A really fascinating article, Pearls before breakfast from the Washington Post Magazine. The paper set up a fly-on-the-wall experiment. Joshua Bell, one of the most celebrated violists in the world, is asked to busk at a metro station. You would have to pay hundreds to see him perform at close quarters. What do you think happened at the train station during peak hour?
Thanks to Terry Tao for pointing out the link.
Here we are! Oooh, and a giant sign to tell us so.
And here is the sign in its entirety. The sign/sculpture is at Museumplein (Museum Square) near the Van Gogh museum. There is an ‘I amsterdam‘ tourism campaign. I like the small pun.
I am Joan!
Here are the most Amsterdamish modes of transport — canal boats and bicycles.
And tiny putt-putt cars. These Canta LX cars are everywhere.
Amsterdam is Bicycle Capital. Cambridge and Oxford have NOTHING on Amsterdam. I have never seen so many bicycles. There were lots of strange ones but I only got a picture of this one. I saw one rider with a child in front, a baby at the back and a dog in the pouch.
Obviously, bicycle theft is rife so there is a roaring trade in bicycle locks.
And, apparently, a similar crime spree for outdoor furniture theft, too.
I found this little clog at Albert Cuypmarkt, where my parents and I went to by fruit and nuts.
I learned something at the Jewish flea market in Amsterdam.
Other things you can buy at the market — hash pops.
And cannabis lollies. The signs made me giggle. I like puns, remember. Why is the sign in English? It must be for the benefit of the tourists. Nearly all Dutch people under a certain age speak some level of English as well.
Speaking of clichés and stereotypes, what’s with this bar? Slanderous!
Amsterdam is home to some of the most famous art in the world by Rembrandt, Van Gogh and Vermeer. The whole time we were in Amsterdam, we didn’t step into a museum once. We did enjoy the free street art, though. This was just off a main road.
Someone or some people seem to have decided to use temporary construction fencing in Vondelpark for a modern art installation…
More ‘art’, this time the lights in our hotel room.
Amsterdam is full of really interesting buildings, old and new. You can see in this photo the hooks on the roof of each house. Lots of houses have them. The hooks are used to hoist things to the upper floors of a house. This is necessary because houses in Amsterdam are narrow and their staircases are narrower. In fact, Amsterdam claims to have the narrowest house in the world. A curious by-product of this hoist system is that many Amsterdam houses have a distinct forward lean so that things being hoisted up don’t bang against the walls.
I have no idea what ‘BELT U EVEN’ means. It might be English or it might not be.
…Ah! I’ve just put ‘belt u even’ into Babel Fish. The translation from Dutch to English is ‘you ring just as’.
I don’t take a lot of (good) photos of birds and animals. Here are a few I got during the birds of prey demonstration at Warwick Castle, which I visited last fortnight. By the way, did you know that North Americans don’t use the term ‘fortnight‘? They don’t know what it means.
I’m back from Amsterdam and Paris but am very bogged down with work. I will entertain with just one photo. I took this one near Thirlmere, a lake in the Lakes District. The ‘whoosh’ effect is because I zoomed during a long shutter speed.
I’ll have some things to write about visiting The Continent (red light districts, hash pops, more crêpes). It was a lot of fun and I was sad to see my parents go through the gate at the airport.
We were walking towards the York Minster when someone called, ‘Do you want ice-cream?’
Without breaking stride, I detoured to stand in front of Frankie’s Real Dairy Ice Cream cart.
‘Hmm…’ I considered the sign that said that I could have two scoops for the price of one. ‘Is it nice ice cream? I’ve had Italian ice cream before, you know.’ I was warning of him of my standards.
Frankie’s friend was a lanky redhead with quirky purple glasses. She was leaning against the cart. ‘Oh, yes!’ she said, nodding enthusiastically. ‘It’s the best! Look! He has raspberry ripple. Not many people have raspberry ripple.’
‘Hmm…’ I repeated. I peered into the ice cream buckets. ‘And how much is it for ice cream?’
‘One pound forty,’ said Frankie. ‘You get an extra scoop for free. You can choose any flavour!’
I thought about it. ‘I don’t really feel like ice cream, though,’ I murmured to myself. And £1.40 was not the bargain they made it out to be.
I stood there for another ten seconds before taking a step back. ‘Sorry. Thanks for the selling effort, though.’ I had disappointed them.
An hour later, after visiting the Minster and the Shambles, I found myself back within five metres of Frankie’s cart.
‘Mum, dad, I’m going to get some ice cream,’ I said.
‘Whatever you want,’ they said indulgently.
I trotted up to the cart and announced, ‘I feel like ice cream now.’ I walked back to my parents with a double scoop of raspberry ripple and mint choc chip.
‘They were so excited to see you,’ mum laughed. ‘They must be happy to get a customer.’
I nodded gravely. ‘Half the reason I bought the ice cream was that I knew they would be happy.’ I licked the ice cream. It was yummy, although no ice cream in England — even the famous Cornwall ice cream — has been as good as Trampoline gelato in Melbourne.
Much later in the day, as we were walking towards dinner, I walked by the ice cream cart again. Frankie must have recognised my furry hat because he waved to me from across the courtyard. I waved back to my ice cream friend.
I am in a bed-and-breakfast in Warwick, a small Tudor town in the middle of England. My parents and I have spent the last three days at Stonehenge, in Bath and at Warwick Castle. The castle was particularly enjoyable — we spent 5.5 hours there. It’s like a medieval theme park in a real historic setting. Stonehenge was less impressive; we made the mistake of going on a sunny Good Friday holiday so were stuck in a traffic jam for more than an hour, just two miles from the site. It wasn’t a waste of time, though. The audio tour makes all the difference.
Stonehenge on a beautiful spring day.
There were lots of tourists, all posing and taking photos. I’m kind of sad that every tourist seems to have a camera and is mindlessly snapping away. I can’t actually complain because I probably do it as well. It just feels like the way people hunt and take trophy animals; they’re taking trophy photos to prove that they were here.
Anyway, what I meant to write is that I like this little guy’s way of posing.
One of the younger tourists-with-cameras.
Warwick Castle is very impressive. I don’t have a photo of it in its entirety because I used a telephoto lens today (and was too lazy to change it). Hopefully, I will get some good photos of it from my parent’s camera. Here I am in front of the Castle Mound.
The Warwick Bowman was very funny. He was the highlight of the visit. If he was a rock star, I would be a groupie. Here he is, demonstrating to Alex (the boy) and the crowd how inadequate bowman armour is for protecting people against a sword strike to the neck.
We were lucky in that I accidentally arranged to be at Warwick Castle on the Easter weekend. Easter Sunday (today) is the anniversary of the death of the Earl of Warwick in the Battle of Barnet in 1471. Today, there was a full scale re-enactment of a siege battle. It’s actually less riveting than you might expect but I appreciate the effort the actors have gone to. The armour is really heavy and hot, especially on a warm day like today.
I am not sure why there were women on the battlefield. These women had come down from the ‘camp’. We visited earlier and the actors were lying around, cooking or making armour and shoes. They cook pheasant, rabbit and bread and eat it throughout the day! Imagine getting paid to do that! Dress up in costumes, relax in tents and eat!
My parents are visiting me. All the important stuff is done — I’ve shown them around Cambridge and mum has fed me homecooked genuine Chinese food. Tomorrow, we’re starting a nine day car trip all around England. We’re going to:
You won’t be hearing from me for a while, then.
An early version of the trip. We might not make it to Oxford, though. It doesn’t matter. Oxford is the poor man’s Cambridge. We’re also going to London later, right before we take a cheap and unsustainable flight to Amsterdam, then Paris.
You’ll find me looking like this all over the countryside: furry hat, camera, and an apple in my mouth. This photo was taken by Nitin on his mobile phone camera in Bath.
Finally, I got this link from Tristan. This junction is just north of my department. It’s a sight to look forward to when the undergraduates get back next term. Viva la bike!
This sculpture was in the Outside Biome of the Eden Project. I really like it. It’s called ‘The WEEE Man‘. WEEE stands for ‘Waste Electrical & Electronic Equipment’, one of the more amusing acronyms in the sustainability field. It comes from the European Union WEEE Directive, which puts the responsibility of collecting and disposing of WEEE on the manufacturers.
The WEEE Man is made up of the amound and types of waste electrical and electronic products that an average UK citizen throws away in his or her lifetime. The sculpture is seven metres tall and quite impressive ‘in person’.
I was pleased with the explantory notes on the car bonnet next to the WEEE man. The writer had correctly identified that the greatest environmental impact in the lifecycle of a car is when it is being driven around. The manufacturing and disposal impacts are relatively minor. If you have an old bomb, you would be doing the environment a favour by getting rid of it and buying a more efficient new car.
This gives rise to the counter-intuitive notion that car manufacturers should design for performance, and limit a car’s durability. We don’t really want to let people drive around a ten or twelve year old car.
As is now semi-customary, Damjan and I had dinner at Food for Thought, a vegetarian restaurant on Neal Street in the Covent Garden district. They cook large quantities of a limited and daily varying menu. When it runs out, they cross it from the menu. The food is hearty, tasty, healthy and good value.
On Saturday, we were fed caponata di melanzane, (caponata of eggplant). It was soooo delicious. I looked up the recipe on the internet.
Today, I made my own variation — caponata di salsiccia, if such a thing can exist. Instead of using eggplants, I used pork sausages.
*Serves one poor and hungry student*
Fry garlic and onion until onion is soft. Add sausages and fry until light brown. Add chilli. Add chopped tomatoes. Simmer for some time (5-10 minutes?). Mix in olives and herbs. Simmer and add salt to taste.
For the three mornings we were in Cornwall, I got up to go for a walk on the beach. On the final morning, I walked with Gráinne and Amanda. When we turned to go back, I looked at our incoming footprints.
The set furthest away from the ocean belonged to Amanda.
‘Your footprints are quite deep,’ I commented, surprised because Amanda is a smallish person.
‘I’m wearing boots,’ she explained.
Gráinne’s footprints were slimmer and lighter. I glanced at her feet and wondered how her white shoes had stayed white during the field trip.
‘Your footprints are deep at the toe,’ they pointed out to me.
I thought about this for a while. ‘It might be because of my dancing. I’m always getting told to push off from my toes.’ I felt pleased that my dance practicing had translated to my beach walking technique.
‘Hey! I’ve got an idea! People could dance on the beach to see if they’re getting their dance steps and footwork right!’
I immediately launched into a samba walk. ‘One. a-Two. One. a-Two…’
I stopped to look back at my trail. ‘Woohoo!’ I shouted. My footprints were properly turned out and deep in the toe. Success!
The most active members of my course got up for a 7 AM jog and swim in the cold Atlantic. Brrr!
We were more civilised and went clambering over the rocks.