War Horse

October 20: Finding British productions in London proved a challenge for me because American shows dominated with such stalwarts as Grease, Sweet Charity and Jersey Boys. The Shakespeare season was over and I'd already seen Blood Brothers and Les Miserables on my last London trip.

Typical for London theater, War Horse was well-directed and well-acted, with excellent production values.  It didn't look like any of the performers had microphones, yet they projected their voices clearly and loudly throughout the New London Theatre.  Then again, we sat in the second row from the stage.

In an effort to look fancy, I wore my Chinese jacket with a dragon design and a mandarin-collar shirt. But jeans and collar-less shirts were more common than suits. So the looks I got may have come from incredulity rather than admiration. Also typical for London theater were the overpriced snacks and ice cream that they sold at the seats during intermission. You weren't supposed to bring outside food in but several people did so with no problems from the staff.

A story about a boy and his horse during World War I, the production excelled and delighted with full-sized puppets of horses. Operated by three puppeteers, the animals expressed their own personalities and interacted realistically with the human actors. Many of the horses could even be mounted and ridden across the stage. Puppet birds sometimes flew across the seats and a puppet goose, who kept trying to get into the farmhouse, nearly stole the show.

Special effects kept the interest level high for the many kids in the audience. The drama used dance, projections, make-up, symbolism and even a full-sized tank to effectively express the horrors of war. My only criticism is the major coincidence that acted as the story's pivotal plot point. However, the play reduced the teen boys in the audience as well as me to tears.

If you have a chance, catch the production while you can.  It's already been extended once. Maybe it will come to America some day.

The Courtauld Gallery: Short and Sweet

London cabs all still look like this.

October 20: The London cabbie estimated an 8-pound fare to reach the Courtauld Gallery, so we got into the cavernous passenger compartment of the black taxi. He rushed through the traffic and got us through the traffic so quickly that the meter showed only 6.8 pounds. We gave him 8 pounds anyway for doing what every taxi driver should: taking his passengers to a destination in the shortest route and in the fastest time. (You can compare this to our experience with a French taxi driver in Caen.)

I have to agree with the Gallery's advertising as being "one of the finest small museums in the world." Located in the stylish 18th-century Somerset House, the museum displayed art from the Renaissance to Post-Impressionism. It was also small enough for viewing every painting in one visit, with enough time to enjoy the modern central fountains, which varied its spray patterns in rows and columns. (The gallery occupies a wing of the mansion.)

The museum's Impressionist/Post-Impressionist collection was particularly exciting:  Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, Seurat and Gauguin, among others.  The highlight was Manet's A Bar at the Folies-Bergère. We can all relate to this woman's feeling for her job:

Visiting History at the British Museum

October 20: What do I write about when discovering two million years of world history that's been donated, bought or looted? The Rosetta Stone, key to deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphics? Entire facades of long-forgotten Assyrian temples, complete with writing that looks like chicken feet and two-story-high man-horses? Intricate Japanese samurai armor from the 15th century?

You can find out about all this at the stuff at the British Museum website.

One thing you won't find is information on all the uniformed schoolkids that crowd around the exhibits. They bring a noisy energy to the halls, crowding around exhibits and trying to scratch out notes and drawings on their pads. They're often more entertaining to watch and photograph, as they encounter these precious objects for the first time.

If they block your views, just wait a few minutes because they come and go in waves. You'll then have a few minutes of peace at a display before the next gaggle of children comes tumbling in.

The museum is free, so don't try to see everything at once. The website has information on how to plan a visit and allows you to browse the collections, so you can come back on a different day for a particular interest.

The British Library Is for Early Birds

October 20: If you're an early bird like me, consider visiting the British Library just before you visit the British Museum.  They're one Tube stop away from each other or a 20-minute walk through nice neighborhoods.  The Library exhibition gallery also opens at 9:30 AM, which is 30 minutes before the British Museum. 

Depending on your interest in literature, it should take only half-an-hour to an hour to negotiate the main room: Sir John Ritblatt Gallery - Treasures of the British Library.

Among the highlights for us were a Shakespeare First Folio, maps of the ancient world, Alice-in-Wonderland manuscripts and books, a Caxton Chaucer and the Magna Carta.  If these treasures are meaningless to you, the Library is a good place to learn about their importance.

Impressions of London

October 20: It had been over twenty years since I'd previously been to London. It was familiar, comfortable but more worn, like a pair of shoes you still wear because they're comfortable even if the seams are coming apart. More crowds jostled for space on the Tube (subway) and the streets seemed more broken. But the city was still just as alive with people rushing to their destinations. And walls were still plastered with posters announcing theater shows.

More Londoners seemed to have non-UK accents from Italy, Germany, France and Eastern Europe. I suppose this is a result of the European Union, which allows its citizens to work anywhere. Young people were taking advantage of the opportunity to experience life in another country first-hand.

Welcome to the U.K.

October 20: The immigration agent was annoyed and confused as she tried to handle the growing line at Heathrow Airport in London.

"Who made this extra line? Who said you could do that?"

Those of us in line explained to her that another agent, who had disappeared, had done it. But she wasn' listening.

"All of you in the short line, go here. I'm closing this."

Much grumbling, mostly by Americans, as she closed the shorter line, allowing only the first few to continue.

I used to think the immigration lines at LAX were the worst in the world but this took the cake. Perhaps six agents were handling the ever-growing line of arrivals, while over a dozen counters remained unstaffed. And the line-handler, just seemed to wander back and forth among the throngs, occasionally disappearing.

Slowly more agents appeared at the counters. But it took us over an hour to get through immigration. The first question out of our agent's mouth was "Why are you two traveling together?"

"We're domestic partners." I answered. "He won't let me travel by myself."

This amused him and he cheerily chatted with us, before welcoming us to the U.K.

London Arrivals

October 20: The flight on October 19 was efficient, if uneventful.  They had no record of our kosher meal order, but they were able to scare one up for Anthony for both dinner and breakfast.  As usual, the kosher meals, which included Moroccan chicken, chocolate mousse and chocolate swirl croissant were tastier than the regular beef, crunch bar and plain croissant.  Customs proved slow and time-consuming with attendants shifting line paths willy-nilly and seemingly clueless as to how lines work. But eventually we got through, found the Heathrow Express and headed to central London.