearby alley.

Maarinke was putting in a sturdy performance for someone who hadn't been to bed for 54 hours, but a rejuvanatory hot chocolate was in order, enjoyed amongst the throngs outside the Pantheon.

7pm saw Maarinke, understandably, collapse into bed and, after a couple of slices of pizza con funghi e salsiccia, I hit the hay also, in preparation for another big day tomorrow.

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A relatively early start saw us make it to the Vatican when the queue was only 1200 metres long. That was a pretty exciting and stimulating couple of hours,

but worth it once inside. The Capella Sistina, crammed as it was with 2000 tourists snapping away, most of whom wouldn't know a Bernini from a Botticelli or a Lippi from a Lotto, was good without being great: obviously one shouldn't pass up the opportunity to see one of the most famous places/artworks, but that doesn't mean you can't make snide, jaded remarks about the experience.

What were really good were the rooms through which one dutifully troops on the way to and from the main event:

Filled with ornate decoration, great big maps of different parts of Italy, lavish frescos, there was plenty to look at whilst attempting to distract oneself from the mindless banter purveyed by fellow tourists. The modern religious art collection, of which we saw a subset, was an welcome contrast to the masses of High Renaissance on offer.

The Pinacoteca was also cool (though we were to later discover that the bulk of the Baroque pieces were being exhibited in Bonn at the time). Lunch and a bottle of paint stripper was followed by a quick visit to St Peters piazza,

where Maarinke looked suitably pious reverent in front of the Basilica.

Strolled then past Castel Sant Angelo,

back across the Tiber,

up the Spanish steps,

to the Pincio, from where we viewed the city,

and Piazza Popolo.

Wandered south then through a really cool swisho part of the city filled with art galleries, antique stores, cafes and trendy boutiques. Paid obligatory visit to Fontana de Trevi

where a kind street hawker offered to steal my camera (admittedly in exchange for a lovely red rose), but declined my reciprocal offer to jam his rose in, thorny end first. Having ticked most of the touristy boxes, we celebrated with a couple of Morettis and a lasagne and called it a day.

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Squeezing the last drops of cultural value out of Roma before our departure to Firenze, we assembled in front of Villa Borghese at 8:30am.

That was unanimously judged the best thing we saw in Rome: a mansion in acres of parkland, filled with topnotch painting and sculpture, predominantly Baroque. Highlights: Bernini, Titian, Caravaggio, Veronese and the incredible entrance hall. As a pleasant contrast to the knuckle-dragging throngs with which we were forced to share our Musei Vaticani experience, many of the rooms in Villa Borghese could be enjoyed in complete solitude. Sustained ourselves with a ciambella,

then off to the stazione,

where we missed our train thanks to a combination of faulty departures boards and our (my) own ignorance and apathy. Thanks to my faultless performance as "Stupid Australian tourist" in the station information office, we were then upgraded to a Eurostar: woohoo - sitting in the aisle was a small price to pay for the 1.5 hours carved from our travel time.

Next stop: Toscano.

2006-01-04T22:24:00.000Z

New Years Eve in London

Being a cheapskate, i try to avoid paying for train tickets whenever possible, short of actually breaking the law, so i jumped on the opportunity for a lift to London with Sinead. Even better, I got to drive: their's nothing better to amp you up for a night of NYE partying than driving someone elses car at 140 km/hr down the M11. The subsequent tube journey from Upminster to Brixton afforded me a few quiet moments to prepare myself for the evening by consuming 8 500mL Kronenbourgs and churning through a few chapters of Ernst Gombrich's 'A Little History of the World'. Arriving in Brixton, I was ready:

Met up with the gang and checked out a couple of joints before settling on the White Horse bar as the venue for the evening. Everyone was in fine fettle.

Did the midnight thing, decided we'd had enough, helped some randoms push-start their car, thereby fulfilling my new years resolution to help someone sometime during the year.

Back to MJs to chill out,

and off to sleep, in my case on the living room floor.
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2006 was greeted with expected levels of enthusiasm,

though outlooks improved after a glass of champagne and some parmigiano reggiano.

Not one to pass up the opportunities associated with a trip to London, i went along to Tate Modern, had a look at the Rachel Whiteread installation,

and the Le Douanier Rousseau exhibition.

Walking back along Southbank, the National Theatre looked cool, all lit up.

Back through town,

continuing the cheapskate act, i forwent the tube and walked back to Kings Cross, ready to make a start on the year.

2006-01-04T22:20:00.000Z

Christmas in London

Spending Christmas away from the family fold, various Australians, including Brother Paul and myself, converged on Clapham to make the best of things. Arriving late afternoon on Christmas eve, first stop was Tesco's to stock up for the festivities. £168 later and we were all turkeyed, porked, puddinged, custarded and wined up, or at least sufficiently equipped to be all of those things and possibly more. A modest evening in anticipation of tomorrow's excitement was extended in scope by the appearance of Mr Timothy J Le Souef, physics and engineering graduate of the University of Western Australia, now resident of Bristol, whom i had seen only briefly in the past three years hence was delighted to share reunion, as was he, no doubt as well as being almost totally incoherent, like overcome with Christmas spirit and stuff.
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Christmas morning saw us spring up, relatively bright and moderately early, to open pressies,

and spread the joy,

and, in some cases, get started on the Christmas cheer.

Straight after breakfast we threw ourselves with great gusto into the preparation of lunch. What we may have lacked in competence, we definitely made up for in enthusiasm.

Paul looked like he knew what he was doing with the turkey,

and he was definitely having a good time:

We weren't sure about the appropriate culinary utilisation, if any, for the turkey neck,

though the obvious (inappropriate) comedy utilisation just had to be pursued.

Paul and I smartened up our act in honour of the main meal,

which turned out to be just as good as we'd hoped:

and was devoured with remarkable gusto:

It was quite a feed, with notable contributions from all (big shout-outs to Paul for the turkey, Alex for the veges and me for numerous trips to the shops for a whole lot of what turned out out to be unnecessary items... ):

and was generally regarded as a worthy substitute for the traditional family meals.

Not long after dinner, it could be, relatively diplomatically, said that the festive cheer got the better of us:

Big ups to Paul for getting through 95% of the above-displayed 1 litre bottle of gin - well done you drunken bastard. I'm certainly in no position to criticise, having concluded the evening a little bit like this:

Meeeeeeh-eeeeh-eeeeh-ry Christmas!!! Thanks for coming everybody!!__________________________________________________________________

Boxing Day was, no big surprises there, a bit slow. Eventually made good of ourselves, moseyed across Clapham Common

to K and A's place for a couple of warm-up rounds, then off to dinner at Nando's.

Headed to the pub for a few more reflective libations,

Things went downhill quickly (again, oops-a-daisy):

Returning to MJs, I wrapped up the evening with a few nice facial expressions,

then turned in for the night, after which my inconsiderate "friends" and sibling decorated me with a beer can and a cardboard tube. I guess.

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Paul had to fly out to Dublin first thing in the morning, to go and adjudicate at the World Debating Championships of the World. As I was up then, having just been for my morning run and done my yoga, I offered to accompany him to the tube station where we had an emotional farewell.

I think i can speak for both of us in saying the main emotion experienced at the time was "a headache".

It was really cold that morning. Cold enough, in fact, for snow!! Wooo-hoooooo!!!!!

Or in Alex's immortal words: (3 c's above middle) Snooooooooooooooooooooooow!!!!!!!!! Here MJ rings her Mum (Hi Jane - word up!!) to give her the first-hand weather report:

In atonement for the festive excesses of the previous few days, a day of cultural sophistication and artistic contemplation was in order. Met a friend from Cambridge, Sinead, at Warren St and moseyed down to the Wallace Collection,

The Wallace Collection is wicked - an unbelievably comprehensive collection of painting, sculpture & decorative arts from 1500s to 1800s that was gathered by one family before being donated to the nation - highlights are Rococo paintings, Boucher, Watteau, Lancret plus the good old Laughing Cavalier by Frans Hals, I think you'd all know that one, and Titian's Perseus and Andromeda - fan-ferkin-tastic.

Sinead, being a Londoner originally, just loves being shown around by a poncey know-it-all Australian upstart who has been to London all of 6 times (each of them weekends):

Headed to the National Gallery for a bit more cultural stuff,

to have a look at, amongst other things, the photography exhibition of Tom Hunter - allegedly the first photography exhibition @ the National Gallery!

Met up with MJ & Alex at Tam's place, (she had become engaged only two days before - congrats Tam & Ben!),

Tam and I killed Alex and MJ, fair and square. Wiped the floor with them. Call of the game was Alex: Something to do with ants. MJ: Um er um, anthill? anteater? Alex (after time's up): Antler. Apparently living in France for 8 months is an adequate excuse for losing one's grip on the English language.

Here the winning team revels in its grand and well-deserved victory.

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Headed out to see more sights with Alex and Andrew. All of us are from Perth but, as mentioned above, Alex has been living in France for 8 months, Andrew has been living in Portugal for two years & I, as you avid fans would all know, have been in Cambridge for 7 months. All friends of MJ but none of us really knew each other before Christmas, the adventures that lay ahead would bring us together in ways we'd never imagined. Or something.

We did have a rockin day though, that's for sure. First stop, London Bridge,

where it was real cold,

then past the Monument,

and along the edge of the City,

to the Tower of London,

and a bit of a peepy at the Tower Bridge,

over which we walky-ed to see the Yann-Arthus Bertrand (Earth from the Sky guy) exhibition.

By that stage, it was freakin freezin, so we scurried along the south bank,

to the nearest pub, where we jammed entire plates of Yorkshire pudding dippers into our gasping gullets. That simply wasn't enough, so we had to go back to Clapham for a bit'o'din-dins at The George with The MJ and The Lauren,

before I headed Camward again, bidding London farewell after my longest trip there thus far, in my life ever, in the world, in the whole of time ever. Awesome times - thanks to all involved for a top Xmas!!!!

2006-01-04T22:16:00.000Z

After a big, productive touristy week in London, Paul came up to Cambridge to take in the country air and imbibe of the scholarly essence that permeates these hallowed lanes.

Naturally we had to show him a good time, which by all accounts we did. A civilised dinner at Audley Cottage, courtesy of Stas and Ben, accompanied by a few glasses of wine,

which was followed by a quick trip to that most salubrious of entertainment establishments, Ballare, better known as Cindy's, which happens to be staffed by some of the most courteous, cultured and sophisticated bouncers you could ever hope to meet.

Plus he got to see how hard I work also.

So, a good balanced perspective there, I think you'll agree.

2006-01-04T22:02:00.000Z

Things had certainly been wrapping up in Cambridge with end-of-year and Christmas dinners, students and staff departing and things generally heading towards the Christmas holidays. Given that the decorations had been up in stores since early September, it's not surprising I guess. I, however, was not slowing down.

The weekend after Amsterdam, Jo and Erin, who used to live in the room in which I now reside, so that would make her my ex-flatmate once removed, were having a housewarming party in London. Another good excuse to get down there, but I'm never one to waste a London trip, so I packed in the action, heading to the Wallace Collection on Saturday afternoon. Or evening really, as it was 3:45 when I arrived there, so the sun was basically down.

The Wallace Collection was amazing, particularly so as i'd consumed the remainder of a little souvenir from Amsterdam, which enabled me to gain certain insights into the paintings, and myself and life and the universe, which i may not have otherwise attained.

Highlights were Frans Hals' Laughing Cavalier (incorrectly named on both counts)

Francois Boucher's tributes to Louis XV: The Rising of the Sun

and The Setting of the Sun

and Titian's Perseus and Andromeda.

Wandered through Marylebone, Soho, etc to Trafalgar Square, seeing the Christmas tree there,

which I'm told is an annual gift from Norway.

Then went south past Big Ben (and the tower containing it, for Big Ben is in fact the bell),

and Westminster Abbey, and along the Thames.

Went to MJ's then headed, with Amsterdam love birds in tow, to Erin & Jo's party. It was great to see Erin & Jo and to check out their cool new apartment. Unfortunately, a bout of laryngitis limited my contributions to conversation; this, as you can imagine, was a great tragedy for all concerned.

Highlight of the night was going over Tower Bridge on the taxi ride home.

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Went to the Rubens exhibition "A Master in the Making" at the National Gallery.

Painting Massacre of the Innocents found in a stately home in Austria in 2001. The owners didn't even like it apparently, so were happy to put it up for auction when it was identified as a Rubens.

It went for £45million.

It was great to see his early works in the exhibition and note how his style developed formatively, then go upstairs to the main collection and compare with his later works.

Dashed back home to ready myself for the arrival of my old PhD supervisor who was paying Cambridge a whistlestop visit somewhere on his way between Wisconsin, Indiana, London and Austria.

2006-01-04T21:29:00.000Z

Amsterdam

Directly after the festivities detailed in the previous post, I headed home, woke my housemate Kieran and packed my bags for Amsterdam. Having not left the United Kingdom for almost 7 weeks, it was definitely time for a mini-break. We were meeting MJ at Harwich Ferry Terminal, where we embarked for the ride of our lives over the North Sea.

I have never been so sea-sick in my life. Sure not having actually been to bed after imbibing a few post-dinner ports probably didn't help. Nonetheless, thanks to particularly high seas, the ship was rocking back and forth like nobody's business, so much so that one could barely walk 3 metres without being slammed into the wall or the nearby person carrying a tray of red wines and coffees.

Thankfully, having definitely not found my sea legs on the marine journey, I still had my land legs so the train from Hook van Holland to Amsterdam Centraal was pretty painless. Apart from the English yobs in our carriage drinking wine from the bottle and singing lewd songs about once working in Chicago, in a department store, woman came in asking for a nail, I didn't have a nail so I gave her a screw, you get the gist...

My photodocumentation of the evening's events was very poor, so to summarise: Arrived, Crokets (more about them later) and Chips, Heineken, Hotel, Edam and Grolsch for Dinner, Bar, Heineken, Sambuca, Bar 2, Kieran and MJ shack up, Grolsch, Long Walk around Amsterdam... alone boohoo. The latter did yield good photos:

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Raring to go the next morning, we crossed over numerous canals,

and saw a giant clogboat

on our way into the town centre

We had a look at the markets

pretended to be Sinter Klaas,

Tried on some big clogs

and some regular(ish)-sized ones,

and had a bit of lunch.

Dutch Christmas traditions appear to involve retro comical racial stereotypes which I imagine wouldn't be allowed in Australia, or the UK, or most places. But, it is a tradition and, in this age of globalisation, commercialism and marketing-driven cultural homogenisation, they should be cherished.

All this excitement was wearing the children out, so I dropped them off at the hotel and went past the Rijksmuseum,

to the Van Gogh museum.

That was of course amazing: so good to see such a large amount of his work and his contemporaries at once. Plus they have a really good collection of other art. The mushrooms i'd had with my lunch were quite helpful also, in the pretty colours deparment. So it was a very fruitful visit.

When I'd moseyed back to the hotel,

the children hadn't been misbehaving too much so after a quick re-enactment of the Sinter Klaas episode,

we headed out for dinner. I foolishly, yet predictably, took the challenge of surfing the giant clog boat, which wasn't as firmly tethered as I'd previously thought. After a bit of image processing, one may be able to get some appreciation of my self-inflicted predicament:

I emerged dry, and on we went for dinner at an Argentinian steakhouse,

then, in search of further foolish hijinx, to the giant clog (the landlocked one)

and the lions

and off to recount our adventures in a nice little bar, where they were kind enough to play Living on a Prayer for me. Twice.

A very amusing night.

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The next day we had time for one more croket

before embarking back to Britain. But the foolishness didn't stop there.

What a mini-break!

2006-01-04T21:22:00.000Z

Pembroke Christmas dinner

Not a lot to be said. It's been a good term at Pembroke so it was nice to wrap it up in a dignified manner.

2005-12-02T04:19:00.000Z

London IV

It was a long time coming, but had to happen at some point; a triumphant return to my adopted home-nation capital, armed with the wisdom of my cornucopia of experiences accumulated since I last cast myself on the mercy of Olde London Townne.

A most fortuitous and only very briefly anticipated intersection of spatio-temporal loci with Dad meant we could trade anecdotes over a few pints of London Pride and some Nouveau Zealish cuisine for dinner near Marble Arch before he continued on to the logical next stop in a 4-day world tour, Utah.

Twas thence upon the tube I jump'd, to Clapham Common and the venerable Meehans, another brief re-'cquainting before my itchy feet drove me further south, past the autumning Common,

into the hands of MJ, of "MJ Does Cambridge" Calendar 2007 fame, from whence I was delivered to the Borough Markets.

Mmmm yum a feast of gourmet food to try, Caerphilly cheese, salsiccia, Celtic sea salt, stuffed olives, oregano and rye sourdough, fresh crustaceans, marinated artichokes, fudge endorsed by the Hoff, chocolate brownies, and chorizo rolls (bah: sold out, when we'd already spent 15 minutes in the queue), but a worthy substitute presented itself: hot roast pork rolls with apple sauce... and gravy...

After ingesting this boa constrictor style to the view of the majestic Southwark Cathedral,

we decided to save the remainder of our spoils for dinner and trained it out to Greenwich to experience some of Britain's proud maritime heritage.

On top of the hill is the Greenwich Observatory, the site of demarcation of the meridian of the same name.

MJ wasn't very gracious about being allowed to keep the souvenir ticket.

From the hill, one is afforded an excellent view north over Canary Wharf, the Docklands and Britain's greatest public-spending whipping-post, the Millenium Dome.

Back down the hill, we went to the Maritime Museum and learnt more of Britain's naval and mercantile past, then down to the river to see Cutty Sark:

Here is the bread we scored at the markets earlier in the day (note whole spears of oregano wedged in it... mmmm):

and I'll tell you what, torn up and soaked in chorizo fat, it made a very fine meal indeed, yes sirree, no doubt about that. MJ, flagging after the days excitement or perhaps as a result of the chorizo-fat-dipping exercise, declined to join me for the evening's entertainment, so I tubed to Pimlico alone, to meet my Cambridge co-researcher, Ignacio, of earlier spoonwaving reknown on this blog, and his Spanish and American colleagues for a night of scholarly contemplation.

A rock club near Piccadilly circus turned out to be an inappropriate venue for such highminded intercourse, so we were obliged to assimilate.

The night concluded with a mandatory kebab:

a quick admire of the Christmas lights and a final group shot,

and the trusty night bus home.

Matching Saturday's achievements on Sunday would have been a tall order so a more subdued day was had by all, making it to Camden in the late afternoon,

before returning to Cambridge to farewell the newly minted Dr Thanassis Zisis, who returns to Athens to commence postdoctoral research work there. No doubt he was as sad to be leaving us as we are to see him go, but he put on a brave face.

2005-10-24T14:23:00.000Z

Wales Weekend

Before returning to Cambridge, Mum spent a couple of days in London on the way back from Paris. With plans in place to go to Wales for the weekend, I prepared myself for the journey by going out with housemate Kieran for a big one for his birthday (final bottle of wine after going home from Vaults definitely was not necessary). Nonetheless, by 3:30 on Friday, we were armed with a hire car and ready to go. The trip to Cardiff was pretty slow thanks to M11 and M4 traffic, but we made it safely, having enjoyed a delightful Burger King meal at a wonderfully atmospheric roadside food and entertainment complex (all the soul of an airport departure lounge or train-station, but with cars).
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We sprang up bright and early the next morning and drove into the "city"centre in Cardiff. Strolled about town, taking in the sights and delights,

(Apparently, a goat major is the guy who looks after the regimental goat, specifically so in the case of the Royal Welch Fusiliers who have a caprine tradition dating back to 1775)

Brains is the Welsh national beer, ironically named, in terms of being a beer, I mean, not in terms of being Welsh.

Wandered past Cardiff Castle, and around Bute Park,

then on to the Art Gallery.

Saw an exhibition entitled "Victorian Dreamers", Pre-Raphaelites and what-have-you from various collections in Wales, presumably initially funded from the proceeds of coalmines and steelworks.

Also checked out the nice collection of Impressionist paintings, including some by Sisley who lived in Wales for a while,

and some excellent Monets.

What a strange and wonderful world we live in that we go to Wales to see French pictures of Venice. The endowment of impressionist paintings from the collectors Margaret and Gwendoline Davies means that Cardiff has probably the best impressionist selection in the UK outside of London. Similarly, the endowment by Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn of various Dutch, Italian, renaissance, baroque etc paitings gives Cardiff a gallery worthy of a European capital.
Noted a study for the Wheel of Fortune by Burne-Jones, one of a number by him - one is in the NGV in Melbourne and another is in the Musee d'Orsay.

Drove into the hills north of Cardiff to Castell Coch, a medieaval fantasy built by another "Victorian Dreamer" Lord Bute, who could afford to indulge his knights-and-castles whims because he owned most of the ports at Cardiff through which vast amounts of coal was shipped.

Had an authentic Welsh lunch of lamb cawl and bara brith (welsh fruitcake, literally speckled bread),

then checked out the Castel

The countryside around was beautiful, more like parts of Germany than like what i'm used to in England (in the fens anyway).

Driving further north, we went through the Rhondda Valley and had a good old chortle about Mum's name.

The mines have closed now but the area still celebrates its colliery heritage.

Next stop, the town of Caerphilly famed for its Castle, situated on an island in a lake, looking pretty spectacular in the late afternoon light.

Went down to the regentrified Cardiff Bay area for dinner.

This is a Norwegian church, a throwback to the days when the port attracted workers and sailors from all over the place, and the place where Roald Dahl was baptised. Norway, whilst never having any colonies of its own (unless you count Newfoundland, and for that matter England and Ireland, in the days of the vikings), has always played a big role in nautical activities and contributed more than its share of sailors many of whom came through Cardiff.

Had a look at the new Millenium arts centre which is pretty speccy.

Called it a day, despite some issues getting the car out of the carpark after we'd basically been parked in. Started reading The White Earth by Andrew McGahan which was so compelling that i finished it in one sitting - a fantastic, at times chilling, evocation of the essence of the Australian bush & outback and exploration of connection-with-the-land.
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Mum had heard from a Welsh taxi-driver in Cambridge that the place to go for scenic seaside sightseeing in Wales is Barry. That may be; it was hard to tell how scenic Barry was through the fog and driving rain. In retrospect, it would have been good to go the previous evening when the weather was slightly more conducive to seaside activities.

Had a stroll out to the headland to observe the Turner-esque sky:

searched in vain for a stick of Barry Rock that had i found it would have completed the naff British seaside experience, then got in the car: "Let us never speak of Barry again".

We drove through the Brecon Beacons, which were gorgeous.

Stopped for lunch in the town of Brecon

and had a look at Brecon Cathedral.

Drove through Monmouth and down the Wye Valley

to Tintern Abbey.

Drove back through the Cotswolds, though unfortunately the weather was pretty inclement so could attain very limited appreciation of their oft-vaunted scenery. Stopped off in Oxford for dinner (giant Yorkshire pudding - come to papa) and to enable me to walk around saying how Cambridge is soooooo much nicer. Reserving judgement until i can go back during the day and have a proper look around. Zoomed down the M4, M25 and M11 back to Cam to deliver Mum to her BnB.

2005-10-24T14:20:00.000Z

Paris

Mum and I got the train to London to board the Eurostar for Paris. On arrival, we got cashed up and sorted with metro passes and Carte Musée et Monuments pour 3 jours consécutifs, then the challenge, to visit as many of the 35 musées et monuments in the tres jours, began.

Having located our hotel near Porte de St Oeun, we caught the train to Champs Elysees,

checked out the Tour de Eiffel,

strolled along the Seine enjoying the beautiful evening

past a few ponts

and the Assemblee Nationale,

to the Musee d'Orsay.

Highlights there were the art nouveau furniture,

and Alexandre Cabanel's Birth of Venus.

Back on the metro, a couple of 1664s and called it a day. With une jour down, for a return of only une musee, there was some serious work to be done in the following days.
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Up at the crack of dawn and to the Montmartre to see the Basilica de Sacre Coeur,

Strolled south, stopping briefly to admire some of Hector Guimard's Metro handiwork, before continuing to the Musee Gustave Moreau,

the former home and studio of the Symbolist painter, which featured a large number of his early studies of famous paintings and later works both complete and incomplete.

Next stop the Ile de la Cite and the St Chapelle, a 13th century gothic cathedral that is spectacular both inside, and out.

Heading east to the Place de Notre Dame,
where we descended into the bowels of the earth to visit the Crypte Archaeologie, which featured a history of the city from Roman and Merovingian times.

Upon returning to the surface we ventured south into the 5th arrondissement, the Latin quarter, ate our baguettes in the sunshine and walked up the hill toward the Pantheon.

Originally built by Soufflot as the Church of St Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, it's purpose was altered after the French Revolution to become a secular monument to the great men (and women, but mainly men...) of France.

The walls feature a whole lot of murals by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes ands others, depicting the life of St Genevieve and various other tales.

Looked at Foucault's pendulum, checked that it was changing direction and that the earth was still spinning properly,

then went down into the crypt where lots of famous people are buried: Rousseau, Voltaire, Marie Curie, Marat, Langevin, Bougainville et alia.

Walked down Rue Soufflot to Jardin de Luxembourg,

then headed to the Musee de Moyen-Age at Thermes de Cluny, the middle ages museum located in what used to be a Cluniac abbey and the ruins of 3c Gallic-Roman baths.

Highlights were The Lady and the Unicorn tapestry and the original inspiration for Foghorn Leghorn. I say, that's a joke, son.

This used to be the Frigidarium, the cold bath room.

Back to Ile-de-la-Cite to see Notre Dame. After a short but painful (family of Australian bogans directly behind us) wait in the queue, we climbed up and up and up,

to check out the fabulous view and the funky gargoyles.

Had a peep inside the church also, though that's free to get into, so it didn't count as a museum on our card, so i wasn't keen on sticking around for long.

Had a bit of a rest and a quiet drink at a streetside cafe. 12euros80 for one beer and one lemon squash. Heavens above. Thankfully we had some entertainment as the manager shouted at beggars who were accosting the patrons. After paying for the drinks i seriously considered doing some begging myself.

Found ourselves some crepes for dinner and took them to the tuileries,

where we scored some seats by the fountain pond, enabling us to enjoy several idle, idyllic moments,

before sprinting to the Louvre,

the king of the Paris museums, the one that even the idiots go to ("Umm, excuse me, can you tell me which room the curator got murdered in?"),

Fantastic as expected. Mum was kind of relieved that some of the wings were already shut for the evening.

Highlights: Theodore Gericault's Raft of the Medusa

and Veronese's Wedding at Cana (arguably the most, relatively, neglected and overlooked painting in the world, as it sits opposite La Joconde)

Back to hotel to reflect on the day's achievements over several 1664s: 7 musees for our second day, a creditable performance.
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The continuing clear weather afforded nice views from our hotel window,

Not exactly the Champs Elysees but probably a more appropriate reflection of life and environs for most of Paris' 12 million inhabitants.

First stop was the Musee Rodin,

It's great being able to see a bunch of his small works, studies, paintings etc inside the house, then to stroll about the gardens and see the fullsize statues, The Thinker, Balzac, Burghers of Calais, etc.

On to the Hotel l'Invalides,

where we visited the Musee de la Armee, which featured amongst other things a display of uniforms and weaponry from Louis XIII to WWII, and the Musee de Plans-Reliefs, a collection of scale models of different sections of France, initially made for Napoleon's strategic military purposes. This is Mont St Michel:

Visited the Tombeau Napoleon, where Napoleon's body has lain since 1861, having been repatriated from St Helena in 1840.

Our next museum was a little less conventional: the Egouts des Paris, the sewers, apart from being a bit stenchy, was very interesting, both from a technological and a cultural/social history/public health point of view.

Back out in the fresh air, we went over to the Palais Chaillot and had lunch in the Trocadero gardens,

then checked out the Musee de la Marine at Palais Chaillot,

before getting the train out to Versailles,

After wandering throught the main palais, we walked down through the enormous gardens

to Le Grand Trianon,
and Le Petit Trianon.

These are much less ostentatious and accordingly preferable, in my humble (yet correct) aesthetic opinion, to the main palace. Moseyed back along the edge of the gardens as afternoon turned to evening.

Train back to Paris and zipped along to the Musee de Arte Moderne at Centre Pompidou.

Excellent view over the city to Sacre Couer.

We rested our weary legs over a glass of wine and dinner at the nearby Le Chevalier Bleu (geddit - The Blue Rider ie. Der Blaue Reiter - Kandinsky and co - artists, right? Next to the art gallery. mmm) Good steak as well as a clever name.

Traipsed back to hotel, obligatory 1664s, reflections on final musee challenge day: 10 museums/monuments, bringing the total to 18 for the 3 days, a respectable achievement we felt.
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On our final morning, with our musee visiting work completed, we could afford a relaxed breakfast. Strolled through Les Puces de Paris Saint-Ouen, the flea markets (the colour puce is in fact named after fleas, being the colour of them - think about that the next time you're trying to decide between puce and Mountbatten pink).

As Mum noted, they were a far cry from the haute couturiers we'd strolled past near the Eiffel tower on our first afternoon, but interesting nonetheless. Had some croissants, packed our bags and limped onto the Eurostar, after a mighty effort in Paris. Glorious weather, awe-inspiring art, grand history, tasty food, fine company in one of the most exciting cities in Europe - tres magnifique!

2005-10-20T14:27:00.000Z

No sooner than i'd returned from the US of A, and whilst still struggling to readjust the bodily clock, I was host to Mary-Jane up in Cambridge on a 'mini-break'. Having I secretly delight in the opportunity to be a tourist here, rather than the normal act of a jaded pah-Kings-College-take-it-or-leave-it local.

So we went to see some punts at the Millpond,

and had an ale at ye olde authenticke pubbe.

The secret challenge for me was to obtain enough photos of MJ in front of Cambridge landmarks or doing Cambridge-y things to produce a 2006 calendar. So with those two down and 10 to go, some work had to be done. Here are the fruits of my surreptitious labours:

MJ in front of Kings College (with some fudge from the Famous Fudge Shop)

MJ and the River Cam

MJ with an esteemed Cambridge University researcher

MJ in front of Clare College

MJ at Trinity College

MJ at Pembroke

MJ at the Fitzwilliam

MJ at the train station (clutching at straws here...)

OK count em... only 10, unfortunately. So you'll have to wait around til 2007 for the calendar. Make sure you do though: it'll clearly be worth it.

Inspired by all this Cambridg-abilia, i went to visit Kings College Chapel, having not been inside it previously. The outside was looking particularly splendid in the sunshine:

as was I:
The inside is really spectacular (of the chapel, that is). Unfortunately, photos are not allowed so i can't share any with you. But, thanks to a less respectful person, who flagrantly disregarded this rule, then had the hide to post his handiwork on the internet, you can have a bit of a look at the Rubens altarpiece and stainglass windows:

Making the most of what would turn out to be the last really nice summery day in Cambridge for the season, I moseyed across Jesus Green and Midsummer Common,
down to the river, which was looking most bucolic,

and read until the sun set.

Bye bye summer, fare thee well.