Edinburgh - a cold walk through history

Next time, I need to make sure I know the difference between a Coach and a train coach while traveling. It turned out that instead of a train bogey, the coach I had booked was a bus, so a bus it was at the Victoria bus station. After 8 hours of twitching and turning in the uncomfortable (!) seats, I awoke to the sight of the open countryside of Scotland. Just a few blocks resembling houses dotting the landscape, and the tiresome journey is forgotten. Out onto the Princes street, directions taken from the helpful people, and away we go to the Castle. I thought the London streets were peppered with old buildings, but the structures here were quite something else as well.

Well, I cross the North Bridge and onto the Castlehill high street to the top of the gently sloping road. A 15 minute walk on the cobbled street (yes indeed cobbled), the castle perched almost at the top of the city is quite something. And just before you enter you need to take in the view on both sides of the entrance path, one side lining the tall picturesque spires and the few monuments lining the other end of the road, and the other side occupied by mostly city buildings.

 The air is cool, a bit too cool maybe for my skin which is used to tees and shorts, so when I bravely decided to take the overcoat for a few seconds, sense took over and it was back on. The small moat at the entrance protects the only road leading up to the castle, the rest of the sides have steep falls, which would have made the castle quite difficult to capture. The 20 minute guided tour started at the main gate, and you can see the difference in the walls which have stayed the vagaries of numerous battles, battered, differentiated by bricks and stones of varying colors where the attackers would’ve torn them down. Pity, so few good things in this world do stand the test of time, rather of men. The guide kept pointing to various enhancements the Brits gave in Victorian style to give the castle a more pleasing look and be more suitable for the rich lords and ladies to reside and entertain in!

After the main gate there are a few cannons pointing out to the sea, but these came in much later in the 1800s. There’s another more modern cannon mounted a bit further up, and this one fires at 1 every day, hence its called the 1’o clock gun. The story goes that it reminded the town folk to set their clocks right. But why 1 and not 12 in the noon? Well, the guide said that that’s what everyone does, so the Scots didn’t. I did manage to catch the bang (and incidentally, that was his explanation for the phrase “bang on time”) later in the day, probably just a dud shell for noise, I’m guessing!

Further up on the cobbled path sloping up, on the left are the vaults where they used to keep the PoWs. The effects have been recreated, the cots, hammocks, tables , a bit of cutlery, even some conversation running in the background giving it a nice touch. It would be nice to visit this place in the evening in the fading light, and you would hear the slow whispers of the lives lost here, rotting away, while you walk past with your own. After that past the Chapel is the royal quarters, where they also have on display the royal scepter, crown and the coronation sword, and some royal jewels. Rightly so, they have a few guards here. The sword’s 5-6 pounds heavy and laced with gold, thus used mainly for coronation, and wasn’t the weapon of choice to fling around in the battlefield screaming ‘FREEDOM’.

And finally there’s a big block of stone called the stone of destiny along with all these precious articles. All kings and queens since centuries past have been coronated on this stone (probably kept under the throne out of sight, since its not much to look at, neither quite comfortable to park your rear on I’m guessing). The guide says that the Queen graciously returned the stone back to this place in the late 90s after a few centuries because she got bored of ‘sitting’ on it.

Next to these rooms are the weapon display rooms, spears, swords, pikes, and some later day muskets as well. Opposite this building is a beautiful hall where they’ve put up dedications to the soldiers who did in the period 1914-18 (but later extended to include all martyrs). The coat of arms displayed, the huge volumes filled with the names and ranks of he numerous who got slain in the line of duty, and their weapons are displayed. The inner chamber is even more breathtaking, it has a big statue of a soldier suspended from the ceiling, and the circular walls depict various scenes of valor, the artwork is quite something, sadly no pictures allowed here to respect the dead. There’s also the St Margaret’s Chapel, the only structure that has survived the tests of time in the castle. Probably the fear of the almighty deterred the attackers from besieging the Chapel, or it could be the huge cannon just outside the entrance, with cannon balls weighing 140-150 pounds.

After spending a good 3 hours in the castle and its small museums, it was time to move on, well, to the Scotch Whiskey experience. It’s just outside the castle entrance, for liquor enthusiasts a must see, but since I had too many things to see, it was a pass (not to mention a teetotaler wouldn’t enjoy the experience as much). A brief sandwich later at one of the watering holes in the city, St Giles Cathedral was the next stop up. I don’t think that one can capture the essence of the serenity inside here, even though it stands on one of the main roads in the city, shrouded by the dark clouds that cover the horizon, all of it fails to filter in through the tall tinted glasses of the Cathedral, which create colorful shadows of their own inside. With a nice 25-30 minute walk later, you reach the other end of the high street, which houses the Scottish parliament. The general public is allowed to enter, but I prefer to roam outside any day, even in the chill that had fallen over. The building though is designed to give the impression of an art gallery methinks. Opposite the parliament is the Hollyroads house, another exquisite building demonstrating the architectural façade to all those who wander here.

Now, I did want to see the Nelson monument, but I was cutting it a bit close to the return train’s time. On the walk back to the station, I chanced upon the ‘Jacob’s ladder’ just small steps seemingly leading across to the ‘other side’ where the monuments were. Indeed, it did ‘cross me over’ so to say. The small path, looked seldom frequented by mankind was lined on both sides with heavy bushes, but a short huffing and puffing journey later, it did ‘deliver’ me to the monuments I desired to visit. Now, the view from up here is something else, you have the city observatory at one end, the Nelson monument in the middle, and the National monument on the other extreme on the small hilltop. The last one reminds one of the front of the Parthenon, just a series of tall pillars standing there in the middle, and still being able to entice the passerby. It seems a place not frequented by many, which suits me just fine.

The lush green grass would be perfect to have a picnic on, overlooking the city towards the North and the great waterbody beyond. Ah, now wouldn’t that be something, pity I couldn’t be here in the springtime, for that is the time, I really would’ve enjoyed a walk barefoot on this grass. Well, another time then.

DC meanderings -1

Too tired to venture out anywhere else, I headed back to Smithsonian, where it was a chance happening that I entered the Botanical garden. Well, even though I’m not too fond of appreciating mother nature’s flair at fauna, it turned out to be a nice surprise.

Once you enter the building, the first room is full of miniature replicas of the main structures in DC, The Supreme Court, Library of Congress, the Capitol, Smithsonian Castle, et al; all interspersed with bright trees. I couldn’t really make out whether they were leaves or flowers themselves, ‘cos I have never seen, white, blue and red leaves; and since I’ve been too lazy since then to even google, that mystery stays a mystery…unless one of you kind inquisitive folks would go through the trouble for me.

It was literally raining inside, and that was when I realized that the sprinklers on the ceiling were spraying a thin spurt of water every minute or so, well, so much for taking a bath in the morning.

It might not be something that blows your breath away, but the variety of plants and the flowers in full bloom in the winter does present a soothing sight. There were Orchids, purple and white, but the ones that caught my eye were the cacti family. First you get to see that variety that you mostly get to see in cowboy movies, or the ones in roadrunner cartoons (beep beep),you know, the tall forked ones. And you can also see the round shaped ones, all with their own peculiar design, and the one which has white whiskers growing all over it, making it the grand old man I guess.

The maintenance work is another thing that amazes me here, the small waterfalls inside, the rocks placed so neatly in a natural fashion, the greenhouse environment, and the parts where the shrubbery gets real thick, all presents a good experience.

Next up, well since you are a stone’s throw away from the Capitol, so I decided to trot up the front (rather the lawns on the back side) lawns of the US Capitol. It’s a bit strange to see people roaming around so freely, without much interference, so close to such an important place. And there was also a group of lazy bums on the strollers, having a nice time on this sunny day.

 The view from the Capitol, past the lawns, the small lake, the national Mall, right down to the Washington Monument, is now one of my favorite ones. The lush green grass cut to a decent height and the big flock of black birds flying around in front of the Smithsonian castle and a bunch of people playing touch football on a lazy late evening, and you can be simply immersed in it all.

Now, I’ve never been a fan of dear old Pablo, and I do have a very, take my word for it, a very vivid imagination, I still could not find the subject matter in the painting below.

Oh, for benefit of the confused, the painting’s titled ‘Nude woman’ by Pablo Picasso.

The big head formed out of what is made out to be a tree trunk is quite something. Standing taller than a 6 feet tall person, the emotions that the artist has been able to generate with the help of the different shades of the tree bark, and the moss making up for facial hair and that on the scalp, with twigs, and branches jutting out to retain the illusion of a simple tree, simple and at the same time, something that makes you stand there in front of it to keep on admiring it for some time.

 

The collection here is not that bad, with a bounty of Monet, Pissarro, Seurat and Renoir thrown in. I particularly liked ‘the bridge at Argenteuil’ and ‘Sainte-Adresse’ by Claude Monet, ‘Washerwomen on the banks of the Durance’ by Paul Guigou and ‘the ramparts at Aigues-Mortes’ by Frederic Bazille. Monets works were a bit more bright but were still a treat for the eye. And of course there was Vincent with his famous ‘Farmhouse in Provence’ with his broad brush strokes making up the grass in the foreground with the solitary farmer walking through it.

There were works also from later day artists as well, Henri Matisse with his oilwork. I wonder how all these Frenchmen were great painters, either they had a lot of talent and a lot of time on their hands, or probably they had outsourced their works to ghost painters in their time, which if they had, I guess they should be honored for the offshoring industry boom, or they went simple by eliminating the better painters of their times. I’d put my money on the last theory! Rene Magritte ‘s (thank god a Belgian) painting within a painting illusion ‘La condition humaine’ is surprisingly simple and mesmerizing.

 
The west wing houses most of the early day sculptures, a few human anatomical, a few of the gods, a few reflecting the fantasies of the artists, a few simply of animals. Most of these are marble, with a few blended with bronze as well. The Chester dale collection that was at display did take up a significant part of my trip, the Monets in particular are simply to be experienced in person.

The gallery does have benches in the middle of the halls to sit down and gaze, but its not the same with people walking all around, and in front of you ; all I ask is to be left alone to simply gaze at the artwork in peace and solitude….I guess that’s why most of the patrons bought these and put them up in behind their own four walls. Monet’s ‘bridge over a pond of lilies’ is quite something, to be able to recreate the beauty of nature with the help of oil paints and canvas, and mix a little bit of your own imagination on the palette is something that I wish I was able to achieve as well, oh well one can dream, can’t one?

The other impressionist era painter that caught my eye was Amedeo Modigliani, at first it was his last name (that is the same as that of Modigliani of Modigliani Miller fame, for the uninitiated Franco Modigliani was a renowned economist, known mainly for the modern theory on capital structure) that held up my gaze.

But a few moments later, the paintings were also in the picture, so to say. Finally an Italian artist, not a French one, and his paintings were a bit different as well, with the human face in all having an elongated shape, which to me sometimes felt a bit disproportionate to the body. But it was all in the eyes, I don’t know why, but the eyes by themselves are able to exhibit so many different emotions that the rest of the painting sometimes just fades away.

In the east wing again, the basement has influential works from the abstract expressionists, and there was Jackson Pollock as well. The artist had towards the later part of his career started to label his paintings simply by number, not even a title, his reasoning being he wanted the viewer to be rid of any preconceived notion, to see it as he/she deemed fit, use your own imagination to try and make sense of the work.

The ones on display here were number 7, and number 1; the latter also used aluminum in addition to the normal use of oil and enamel on canvas. I tried to use my own head to try and give a title to the ‘number 7’ but all I could think of was how the top right of the black and white painting resembled a weird face, while I was completely lost for the 5 minutes I was staring at ‘Number 1’, which just seemed to be an apt reflection of my life – completely jumbled up with no direction at all.

Then there was Henri Matisse’s later day works, wherein he took to making collages because of his medical condition. Funny, even when you are made incapable of painting in the conventional sense, the artist in you screams to be let out one way or the other, and he did it by making huge colorful collages. There were also displayed works of Andy Warhol and finally there was Alexander Caldor, who is credited for inventing the ‘mobile’, a neat kinetic structure that adorns the east wing at many places. There is one that I particularly liked, not a mobile, just a man’s head shaped out of wire hanging from the ceiling, and the lights shine down on it so cleverly that you can see two different shadows of the man’s face on the white wall next to it. The mobiles themselves are quite impressive, not just by their size and structure, but the way they maintain an equilibrium and also project those hauntingly beautiful shadows on the walls.

It was good to see such a diverse set of paintings, not just the fruit bowls, which were also there in plenty believe me, but the landscapes, the human form, the abstracts (read Picasso), the statues, the wireworks, the modern arts, and some photographs thrown in as well. Maybe if I also paint something incomprehensible by people in my time, indulge in debauchery, experiment with a lot of different drugs and alcohols, and die as a young, penniless artist, then who knows, my works could also be worth millions in some future era. One sure can dream!