5 July 2016
We got the bus to Tottenham Court Road and then walked to
the National Gallery, where we met Nat’s friend Ee Faye. Ee Faye studies in
Canada, is very petite with a high voice which is noticeably inflected with the
Canadian accent.
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The Dutch Flowers exhibition in the Gallery is our consolation
for missing the Kükenhof tulips in Amsterdam (they only bloom in spring, not
summer) and the paintings are so detailed and bursting with life and colour
that they come very close to reality. It was interesting to see the progression
of styles and how each painter chose to either copy or challenge their
predecessor – perhaps art, like the epic, has a necessarily cannibalistic
quality to it. Van Brussel was the one who first struck me with his accuracy
and realism, how he could make the petal of a red veined tulip translucent and
delicate but unabashedly there, I don’t
know. The sheer amount of flowers and other things he crammed into one canvas
was also all intentional; on one of his paintings the commentary read ‘if the
broken stem in the foreground hints at decay and rupture, the egg in the nest
symbolises new life’.
We went into the gallery with the Van Gogh paintings next,
where a group of school children sat before his paintings, drawing their own
versions of them. Despite having spent a long time in my last visit to the
National Gallery staring at A Wheatfield with Cypresses, I couldn’t help but be
drawn to it again.
I read in an essay by Wilhelm Uhde that ‘[Van Gogh’s] story
is not that of an eye, a palette, a
brush, but the tale of a lonely heart which beat within the walls of a dark
prison, longing and suffering without knowing why. Until one day it saw the
sun, and in the sun recognised the secret of life. It flew towards it and was
consumed in its rays’. I felt that more than in his other paintings, more even
than Sunflowers, A Wheatfield with Cypresses represents his obsession with the
sun, and whereas in previous paintings his turbulence was apparent, or his
search or glimpses of the sun, in at A Wheatfield with Cypresses he actually
finds it.
Yellow is in everything – the trees, the fields, the mountains, the
clouds, which means that although an actual representation of the sun is absent
from the painting, the sun is still everywhere. Although staring directly at
the sun is impossible and blinding, ultimately fatal to the eyes, one can catch
the sun by knowing that it is the sun that enables sight and by really, truly,
seeing. There is a peace in the painting from his use of complementary colours
(unlike the contrasting colours he uses in many other paintings to give
movement and life to the painting) which provides harmony and contentment, and
yet it does not mean movement is lacking from the painting as the golden fields
and cypresses and even the clouds and mountains shimmer and move through
impasto. There is a realness to the painting, not because of realism but because
of idealism, Van Gogh somehow so easily reaches into your heart and pulls out
the vision you’ve always had of that perfect place, puts it on canvas and says ‘I
believe in this too’.
We moved on to Monet and other impressionists after that,
and Nat loves Monet even more than Van Gogh, but we didn’t have too much time
to indulge because we realised that we had got the time for the start of our
free tour wrong, and that they had already started.
With some quick thinking,
we realised they would pass the National Gallery near the start of the tour,
and so we met them there, and joined the already begun tour. Possibly the best
thing I learnt that was that Henry VIII exploded
after he died, as a result of the fermentation of his last meal – peaches and
cider – in his stomach.
We ended the tour near Westminster, where there was a
demonstration against cuts in education, which I was glad Nat got to see
because I think marching is something rather English, more specifically,
good-natured marching, where you are buoyed with happiness at the understanding
that you are surrounded by people who support and care for the same cause as
you do.
We headed to Borough market for lunch, picking up Simren and
Reshem on the way and looking through a book sale along the South Bank.
Unfortunately, Borough Market was rather empty, and certainly less lively than
it had been when I was there last summer. Nat and I still managed to find
Ethiopian food though, which tasted great, and we met Hannah there too, and
walked back down the Southbank to beautiful St Pauls for Evensong.
As we were walking there, Hannah asked us about our tour,
and we told her about Henry VIII, and then she asked about our tour guide.
‘He actually worked in the Houses of Parliament before doing
tours,’ I said.
‘And he had 6 wives!’ Nat chipped in – she had our
tour guide confused with Henry VIII!
After St Paul’s we went up onto the roof of the nearby
building (One New Change) and lay in deck chairs in the sun and watched
Wimbledon (or journalled, as I did) until we were slightly sunburnt and ready
to go.
Simren decided to roast vegetables for dinner, which took
quite a while, so Nat and I decided to walk down to Sainsburys which was just 5
minutes away. As we were walking, we saw some free wristbands from a shop, and
we stopped to examine them. Then:
‘So you found it,’
I looked up to see a man, and I was puzzled for a second – Found
what? The wristbands? Then I realised he was one of the people who had given us
directions the day before! What serendipity!
6 July 2016
This morning we went to the VnA, where you feel like you
could travel the world twice over just by walking through its galleries. The
entire museum is light and airy and beautiful, and is much less crowded than
the National Gallery. I think it is harder to intellectually access and enjoy
artefacts as compared to artwork, but I was still fascinated by some of the
things there. First was a statue with a poem engraved on it that struck me as
very Christina-Rossetti like. Countess Emily Georgiana of Winchelsea and
Nottingham wrote it before she died, to comfort her husband after her death:
I
When the knell rung for the dying
soundeth for me
and my corpse coldly is lying
neath the green tree
II
When the turf strangers are heaping
covers my breast
Come not to gaze on me weeping
I am at rest
III
All my life coldly and sadly
The days have gone by
I who dreamed wildly and madly
am happy to die
IV
Long since my heart has been breaking
Its pain is past
A time has been set to its aching
Peace comes at last.
From the museum, we walked to Hyde Park, exploring the
extravagance that is Harrods on the way. Hyde Park looks somuch more joyful in
the sunshine, the Serpentine glitters blue and geese cover is and everyone lies
down and basks in the sunshine, which is what Nat and I did as well. When Nat
uncovered her eyes the world was all blue. Nat told me about a story she read
when she was younger, where the world was taken over by bears and humans were
their slaves. Humans could only escape if they reached Hyde Park, which was
spelled Hide Park in the book. She couldn’t remember its name, and I couldn’t
find the book on google, but Hyde Park did feel like freedom on that happy
summer day.
We got lunch from Vantra Vitao, my favourite food place in
London. It sells takeaway boxes which you stuff with anything from their buffet
of vegan curries, salads, and other dishes. I rather overstuffed my box in the
excitement to try everything! We sat on a bench in Soho Square to eat, and had
another proper conversation. I’m so thankful to have travelled with someone who
not only shares my interests and diet, but also doesn’t shy away from talking
about things that matter, weighty, troubling things. We talked also about what we’d
learnt from this trip, which has been rather enlightening for the both of us.
Then, we met Hannah at Yorica! for dessert. Yorica! is a
vegan froyo and ice-cream place, and it is truly amazing stuff. My chocolate and
vanilla froyo tasted more like soft serve, but the best soft serve I’ve ever
had in my life. Whilst we ate, Nat dared Hannah to wave to a man passing by.
She did, and after initial bemusement, he waved back! When we walked outside, a
man in the butchery beside Yorica waved to us, beckoning us inside to try some
of the meat he had just cut. ‘We’re vegan,’ we mouthed back, since he was on
the other side of a glass window. He, misunderstanding us, smiled and pointed
at himself, ‘me too!’
Before dinner Hannah, Reshem, Nat and I took a long walk
through the nearby park, and while Hannah and Reshem strode on ahead Nat and I
talked about everything from the man playing a guitar by the path to abortion.
But our most protracted conversation was surely about self and the projection
of self to others, through social media or anonymity (which in itself sends a
message) or fame. One thing that both of us have discovered in this journey,
and marvelled at, is how different we are in person and on social media or even
over whatsapp or email. The in-person Miriam, Nat says, is for more relatable
and less terrifyingly perfect, as opposed to the stories that were circulated
about me in school (which were perpetrated because, seeking anonymity, I
remained as silent as possible and therefore
an enigma) and the in-person Nat is deeper and more personable, but also has
more sadness and problems. To befriend and exonerate an online personality is
nothing but short changing their real self.
Nat and I had got face mask samples from Lush in Cambridge,
and we all put them on when we were home, although Reshem refused. I began
packing my suitcase that evening, heart heavy because it was our last night in
England.
7 July 2016
Our last day – and it was not a happy realisation. And yet,
the thought of going home filled me with so much need that I wanted time to
both speed up and slow down intensely. We went to Camden Market on that last
day, a surefire way to speed up time due to its vibrancy, its sheer voume of
stuff and noise and smells and smoke. We tried free falafel, I bought a
necklace from a Japenese woman who folds miniature cranes (self taught, and has
folded a few thousand but is saving her wishes for a rainy day) and we also
found the famous vegan bakery, cookies and scream. We shared an oatmeal cookie
and a peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie with ice cream (oh me oh my what
a wonderful life) and it was so good. As we kept saying on the trip ‘I REALLY like it!’
We had arranged to meet Hannah, Simren and Reshem up on
Primrose Hill, and so we walked into Regent’s Park and up the hill, past chalk
words on the road that reminded us to ‘Breathe Consciously’. Somehow ending our
time in a place by looking at it all from a height felt so right – a remembrance
of all the places we’d been and where we have yet to go. In all honesty, I
doubt I will finish exploring London by the time I graduate – it is just so
vast and full of life.
Hannah, Simren and Reshem were nowhere to be seen and we
needed to get back to finish packing and go to the airport, so we wrote them a
goodbye note and left it stuffed in a crevice under the bench we sat on, hoping
they would find it. But just as we began walking down the hill, we saw them
walking up, and so we stayed for 15 minutes for a final picnic.
As we were walking away for the last time, I heard Simren shout
‘MEI MEI!’ and turned around to see Reshem running towards us – we had
forgotten the keys!
We had our last proper muesli meal (I shall never think of
muesli the same way again, it will forever be associated with train rides and makeshift
bowls and last minute meals before travel) and then took 2 trains to Heathrow.
It was a long train ride and I had a song stuck in my head, which neither of us
could figure out – it was maddening! But in the airport, Nat spotted the sign
for Iberia airlines and cracked the code - the song was ‘I took a pill in
Ibiza!’
We sat beside a man who used his blanket as a head covering for the entire flight, and we both watched Julie and Julia on the plane, and had muesli
desserts after our meals, and asked for spare bread, and as usual I listened
to ‘Arrivals’ from the Like Crazy soundtrack as we touched down, and I stepped
on Singapore soil after 9 months away from home.
There was a poem we saw as we were going back to Auntie
Fiona’s house for the last time that, despite our rush, stopped both of us
because it was quite simply perfect:
I love the life so the life loves me
That's how simple it really be
It took a while for me to see
That if you love the life
It will love you back
That's the truth of it
That's a fact
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