Filigree and Oils

Washington Irving spoke Spanish. Not only did he speak Spanish, he spoke it fluently. I never knew that. I thought he wrote the Tales of Sleepy Hollow, etc. and that was the end of the story.

Not at all.

It took me going to the Alhambra, a Moorish fortification in Granada, to learn more of his story. He lived at the Alhambra. I saw his room – a bare, somewhat ugly room: four walls, two doors, a large window, dark stone floors, plain white walls. Apparently he was ambassador to Spain in the 1800s.

But I haven’t told you about the Alhambra, have I? So silly of me. Well, it’s one of the most popular tourist attractions in all of Spain. So, naturally, I didn’t buy my ticket in advance. I didn’t know, you see, if I was going to go on Thursday night or Friday morning. Since I was too exhausted to go on Thursday night, it had to wait until Friday morning.

I was out of the house by seven. My GPS proved invaluable for ascending the mountain the Alhambra stands on, but it was no good to navigate the parking lots. I parked in the one closest to the entrance (perks of being early!) and retrieved my backpack from the trunk.

Not having bought a ticket, I had to get there early to stand in line. Line-standing is an interesting experience in a popular tourist attraction in Spain. You get to see how Americans act if they’re in a group versus how the rest of the world acts when they’re in a group. We do ourselves and our country’s reputation no favors, let me tell you.

Anyway, by 8 or so the place opened and we could buy our tickets. I was about 20 people back in a line that stretched around the ticket office, zig-zagged a good deal, and went down a hill. Another perk of being early.

According to Wikipedia, the Alhambra’s name simply means “The red one.” The origins of its name are disputed, as is pretty much everything here, but the walls are red so we think that’s one possible explanation. Also according to Wikipedia,

It was originally constructed as a small fortress in AD 889 on the remains of Roman fortifications, and then largely ignored until its ruins were renovated and rebuilt in the mid-13th century by the Arab emir Mohammed ben Al-Ahmar of the Emirate of Granada, who built its current palace and walls. It was converted into a royal palace in 1333 by Yusuf I, Sultan of Granada. After the conclusion of the Christian Reconquista in 1492, the site became the Royal Court of Ferdinand and Isabella (where Christopher Columbus received royal endorsement for his expedition), and the palaces were partially altered in the Renaissance style.

That simultaneously tells you nothing and everything about the Alhambra.

I got myself an audio guide, stowed my water in my backpack, and set off. Even in the early morning, it was a warm day, and muggy. The red dirt paths were just damp enough to not be dusty, and the clear ripple of running water provided a nice cover for the steady murmur of the visitors’ chatter.

It took a little while to figure out where I was going. The place is vast. It was, after all, a palace, a village, a garrison, and a thriving business center all rolled into one. I finally figured out where I was going, and meandered through the gardens on my way to the Generalife (pronounced hen-er-ahl-EE-fay), the summer palace of the Sultans of the Alhambra.

The generalife commands a sweeping view of the rest of the Alhambra, as well as the valleys below. It's a quiet, cool area replete with fountains and running water.

It's here that the filigree comes into play. The entire Alhambra is covered in delicate carvings and swirling calligraphy. Islam dictates that no images be used in Muslim art, so the decorations are of intricate geometric designs and verses from the Qur'an or the poets. It looks like stone lace.

By nature humans are oily creatures, and too much touching has the unfortunate result of breaking down stone and ruining the designs. (There was some intentional damage as well, but the real threat now is from curious visitors who just can't resist the urge to touch everything.)

This "Please Touch" panel is meant to cater to the compulsive touchers as well as the simply curious. I fell into the latter category until I saw the "Please Touch" panel; then, I was a compulsive toucher. I love touching things. (Touch is a weird word. I'm getting a squiggly red line under "toucher" and the whole concept of touching is seeming less and less like a real word.) 

It was beautiful. Don't let the pictures fool you: there were lots of people. I just tried to wait until most of them were hidden by the arches, and I tried to stay ahead of the packs.

The bottom right photo is of the water stair. It's a regular staircase, with upside-down roof tiles on either side. This lets water flow on either side of the stairs, falling from one roof tile to the next, the different bumps lending slightly different tones to the water. Or something like that. In any case, I liked it.

I wandered through to the Medina next, the area where artisans and servants lived in the days of the Sultans. It was a pretty place, the golden sun slanting through the trees and burning off the light mistiness of morning. It's all ruins now, all the houses and shops.





This is the gate that Ferdinand and Isabella's army poured through when Boabdil, the last Sultan of Granada, capitulated. Or, rather, it's the reconstruction of said gate. The thing lasted until Napoleon's army besieged the Alhambra with cannons and broke down the wall. I always knew Napoleon was an idiot.

         

Moving on. I turned my map every which way until I found two points to use as reference, and to my surprise I didn't get lost. I was on my way to the Nasrid Palaces, the palaces of the Sultans of Granada. On the way, I saw a bathhouse (Moorish Baths were the natural descendants of Roman Baths, but I daresay they were cleaner than their predecessors).

Channels of water run through the streets, to make washing feet easier before going to prayer. This is a staple of Moorish architecture. The channels are no wider than a person's foot. I can only imagine the logistical nightmare of creating a system of channels where the water is always running downhill at just the right angle to be slow and sedate.

This is the section of the Alhambra that is still in use, with shops lining the street and cars beeping and honking their way up and down the narrow streets. It's quite a different atmosphere from the quiet ruins and carved arches in the Generalife up on the hill.

Cats were in the weirdest places in the Alhambra,
all statue-still and slowly blinking their shrewd golden eyes.

The Nasrid Palaces could not have been more different to the Palace of Charles V. King Chuck apparently wanted a life of luxury and opulence, surrounded by pillars and overly carved Baroque architecture. And I do mean surrounded.

The palace was never lived in; it was not even completed. It's used today as a stage and as a museum of the Alhambra. I liked to see the different exhibits, but I absolutely loved climbing the wide, sweeping stairs. No one else realized they could go upstairs, and I had the upper gallery all to myself, with the exception of some workmen who were preparing for a concert.

The Nasrid Palaces, on the other hand, were light and airy - none of this heavy Baroque nonsense. The walls and ceilings were covered in tiles and carved wood.

   



In the courtyards, swifts dived and swooped. Their chirps and cries were sharp and high. Some wheeled and turned, always returning to their nests tucked into the ancient filigreed arches. They've been there for centuries.


The perfectly still water in the Court of the Myrtles reflected the carved battlements like a mirror. Two matching fountains bubbled quietly at either end of the pool, fed by the channels crisscrossing the floors. Somehow, they didn't disturb the sheet of water.




My path took me through the decorated halls, through Washington Irving's rooms, and to a small square room. The ceiling is ornate, with stone "stalactites" and a blue-and-white color scheme. Some of the decoration is damaged, a reminder of the time that Napoleon (remember what an idiot he was? Good.) stored gunpowder in it and it exploded. This is a small destruction indeed considering that he meant to blow up the complex entirely as retribution in a war he started to put his brother on the throne of Spain, but it's still a pity.

The next stop on my journey through the Nasrid Palaces was the Court of the Lions. There is a fountain in the middle, supported by twelve distinctly carved lions. The fountain feeds more channels in the floor. The entire courtyard is covered in geometric patterns and calligraphy.





















My time in the Alhambra was almost at an end. I took some time to appreciate a courtyard garden and the fantastic view from the palaces.  I found my way back to the visitor center, navigated the line of impatient tourists to return my audioguide, and figured out how to pay for parking, alongside a fellow tourist who was just as confused as I was.

(To be continued...Friday is too long to put in one post.)

Second Day of London

I woke up with a start on Friday morning. It was two minutes past when my alarm should have gone off. Considering the fact that it was also six hours behind (or ahead of - my sister and I never could agree on that) the time that my alarm normally went off, I apparently have adjusted to the time difference rather quickly.

To misquote A.A. Milne, it was a blistery day in the (several thousand) acre city. We walked. And we walked. And we walked. Despite the blisters and the soreness, it was a wonderful day.

We saw the Tower of London, something that both Joy and I have dreamed about for years.

My mom went to England years ago for her high school senior trip, so she has some memories of a lot of the places we've been going. But even for her the Crown Jewels were a surprise and a delight - they had changed the display, and installed conveyor belts for viewers!

Photography not being permitted, this is not my picture.

Something I thought was fascinating about the whole display was the care taken to explain what each piece stands for. I may not be able to give a recital of their meanings off the top of my head, but it was great to know what I was looking at when I was looking at it.

After the Crown Jewels, we had to go see the White Tower. Built in the eleventh century by good old William the Conqueror, the Norman Keep has survived the Blitz, Henry VIII, and even the tourists. Much of the space is dedicated to the Line of the Kings - a wonderful display detailing the armor, weapons, kings, and battles of various times in the history of England. Nooks and crannies were particularly photograph-able. 

You can't go to the Tower of London and see all these wonderful things without feeling a good deal of the weight of history.

Then, of course, we had to see Tower Bridge, as well as its inner workings. It was covered under the London Pass, which we got before we came (less money for what we want to see). Anyway, the bridge was incredibly complicated. We went up on the top and walked across, even over the glass overlooking the Thames and the lines of traffic on the bridge. This particular part of the exhibit was not ideal for a person as scared of heights as me. I can only imagine what it would do to a person with a real phobia of heights.




From there we went to the HMS Belfast, a cruiser that saw duty in WWII, the Korean War, and several other wars since. It is now a museum. I regret to say that we did indeed get lost - in the boiler room. I think it had less to do with us and more to do with the only exit being cordoned off. The ship is enormous. From the top of Tower Bridge it looked tiny; up close and personal it seemed endless.

By this time we were very hungry, so we stopped in a courtyard with a metal tree and for-hire ping pong tables and had our packed sandwiches. I don't get the whole metal-tree thing. It seems to me that real trees help provide more oxygen, but I just might be wrong.

Westminster Abbey was next on the agenda, but we got there just before 3:30 and they had already let in the last group. Apparently promptness can be retroactive. So we hung around, took a picture in front of Churchill's statue, paid for public toilets and refilled our water bottles from the sink (it's clean water), took pictures of absolutely everything, and took a selfie in front of the Houses of Parliament.

We returned to Westminster Abbey for Evensong, one of the highlights of our visit. It was beautiful, and worshipful as well. It was a sung Evensong, which means that it's pretty much all sung except the Scripture readings and some prayers. On the way in to Evensong, we passed the monument to William Wilberforce, the driving force behind the abolition of slavery in the 1800s.

While there will inevitably be major differences, I do want my epitaph or obituary to speak of me in the same tone. The epitaph is long; there can be no denying that. But it is worth the read.

TO THE MEMORY OF WILLIAM WILBERFORCE (BORN IN HULL AUGUST 24th 1759, DIED IN LONDON JULY 29th 1833;) FOR NEARLY HALF A CENTURY A MEMBER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, AND, FOR SIX PARLIAMENTS DURING THAT PERIOD, ONE OF THE TWO REPRESENTATIVES FOR YORKSHIRE. IN AN AGE AND COUNTRY FERTILE IN GREAT AND GOOD MEN, HE WAS AMONG THE FOREMOST OF THOSE WHO FIXED THE CHARACTER OF THEIR TIMES; BECAUSE TO HIGH AND VARIOUS TALENTS, TO WARM BENEVOLENCE, AND TO UNIVERSAL CANDOUR, HE ADDED THE ABIDING ELOQUENCE OF A CHRISTIAN LIFE. EMINENT AS HE WAS IN EVERY DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC LABOUR, AND A LEADER IN EVERY WORK OF CHARITY, WHETHER TO RELIEVE THE TEMPORAL OR THE SPIRITUAL WANTS OF HIS FELLOW-MEN, HIS NAME WILL EVER BE SPECIALLY IDENTIFIED WITH THOSE EXERTIONS WHICH, BY THE BLESSING OF GOD, REMOVED FROM ENGLAND THE GUILT OF THE AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE, AND PREPARED THE WAY FOR THE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY IN EVERY COLONY OF THE EMPIRE: IN THE PROSECUTION OF THESE OBJECTS HE RELIED, NOT IN VAIN, ON GOD; BUT IN THE PROGRESS HE WAS CALLED TO ENDURE GREAT OBLOQUY AND GREAT OPPOSITION: HE OUTLIVED, HOWEVER, ALL ENMITY; AND IN THE EVENING OF HIS DAYS, WITHDREW FROM PUBLIC LIFE AND PUBLIC OBSERVATION TO THE BOSOM OF HIS FAMILY. YET HE DIED NOT UNNOTICED OR FORGOTTEN BY HIS COUNTRY: THE PEERS AND COMMONS OF ENGLAND, WITH THE LORD CHANCELLOR AND THE SPEAKER AT THEIR HEAD, IN SOLEMN PROCESSION FROM THEIR RESPECTIVE HOUSES, CARRIED HIM TO HIS FITTING PLACE AMONG THE MIGHTY DEAD AROUND, HERE TO REPOSE: TILL, THROUGH THE MERITS OF JESUS CHRIST, HIS ONLY REDEEMER AND SAVIOUR, (WHOM, IN HIS LIFE AND IN HIS WRITINGS HE HAD DESIRED TO GLORIFY,) HE SHALL RISE IN THE RESURRECTION OF THE JUST.

Talk about a glowing report! Considering the bitter opposition he faced in Parliament, to be thus honored is quite remarkable.

After Westminster Abbey, we went to the British Museum for about an hour and a half. That is not enough time to see the history of humankind. We did manage, however, to see the exhibition about Roman and Saxon Britain, as well as some other things.

Like the Rosetta Stone:

 And a bust of some Pharaoh before Rameses that was appropriated and changed to reflect Rameses (isn't that violating copyright laws? Oh, wait...):

And the friezes of the Parthenon:

And the entrance statues (AKA guardsthingies) of Tiglath-Pileser:

By this time we were "exhaustificated" (Beckett speak for "a lot more exhausted than exhaustified, which in itself means a lot more exhausted than just 'exhausted.'"), so we just went to our hotel as quickly as possible. Of course we had to look in the gift shop first, but we didn't think anyone back at home would really want an eyeglass cleaner cloth shaped like the Rosetta Stone.

Ladywell and Fish & Chips

Considering the fact that the Tube was down and all buses took about 4 times as long as the Tube would normally take, the day yesterday went remarkably well. Our 8-hour flight was delayed by about 35 minutes, and we arrived only 15 minutes behind schedule.

You must remember, dear reader, that Heathrow has been called, at least by The Telegraph, the "worst airport in the world." That takes a bit of doing. So we were pleasantly surprised, to say the least, that border control took no longer than 30 minutes. We seemed to be always either on the short end of a long line, or the long end of a short line, for everything. It was nice.

The Tube being as nonexistent as it was, we had to take the Heathrow Express in to Paddington Station, from whence we took a bus to Victoria. (We passed the Wellington Arch on the way, but we were holding on for dear life and couldn't be bothered to take a picture.)




While this was happening, we were still stuck in traffic.

Then, when we got off the bus, we walked past the turning where were supposed to go, got some help from a friendly girl who grew up in Ladywell, and arrived at our hotel safe and sound and utterly overwhelmed.

While all this was happening, everyone was stuck in traffic.

Our hotel is a pleasant sort of place - not much in the way of room service or sheets or shampoo, but that's OK - situated in Belgravia. The neighborhood used to be "fields of no healthy aspect," then "infested by footpads and robbers," then the unsuccessful launching pad of one of the first ballooning expeditions in London (resulting in the accumulation of a great deal of money for the owner of the balloon and great destruction by those who paid for it). It then became the property of the Grosvener family, and then "a convenient place for quiet murder," but is now mainly comprised of hotels and office buildings.

So, after checking in to our hotel, we unpacked our backpacks to make sure we had enough room for food shopping and took ourselves off to Ladywell by bus.

The reason we were in Ladywell was this:

This is my Grandfather when he was a little boy. He lived in Ladywell as a child. I feel like it would be a travesty to come to England and not see where he lived. It's a quiet street, for all that it's a busy thoroughfare, surrounded by spires and old, shrapnel-damaged graveyards.

His house isn't there anymore - after the bombing of the Blitz, the area was rebuilt.

We had fish and chips in a little park near Ladywell, and spent quite a bit of time looking through the cemetery of the church that gave Ladywell its name - according to tradition, Our Lady appeared at a certain church well (hence Ladywell).

We saw the World War I monument dedicated to the brave men and women of Lewisham - the borough where Ladywell is.

Then we went back to our hotel. Still stuck in traffic.

All the same, that was all we could take the first day. It isn't easy to jump right into the flow of life when it's 6 hours different from your own.