Lazy Theatre Day

Sleep, for whatever reason, did not come easy last night. Be it from my body wanting to return to its regularly scheduled timezone, being over tired from the long day out, or maybe from the sudden chill I go from the open window just before bed, something stopped me from getting a good sleep. So this morning, I was lazy, and Mario was lazy and it just felt like a good day to chill out in our room for a bit. We make our way lazily back to Borough Market to explore some more of the stalls, and come away with the exact same tasty snack as our last visit: Sweet pain au lait, tender figs and peaches, savoury, salty local cheese, and we complement it all with dry sliced charcuterie from South Tyrol, coppa, speck and garlic salami. We take our picnic out of the market, away from the crowded picnic tables, from the people huddling in hidden corners to eat standing up. A couple of streets away, we find a small park in the middle of Maiden's Lane, in the center of a square of houses that seem wholely out of place in this section of London, and take a moment to enjoy the spoils of our market-hunting. A few other market-goers find this spot too, but it much less busy and utilized than I would expect this close to Borough Market - I suppose we could classify this as a true hidden gem. From Borough, we make our way towards the Thames, and run right into the queue to view the Queen's casket at Westminster Hall. Now, in an attempt to organize the crowds willing to line up for hours(and maybe more), the city organized areas for people to stand, with washrooms, water spots and food services available, as well as attendants to keep the order and control queue-jumpers, even though I understand that to not be an issue on this side of the pond. Our evening's entertainment is the Shakespearean play Much Ado About Nothing, and at the Globe Theatre, no less - which the queue just happens to pass right in front of. So, as we approach, we can see the long line of people snaking its way along the water, past the theatre, in front of the Tate Modern Museum, and on, and on, and on. We wish its population much patience, as we've heard that some are waiting up to 15 hours now to enter Westminster, and hope that they have all come well-prepared. We head next door to the Tate to waste time until the show.

So I have determined that I do not like museums of Modern Art. Sure, there are some things that I find intriguing - give me a Salvador Dali, Picasso or Magritte any day, and I love a good pop art by Warhol, or even some Jackson Pollack splatters. But tell me, is it just recently that modern art became an excuse for artists - no, activists - to use any medium to convey a message, and that message have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO with the art itself?! Our walk through the Tate Modern became an exercise in "Guess the artist's message". Holes burnt into rolls of ratty-looking beige carpet, or a recorded video of sweat dripping down a hairy man's chest projected onto a pool of sand, both conveying the struggles of the indigenous people. Several rooms filled with speakers playing a piece orchestrated using the calls of South American birds, though impressive and complex, were created from the artist's reaction to reading and article about Russian submarines dumping nuclear waste. I mean...WHAT?! I just don't get it. Please tell me - is it just me?

Regardless, the museum is vast, built within the shell of an old power plant, so at least the history of the building is interesting - just walking the halls took a good amount of time. Plus, admission is completely free, another bonus, so it took up just enough of our afternoon to get us to dinnertime. At the suggestion of Chris, our guide from the English bus tour, we returned to another Fuller's establishment, this time the White Hart pub near the Globe Theatre. Though all part of the same family, and serving the same beers, each Fuller's has a distinctly different feel about it, and the menu reflects that. We did, however, go with something familiar and ordered the steak and ale pies, served with creamy mash and peas that were sauteed with leeks, cabbage and LOTS of butter. It was delicious, and I dare say, better than the pies we ate at the Astronomer. Plus, having learned so much about ciders and their acceptance on the British pub scene, I opted to get a pint of a light and crisp Cornish Orchard instead of forcing myself to enjoy the bitter of the British ales. 

 Ah, the Globe Theatre - home of Shakespearean entertainment. Once upon a time, wayyy back on a high school trip in the last millennium, when this place was close to completion, there was a possibility to help finance the construction by way of "purchasing a brick", for a measly 2 pounds. Of course I got one, so I wanted to know of there was some was of finding said brick now. I think my inquiries fell on deaf ears, however, as I was pointed to the outer courtyard to search the paving stones on the ground, where names like John Cleese, Richard Dreyfus, and the entire country of Japan were inscribed. I highly doubt that one, my measly 2 pound donation would get me one of these large stones, and two, that my name would figure along side these great names! (though it did make me laugh)

      

We opted to enjoy tonight's performance as Groundlings - the common folk that get to watch from the floor, interact with the actors on stage, and perhaps toss rotten tomatoes or cabbage when the play is not too our liking. Okay, maybe not that last part, but the idea is generally the same, and you can't beat the 5 pound ticket price! And with a play like Much Ado About Nothing, a Shakespearean comedy if there ever was one, it was the best location to truly enjoy the play. The actors were phenomenal in their delivery, and their physical performance really highlighted the script - giving sideways looks down to the crowds, playing off the reactions, often creating their own little side stories to follow during the main storyline. They ran and jumped from the stage into the crowd and then back out the rear exits, only to bicycle their was back in, or attempt to climb back up and require someone's help and a little boost. At one point, one of the actors is trying to evade the authorities, dresses an audience member in his jacket, and as the police is distracted, he runs over to us, and ducks behind Mario. Mario taps me on the shoulder, and as I turn around, he points to the actor, who waves sheepishly at me at winks! How can you NOT get engrossed in a story that does everything to involve you in it! It was a fantastic night of theatre, and I dare say, the best I've ever experienced.

We walk across the Millenium bridge in the chilly night air, over all those people still waiting patiently in their queue for their turn with the Queen. We duck into the warmth of the Underground, and catch the next train back to Aldgate East.