The British Museum



August 17th & 24th

I have lived across the street from the British Museum for a solid 2 and a half months and except for a brief peek inside on the 4th of July, this was the first time I actually visited it. Terrible, right? Especially since I was a History major. But when something is so close it’s easy to put off visiting it. It would have been utterly disgraceful to leave London and not see it, however, so finally I ventured inside.

The museum is so big and sprawling I actually went on two separate weekends. The first Sunday I entered without a clue where to go or even what I was supposed to see. I dimly recalled something about facades from the Parthenon, but I had no idea where to find them in the vast museum. In fact the first room I wandered into turned out to be the gift shop. Hmmm. Once through the gift shop I did come across a cavernous room holding actual artifacts, including a massive stone foot from a toppled Roman statue. But no bits of the Parthenon were to be seen. I wandered across the wondrously dizzying Great Court – the heart of the museum, which has the most spectacular ceiling I’ve ever seen – and at last found my way to the Egyptian & Greek & Roman statues.



Right away I came upon the Rosetta Stone, which was quite exciting, as you can imagine. It’s encased in glass, of course, so my photo mostly shows the reflection of all the people standing around instead of the writing. But the writing really is incredible to see in person – each of the three languages is written in teeny letters but quite clear all the same. I don’t think I knew before that the Rosetta Stone was a black stone, with the etched letters showing up white. Thus far it’s the most striking ancient artifact I’ve ever seen.





After a bit more confused meandering through galleries that completely upended my sense of direction, I finally found the Elgin Marbles, the statues and friezes taken from the Parthenon by Lord Elgin in 1801. They’ve been displayed at the British Museum ever since 1816. The friezes run down both walls of a long gallery, with the statues from the pediments at either end. Nearly all the statues are missing heads and occasionally arms, but the friezes are in remarkably good condition. My favorite sections featured large troupes of men on horseback – the detail was extraordinary, and I really got the sense of energy and movement even out of figures frozen in stone. I spent the rest of my time studying the friezes until the museum closed.





The next Sunday I returned to the museum – I’d only seen those few areas on the first floor, and I knew there was a great deal more to see. So I promptly got lost in the endless galleries again. Not that I was ever really lost, but I definitely had no sense of direction. But it’s nice to wander around a museum with no sense of purpose, to explore leisurely and pop into random rooms that strike your fancy. I ambled my way through galleries devoted to China, India, Japan, ancient Egypt (complete with real mummies!), Celtic Britain, and even twentieth-century American graphics artists. I loved looking at the sleek ink drawings of 1920s New York, with women in cloche hats walking beneath towering skyscrapers.



I was at the deepest end of the Celtic Britain galleries looking at a massive iron cauldron when they announced closing, and as I made my way out I was surprised to find I was on the opposite end of the museum than I’d thought. I spent two days there and I’m sure I still didn’t see everything.

Hyde Park



Sunday, August 10th

The forecast called for rain on Sunday, but the morning and early afternoon were bright and sunny instead. So I made my way to Hyde Park for a leisurely excursion about the grounds.

This was yet another London landmark I missed on my previous visit, so I was really excited to see it. I always think of how gentlemen and ladies would go courting by taking drives about the park in my old Regency romances. (It is rather troubling how much my knowledge of England is formed by Regency romances. Hmmm.) I had a great time wandering the lanes and ended up walking all the way around the Serpentine and the Long Water, the small lakes formed from the Westbourne River for Queen Caroline in 1730. (I read a monument.)




Despite the chilly breeze quite a few people were out rowing or paddleboating in the Serpentine, and I even saw one person swimming in the bathing area. Some areas of the park were painstakingly landscaped while others were left to run wild—quite the interesting combination. At one remote area along the path I couldn’t believe I was in the middle of a massive city anymore; it was just grassland and scattered trees in all directions.









At the head of the Long Water I relaxed on a bench among the fountains and watched the swans. As I made my way down the opposite shore I wandered through the Princess Di Memorial Fountain, which is surprisingly fun and unique as fountains go. People were wading and playing in the bubbling stream all around the fountain. Further along I suddenly came upon a sandy exhibition area, where a dozen riders were competing in pairs events. The horses were beautiful; groomed to perfection, many with their manes and tails braided. Everyone was decked out in fancy riding gear, while one pair were wearing full riding habits with long navy skirts—and I do believe riding sidesaddle. It was delightful in an utterly English way.



Comfy folding chairs are grouped all along the Serpentine, and I hung out for awhile in one beside a willow tree and read In A Sunburned Country, Megan’s book on Australia by Bill Bryson. He really is a fantastic travel writer. I love how a big chunk of his travels through Australia consist of him wandering on foot through various residential neighborhoods in Sydney and Melbourne and Canberra. He does so much walking and most of it not even remotely near tourist areas, just random suburbs. Scratch that – he seems to go on foot pretty much throughout the entirety of these cities, only using a rental car to get from city to city and not even bothering with public transport at all. I have to applaud his dedication as I am someone who couldn’t even bear to walk the extra ten minutes to the Tube every day to get to work. I chose to use the bus stop half a block away at the end of my street instead, heh.

I timed my visit pretty much perfectly, as the skies opened up just as I was making my way out of the park. I wonder if the people still paddleboating got wet.


The Hayward Gallery


The Hayward Gallery, with one of the outdoor installations—Observatory, Air-Port-City

Wednesday, August 6th

Once again I got to enjoy the perks of the press with my internship. The company was provided with free tickets to the Psycho Buildings exhibition at the Hayward Gallery—anyone who wanted to go was free to leave work at 3 p.m. and make their way to the gallery on the South Bank. With such an incentive I didn’t have to be asked twice.

I might have felt shy about attending an artistic architecture exhibition with just my coworkers a month ago, when I felt I didn’t really know anyone very well. But over the past two months I’ve worked with so many editors and designers that I think I’ve gotten to know nearly half the office. This is all due to the fact that I was never assigned to any one magazine and never had a permanent desk, unlike Brielle. So not only have I worked with the editors of ten different magazines (ten, now!) I also had to repeatedly move throughout the building—even to different floors—in order to find an open desk. Although this could be painfully awkward at times (“Heyyyy . . . is anyone sitting here? Yes? Okay, I’ll just try over here . . .” *slinks away*) it also forced me to talk with others in the office and introduce myself, which might have been difficult otherwise. I hated not having a set spot, but it really was the best thing that I could have gone through. And now that I’ve taken over Brielle’s old desk I get the best of both worlds: my own desk where people know where to find me, because they know me.

So there was any number of people I could have cheerfully gone with to the exhibition, and that’s a great feeling. I’m so happy that I went, too. Of course a free exhibition is always tempting, but I am not the biggest fan of modern art, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. The result: I was utterly blown away. The installations were incredible, in their size, in their complexity, in their imagination. I can’t even begin to figure out how the artists constructed some of the pieces.

As this was supposed to be artists’ fantastical takes on architecture, nearly all the installations were large enough for people to walk around in. The odd fabric and paper materials used in some simply invited curious fingers, but the gallery attendants were barking “No touching!” (Of course I instantly thought of Arrested Development.) My favourite pieces—whoa, I just wrote favourite without thinking! I wouldn’t have noticed except spellcheck flagged it! Oh lord, my spelling is going to be so messed up when I come back to the States. Anyway: my favorite pieces without a doubt both involved dollhouses, not surprisingly. I’ve always had a fascination with dollhouses and miniatures, and the artists did not disappoint. Do Ho Suh constructed a massive replica of his first apartment building in the United States—I believe the scale was 1:5, which means this was a big, big dollhouse, easily taller than I am, and it held no fewer than four completely separate, individually decorated student apartments. Into this he’d smashed a replica of his childhood home in Korea, Wizard-of-Oz style. The miniature details he packed into both these houses were beyond belief. My coworkers and I lingered in front of it for nearly half an hour, continually asking each other “Whoa, do you see that teeny dictionary? Look at all the little dishes. And the washing machine! Check out the mini Domino’s box!”

Even better was Rachel Whiteread’s Place installation. Apparently she is a major collector of small dollhouses assembled by others over the years. She placed these empty dollhouses – dozens upon dozens of them – in tiers throughout a darkened room, with all their hundreds of windows aglow. Walking through them the effect was magical. It was like stumbling upon a fairy village that was both enchanting and hauntingly empty at the same time.