Tavistock Square, Londra

Una piazza bella ma triste è Tavistock square nel quartiere di Bloomsbury Londra.

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Ricordiamo prima di tutto che le piazze in Inghilterra sono di due tipi.

Primo è la piazza come Trafalgar square, ampio spazio pavimentato dove il pubblico si congrega.

Secondo, e tipicamente inglese, è la piazza-giardino dove anticamente l’accesso era solo per gli inquilini che abitavano attorno nelle loro case a schiera.

Tali piazze come Bedford e Belgrave square serbano ancora la loro privatezza con quelli che abitano attorno mentre altre, come Russell e Gordon square sono aperte al pubblico.

Tavistock square, costruita nel 1820, era anticamente una di quelle private ma ora appartiene al municipio di Camden.

 

 

E’ aperta a tutti: gli impiegati d’ufficio, i lavoratori del distretto, i pensionati per trascorrere ore di riflessione, bambini, turisti e sempre i caratteristici scoiattoli grigi dei spazi verdi di Londra.

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La piazza si chiama Tavistock dopo il marchese di Tavistock, il figlio maggiore del duca di Bedford, che commissionò la piazza sul suo podere.

Un piazza bella ma triste. Perché triste?

Qui è stata fondata la Tavistock clinic per trattare quei soldati che subirono ‘shell-shock’, cioè la psicosi di bombardamento, e non riuscivano a ritornare ad una vita ‘normale’.

Qui è stato piantato un albero di ciliegia per ricordare le vittime delle bombe atomiche lanciate su Hiroshima e Nagasaki. In primavera l’albero è uno splendore ma ora rimane cupo come quei fatti che ricorda.

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Qui si trova un grande sasso che commemora gli obiettori di coscienza, cioè quelli che finirono in prigione o furono torturati e perfino uccisi perché non volevano uccidere nelle guerre. Questo sasso fu inaugurato dal grande compositore Michael Tippett, anch’esso un obiettore imprigionato e scrittore del capolavoro ‘a child of our time’.

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In questa piazza si trovano memoriali alla grande scrittrice Virginia Woolf che abitava in questa piazza e che si suicidò, depressa dai bombardamenti della guerra che distrusse la casa con la sua biblioteca proprio qui.

 

 

Parlando di guerra, Sandra ha notato i segni della vecchia ringhiera tolta durante la guerra per materiale bellico e la nuova ringhiera messa qualche anno fa.

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Si trova anche il memoriale al primo chirurgo donna, Louisa Aldrich-Blake (1865-1925), che lottò per i diritti delle donne.

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In mezzo alla piazza si trova uno dei più grandi di tutti i tempi: una statua forte e meditativa di Mahatmaji Gandhi, protestatore di pace contro l’oppressione con la sua filosofia del satyagraha e ucciso da un fanatico nel 1948. Sotto la statua c’è un cunicolo dove si possono fare offerte al mahatma che, quando chiesto ‘che ne pensa della civiltà occidentale’, rispose ‘sarebbe una bell’idea’…..

 

 

Non finiscono qui le ricordanze di questa piazza. Su un lato c’è la consueta lapide blu che indica l’abitazione del più grande romanziere inglese e lottatore contro le ingiustizie, le corruzioni e la povertà della Londra vittoriana. Fu qui, infatti, che scrisse il suo più grande romanzo ‘Bleak House’ (casa desolata), un libro potentissimo ancora oggi, che attacca il sistema giuridico e l’ideologia del capitalismo e inneggia l’amore puro e assoluto.

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Il ricordo più toccante di Tavistock square rimane per me questa lapide eretta sulla cancellata del BMA (associazione dei medici britannici).

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Commemora i morti innocenti dell’attentato del sette luglio 2005 quando un gruppo di fanatici islamisti in quattro luoghi diversi di Londra uccisero cinquanta due persone e ferirono gravemente sette cento e ottanta quattro. Era in questo punto che sull’autobus numero trenta furono uccisi tredici persone. Sono subito usciti i dottori del BMA, che erano all’una conferenza, ad assistere.

Notiamo anche che i morti venivano da tutte le parti del mondo.

L’autobus distrutto fu rimpiazzato da uno nuovo chiamato ‘spirit of London’.

Ecco quello che costituisce una grande città : edifici, memorie e principalmente degli abitanti che tirano avanti e che non si lasciano mai scoraggiare.

Cadono foglie:

nella morta memoria

entra l’autunno.

Changing Faces in Chengdu

Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, means pandas and we did get to spend the most amazing time with these adorable animals in one of their sanctuaries, placed in the lush bamboo forests which surround this city of over ten million inhabitants.

Chengdu, however, is an interesting place in its own right. Set in the heart of tea plantations the city has some of the most typical teahouses in the whole of China. They are great social centres where people meet up and chat and play mah-jong or draughts. There are still some streets left of the old town where the atmosphere of former times can still be felt although there is also a lot of tourist tack too!

The People’s Park is certainly where it’s at for Chengdu’s relaxed inhabitants and it gives one a fascinating insight into life in these regions.

First, there’s the history and the railway protection monument dating back to 1915 and commemorating the local resistance movement against selling nationalised railways to foreign banks, a movement starting the 1911 Chinese revolution which finished off the country’s last imperial Qing dynasty. (Perhaps a similar movement should arise in the UK where several railway companies are foreign-owned and subsidise continental railways……).

Around the monument young people were energetically playing shuttle-cock using their hands instead of bats, with one virtuouso girl managing amazing back-flips with her legs.

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There was also a memorial wall commemorating the victims of the Japanese bombardments in the last war. Although the latest Jap fighter planes were used, enemy land forces never reached Chengdu and it was China’s last capital before Mao’s forces arrived and forced the Kuomintang government to flee to Taiwan where it remains to this day.

I was particularly fascinated by the ‘blind date’ corner with notices from both young men and women asking for meetings with prospective spouses and listing their own talents (good job, apartment, looks, car, faithfulness). If one isn’t paired off by the age of thirty in China then prospects become increasingly gloomy.

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The opposite of frenetic shuttlecock playing was this old man writing classic Tang poems with brush pen and water (and a little help from his cellphone.) Truly, I have never seen better demonstrated those immortal words uttered by Keats, close to death, to his friend Severn ‘here lies one whose name was writ in water.’

The area is well-known for its chrysanthemums which, apart from their ornamental value, are also used in cooking rice and for making tea.

The people’s park was also enlivened by various singing and instrumental groups. (The only pity was that I was developing a tedious cold which, fortunately, was the only health mishap I got in China).

Regarding music, Chengdu is a major centre of Chinese opera and especially of the art of face changing (known as Bian Lian) where, apparently instantaneously, an actor changes his/her whole facial appearance sometimes ten times in less than twenty seconds! I won’t go into the four main techniques used for doing this or how this astonishing art originated (some say it was used to scare off dangerous animals while in a forest) but will just add some photos of the show we saw at Chengdu’s opera house.

Incidentally, if opera conjures up images of Pavarotti and Callas for you then Chinese opera is nothing like this. It’s a sort of classical pantomime, and includes singing, a lot of action and specacular effects. You either like it or you don’t!

 

Midnight Mass at Montegral

As customary, the Montegral Academy is performing in the Midnight Mass at the Convento dell’Angelo (above Ponte a Moriano), which will be celebrated by the Passionist Fathers. Participating are the artistes of the Montegral Academy, (returning from the Tiroler Festspiele in Austria), conducted by Gustav Kuhn

The Christmas music performed will include pieces by J.S. Bach, Mozart, Puccini, Rossini, Franck. Bizet, Handel, Liszt, Vivaldi, Mascagni and S. Adams.

Free shuttle bus service from Ponte a Moriano car park (behind the theatre) starting at 10.30 pm and returning from 01.00 am onwards.

For more information, please call 0583 40630

 

Ghostly Encounters

Our cruise up the Yangtze included some optional excursions, not all of which we took.

However, shortly before reaching journey’s end at Chongqing we alighted from our vessel to visit the ghost city of Fengdu, a collection of hillside temples dedicated to the grisly subject of death.

Actually there are two ghosts cities, for the old town of Fengdu has been swallowed by the waters of the Yangtze and people now live in the new settlement which what it lacks in the character of the old town it makes up in modern and more hygienic facilities.

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The passage through death to the underworld is a particularly complex one in China. The dead have to pass various tests and justify their life’s deeds (especially the bad ones) before a panel of often terrifying-looking gods. If they fail the tests the unfortunate souls are subject to years of torture which are too horrifying to describe here (although there are some very realistic statues on the site).

This is a graphic description of the Taoist-Buddhist idea that what goes around comes all the way back – otherwise expressed as being one’s own worst enemy.

We entered the ghost city via the gate to Youdu which leads to the capital of death called Diyu.

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It’s very similar to hell in the west and the tortures inflicted are not that dissimilar from those described in Dante’s inferno: people are sawn in half, crushed under heavy weights, driven mad by huge flies, disembowelled etc.

Fortunately for us we managed the three main tests so were not torn to shreds by some maniacal demons.

The first of these tests involved us crossing the bridge of helplessness. The demons standing at the far end of the bridge, after a little hesitation, allowed us through. We were safe for the moment.

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The second test involved facing Yama the King of Hell for judgement. Despite his gruesome expression Yama didn’t say anything to us so we passed this test as well. That was a relief!

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The third test was to stand on a very slippery stone to the count of three without falling off. We managed this one as well so I presume for the foreseeable future we won’t have too much bother from Yama and his crew.

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Actually the court of Hell seemed to us a very attractive place with some beautiful panoramas. I didn’t feel many of the Chinese people took it that seriously and, instead, there was a subdued holiday atmosphere.

The beautiful pagoda placed near Yama is the place where the souls of the dead can take a last look at the world of the living. This made me feel that the worst punishment the Death King can inflict is separation of those on the journey to the nether world from family and friends. And unfortunately this punishment works the other way too…

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I was also particularly taken by this statue:

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It represents the wreath-eating ghost who was a girl who stole wreaths from the statue of the Buddha. As a punishment she could only feed on wreaths and not food offerings after her death.

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We headed down towards the river and our ship having defeated Death for the time being.

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A Taste of Finland in London

The Surrey docks in Rotherhithe, before they closed down, were a principal centre for the import of timber from Canada and the Scandinavian countries. To cater for shore leave for sailors from Nordic lands, missions and churches were set up. Thus, there is, within a small area of London, a Norwegian church, a Swedish chapel (unfortunately closed in 2012 but now listed as a fine example of post-war Scandinavian architecture and safe from demolition) and a Finnish church. (Further afield there is also a Danish and a Swedish church).

The Finnish Lutheran building was designed by the great Helsinki architect Cyrill Mardall-Sjostrom (1909-1994). It dates from 1958 and is listed as a fine example of the superb modern architecture Finns produce. The church has an unusual bell-tower and the apse is of serene beauty, faced by grey rock slabs from Finland.

 

There has been a Finnish mission in London since 1882 to give assistance, shelter and social life to seamen from that country. Now that the docks have closed the chances of coming face-to-face with a Finnish seaman in Rotherhithe are somewhat slim. However, today the church serves as a social centre for all Finns; it has a shop selling Finnish food items and includes hostel accommodation.

Quite by chance we found ourselves a couple of days ago in the middle of a Finnish Christmas market which spilled out on the streets in front of the church.

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Closing the street of the Christmas market was the distinctive spire of the Norwegian church, inaugurated by the future king Haakon VII in 1927 and a centre of the Norwegian government in exile during the dark years of the war.

 

The atmosphere was most congenial and there was even a lady playing Finnish folk songs.

 

As always with London it’s possible to travel the world for the price of a bus ticket and for a couple of hours we were in Finland, especially when attempting to decipher what all those weirdly named food products being sold turned out to be. At least we now know that limpuu, reikaleipa and hapankorppu are all delicious types of dark rye bread (a staple diet among Finns it seems) and that ligonberries and cloudberries abound together with reindeer meat and moose, not to leave out the Plevnan Siperia Imperial stout!

 

 

More China in London

The whole world’s in London. Over three hundred languages are spoken in its schools, for example, (although clearly English is used for teaching) and it is increasingly difficult to find a family here that is not in some way bilingual. (Ours speaks at least two languages, for example).

The cosmopolitan nature of the great metropolis in which I was born is reflected in the variety of its restaurants, its entertainment (especially music) and, increasingly, in its architecture. (London, for example, boasts some of the finest Hindu temples outside India – just go to Neasden or Alperton…

It was, therefore, an almost predictable treat to walk into a cornucopia of Chinese art, the Sir Joseph Hotung gallery at the British Museum, just days after we had returned from China itself.

Actually, the gallery existed before our visit but has been subject to a marvellous refurbishment which was inaugurated this month by the Queen. The fact that she’d already attended a previous refurbishment twenty five years ago suggests to me that Her Majesty must have a particular penchant for things Chinese.

The new presentation is stunning. A gallery which we’d neglected now entices us back again for more, no doubt also because of our recent visit to China.

Start from the right as you enter room 33 and then work your way anti-clockwise, for not only are you seeing the most wonderful objects but you are also picking up Chinese history as you go along, from Neolithic times up to the modern age (and that includes the ghastly ‘cultural revolution’).

From 5000 BC there are already fine pieces of pottery which culminate in exquisite Ming dynasty examples. There’s China’s golden age of the Tang dynasty with its tomb figurines. All fine arts are represented including calligraphy,silks, porcelain and jade (considered more precious than gold by the Chinese).

Everyone will have their favourites but I was particularly taken by statues of gods and goddesses. Here is a selection of my favourite things there:

 

 

And don’t forget…The Indian section will soon be reopened. Wonders shall never cease!

Three Little Gorges

We spent a total of four nights on the MS Yangtze II ship.

The next day we sailed through the second of the three gorges, the Wu, a little shorter than the Xilling at 45 kilometres in length but no less dramatic. The limestone peaks almost seemed sculpted by some gigantic monster in the country’s primeval past. Perhaps they were, indeed, petrified daemons.

 

We took a delightful detour up the Daning river tributary to the three small gorges. Their names are Dragon gate, Misty and Emerald. Although smaller in scale than the main gorges the ‘little’ ones have a wonderfully intimate feel as their sides truly hugged our vessel.

 

I wish I could have spent more time here among the forests which are filled with wild animals including monkeys and red pandas. Life is just too short for what there is to see on this wonderful planet.

In the evening entertainment was laid on in the opulent ballroom on the top deck. It was a sweet Chinese version of something reminisicent of the shows held in that immortal sitcom ‘Hi de Hi’.

 

Although we were in such mythical places, where earth, sky and water played with each other, in this same month of November, looking back at our photographs it all already seems a dream. Were we really there or was it just a passing vision?

 

A high-rise orient:
rock peaks instead of concrete;
kissed by green waters.

Sailing up the Three Yangtze Gorges

China’s three gorges are among the most spectacularly scenic parts of this fabulous country, and also one of its most controversial because of the changes wrought upon them by the dam completed in 1994. How could the relocation of over a million people, the submersion of valuable archaeological sites and the considerable erosion of the Yangtze river banks justify such a project?

In fact, the idea of a dam for the Yangtze goes back at least as far back as the 1920’s if not beyond. This seminal area of Chinese civilization has always been prone to the worst floods, drowning thousands, and the most risky navigational problems. The idea of adding the world’s greatest hydro-electric generating station to a dam was much more recent and has enabled almost half of the country to benefit from new sources of electricity.

All dam building involves difficult choices between environment and development. All I can say is that our cruise through the gorges still thrilled me with one of the most awesome journeys I’ve ever undertaken and that a whole new generation is provided with a future which more than compensates for the nostalgia an older generation must have felt for the destruction of their ancestral roots.

To get to the start of our gorges adventure we flew from Shanghai to near where the dam is situated at Sandouping in Hubei province.

A fine boat called Yangtze II was called into service and our cabin was most comfortable. Situated on the starboard it also had a nice balcony with wicker chairs and table. It certainly evoked a by-gone charm and was the first proper cruise we had ever been on.

 

 

We visited the world’s largest power station generating almost 100 megawatt hours (enough to light up most of Europe!) and enjoyed the view from the monument at the top of the hill dominating the development.

 

 

The dam, which is 7661 ft long and 594 feet high, has three main sections with the central part containing sluice gates opened to release the build-up of silt behind them.

We were lucky enough to have our luxury liner go up the recently completed huge set of five locks separating the lower river from the upper stretch above the dam. Having only had experience of English narrow boat canal locks I was completely bowled over by the almost superhuman scale of the dam locks.

 

 

For smaller boats there is also a lift, opened in 2016, but our vessel was a little too large for that!

It took us five hours to get up the series of mammoth locks, which also accommodated other boats. I was utterly stunned by the vast scale of contemporary Chinese engineering. Yet I was pleased by the fact that it was Leonardo da Vinci who thought up the modern mitre lock and that the brits developed it extensively in the world’s first industrial revolution.

Having used this extraordinary watery staircase our pleasure liner was able to enter the start of the gorges.

The first gorge is called Xilling and is 66 km long. We entered Xilling in a misty early morning. What a sight to greet us in our half awakened state…

Pictures are worth a million words here so here they are:

 

 


True, the risen waters have made the mountain tops appear a little lower but what a sense of rapt sublimity is evoked by the gorge. No wonder generations of Chinese poets have enthused about this part of their country. Yuan Shansong of the Eastern Jin dynasty, for example, wrote “the overlapping cliffs all constitute scenery beyond expression. I had never seen such a scene nor had I any similar experience. I felt mountains and water all had spirits.”

I felt the same too.

Note also the weird ancient coffins wedged in cracks on the gorge sides. No-one quite knows how they managed to get there.

 

 

They belong to an ancient Neolithic culture and date back to at least 1000 BC.

Mysteries upon mysteries as indeed so much of China is saturated with.

Il Rifugio del Brumista a Londra

Attorno Londra si possono trovare delle graziose capanne di legno dipinte di verde dove è possibile comprarsi una buona tazza di the’ per meno di un euro e portarsi via anche un panino e vari altri snack. Però non si può entrare dentro e appena arriva un tassista prende la precedenza e, in più, può rifugiarsi dentro la capanna.

Da dove saltano fuori questi simpatici posti nella storia della grande Londra? Fu un certo colonnello Armstrong nell’esercito imperiale d’India che noto’ che in una notte tempestosa d’inverno del 1873 non trovò un hanson cab per portarlo a casa.

Meglio noto a Milano come un ‘brum’, questo tipo di carrozza lasciava all’aperto il povero ‘brumista’ mentre il cliente stava bell’ e comodo. (Se guardate il film ‘Top Hat’ del 1936 vedrete Fred Astaire fare il brumista)

 

Ma dov’era il brumista del colonnello? Nel pub vicino, brillo come tanti altri brumisti in quella notte gelida! Allora il colonnello ebbe una vincente idea di istituire rifugi per i brumisti, ora chiamati cabbies o tassisti, dove potevano trovarsi al caldo, mangiare un piatto di salsiccia e fagioli e bere una bella tazza di the’. Le regole, però, erano – e rimangano – no alcol, no bestemmie, no parlare di politica e no giocare a carte per soldi.

 

Una volta esistevano più di sessanta di questi ‘cabbie shelter’ a Londra. Ora ne rimangano solo tredici. Posti suggestivi, residui di una vecchia Londra, dove si può bere il miglior the’ al miglior prezzo e dove, secondo l’immortale Oscar WIlde, si può godere buona compagnia e eccellente conversazione.

Godete queste capannine nel vostro prossimo viaggio a Londra. Chissà quanto tempo dureranno ancora…
Ps la nostra ‘cabbie shelter’ qui sotto si trova a Russell square dove eravamo ieri, e data dal 1901.

 

High-Rise China

The Chinese seem to be enamoured of their version of Le Corbusier’s concept of ‘la cite’ radieuse’: the radiant city composed of high-rise concrete blocks placed within a park-like ambience. Throughout the country there is a relentless, tryphid-like march of new multi-storied housing, rarely less than twenty stories high, that is taking over more traditional settlements.

Most have heard about the destruction of over half of the characteristic Beijing alleys or hutongs in the last thirty years.

Shanghai, too, has its characteristic shikumen lanes which are increasingly under threat. They are also known as londang and consist of two or three story houses with a large gate before each house.

In many respects shikumen are like the old back-to-back terraced houses so common in early industrial Britain and which, after years of demolition as slums, are now being preserved, gentrified and even turned into National Trust-like tourist sights.

Some preservation orders have been placed on the Shanghai shikumen but, regrettably, the damage has been done, the traditional city skyline has changed inexorably and soaring land values encourage high density housing and speculation.

These photos describe what is increasingly happening to Shanghai and it is rather sad. The same thing will no doubt increase in my beloved Saigon but it is all about being part of ‘dragon economies.’

 

China is a ‘no arguments’ state. Conservation societies have little shrift here. One day a city dweller may have been living for generations in a hutong or shikamen only to be told that a roomier and more hygienic twentieth floor flat is awaiting them twenty miles away for immediate occupation. Communities are fractured, families dispersed and I can only wonder if those blights of social anomie and drug trafficking will follow as they so often have done when Britain began to despise terraced housing and fell in love with a debased version of ‘Corbu’ in its post-war estates, so many of which are now being torn down and replaced by those once-considered outdated low rise housing.

A weird phenomenon of modern China is that of ghost cities, well described elsewhere. So many new high rise sprawls lie empty or even uncompleted. While Britain is desperate to catch up with its housing shortage it seems that the Chinese government is planning to avoid such an eventuality by building accommodation even before it’s needed. What else can be behind the interminable row of vacant high rises one spots from train windows in that country? Mass social engineering and movement of rural populations to urban environments? Who knows.

 

The mysteries of the east are ever present to transform themselves into new ones.