Posts tagged ‘Travel’

Feb 25

Valencia (iv) – Day 2: Sea, Sanctuary and Semana Santa

It’s easy to forget that Valencia is by the sea. With its centre some distance inland, you can barely make out the horizon of the Mediterranean, even from the city’s highest point atop the Miguelete bell tower. You can’t smell the sea, nor see boats, and I suppose it doesn’t help that the old river Turia is now dried out, diverted, and turned to gardens. And yet a ten minute journey away on Valencia’s tram will take you swiftly coastwards, where the Mediterranean sea stretches out like a swathe of azure blue above a foreground of softly undulating white sand.

And it was to the coast that we headed on this, second day of our Valencia Odyssey, taking the tube from Xativa out to the old Marina. But before we could even leave the historic centre, our walk took us into the Southern stretch of the city, below the Plaza de la Reina, and into the far bigger, much grander Plaza del Ayuntamiento. If the Catedral and the Plaza de la Virgen behind it is the beating heart of the city, then the Plaza del Ayuntamiento is its administrative brain and spinal cord. The Plaza, and the Ayuntamiento (town hall) sitting at its centre, resembles something closer to New York than old town Valencia. It’s highrises are not glass skyscrapers, but they are tall and magnificent, straight out of the art deco and Modernista era of architecture. At one corner of the square, a whole series of domed and turreted multi-storey business blocks come together like a meeting of the giants, and the effect is magnificent and altogether imposing. In the square’s centre, a vast plaza is broken up with a suitably impressive fountain surrounded by flowerbeds and flower sellers, while numerous benches enable visitors to sit and gaze up at the many elaborate buildings, and the stucco, wrought iron, and sculptures which decorate their facades, sending out a message of the grandeur and supremacy of the administrative heart of this city.

Features of the Plaza del Ayuntamiento

Walking through this impressive plaza, and onto the main shopping street lined, amongst others, with the beautiful Modernista Estacion del Norte, and the vast colonnaded bullring (this has to be one of Spain’s most impressive) we made our way down into the fairly modern and efficient (if a little slow) tube and journeyed outwards towards the coast. There, we alighted a few stops before the sea, just as the metro makes its seamless transition into an overland tram, so that we could make a visit to one of Valencia’s more unusual museums – the Museum of the Semana Santa Marinera de Valencia.

For those unaccustomed to Semana Santa, Spain’s Holy Week celebrations, they are generally mistaken into believing that the sinister hooded figures with eye-holes cut into pointed hoods, marching en masse by candlelight and accompanying religious paraphernalia, are none other than the infamous KKK. This is an unfortunate confusion which comes more of the KKK’s widespread infamy than any ignorance of spiritual and sacred tradition closer to home. For in Spain, long before the 3 K’s surfaced with their abominable practices, the churches of Spain’s towns and cities parade their holy statues out of the churches and around the streets on each of the nights of Holy Week. The men with the hoods are nazareños, Christian faithful who cover their faces as an act of penitence before unveiling their faces again when Christ is risen from the dead. These parades make for powerful spectacles – I know, having seen many in Andalucia, and having been inspired to paint many representations of the same.

Anyway, here in Valencia, it seems they do things a little different. For one thing their statues are built more as freezes, depictions of the Passion story, tailor made for being paraded rather than living in the side-chapels of churches. Secondly, these larger sculptures are paraded around on wheels, rather than carried by hundreds of men in unison, as is the practice in the South of Spain. Thirdly, and perhaps the reason for the second of these differences, the Semana Santa in Valencia is called the Semana Santa Marinera because the parades actually take place, at least in part, along the beach, hence the location of this museum. This must make for quite a sight. Sadly, owing to the time of year, we had to make do with the museum itself, which is more of a holding place for the floats and costumes during the year. I must say, it made for something of a creepy and solemn spectacle to see all of the statues lined up, the crucifixes with their realistic depictions of bleeding Christ, and the hooded figures set out as mannequins. As interesting as I found it, I’m glad I was not there alone.

After that slightly macabre visit, it felt good to be out in the sun again and walking towards the sea, not that it was terribly straightforward. It’s obvious that Valencia was not built as a seaside resort. For one thing, the city centre is far from the coast, with the result that the approaching areas are very suburban, and, to be honest, a little scary. Amongst all the tightly packed tower blocks, I felt very conspicuous – the two lone tourists with large cameras in hand walking along slightly lost in this very untouristy area. Eventually, via several main roads and diversions, we made it to the sea, but again the approach was far from obvious (luckily I speak enough Spanish to ask bemused locals where we were going). Valencia is known for having one of the biggest commercial ports on the Med – it is not known for its beaches, and while a rather pleasant paseo maritimo has now been forged along the coast, it is one strip of civility in amongst a whole hotbed of industrialised landscape. The golden sands, presumably imported, look a little out of place in this vast industrial centre, and even the pleasure port, itself a creation of recent decades, still has a very urbanised, working feel to it.

The restaurants along the paseo are clearly tourist-centric however, and as we walked along, I made a point of avoiding every restaurant which had posted a waiter outside, touting for business. As this left no options open to us, we opted instead for the arm of the Marian Real Juan Carlos I. There a rather tatty looking cafe, 39o 27N, appeared nevertheless inviting, offering us a prime position in the sun, next to the sea. Too good to resist in fact, and despite a rather unfortunate incident when I sat on a man’s coat for some 5 minutes believing it to be a complimentary blanket (thus inadvertently stealing his table causing him to walk off in a huff) we relaxed into a good hour’s worth of sun worship next to the blues of the Med and the sparkling white of the shore. From out on the harbour arm, the industrialised landscape beyond almost looked romantic.

Croquetas for lunch…

After a few croquetas and a small cerveza, we headed back in land, preferring the pull of the old town to this recently fabricated coastline. Heading up again to the north of the old centre as we had the previous day, we were aiming towards the second of Valencia’s two main artistic attractions: the Institute of Modern Art (IVAM). IVAM is said to be one of Europe’s finest museums of contemporary art. Set within a vast spacious building (as contemporary art museums often are) and close to the old Turia riverbank, it is a building full of fragmented exhibitions, but somewhat lacking in a consistent display. When we turned up, I was a little confused to be handed around 6 leaflets, each in turn providing information about different temporary exhibitions being held at the site. Very little of the museum’s permanent collection, which I understand to be large, was on display – there was an exhibition of the metal abstract sculptures of Julio Gonzalez, and an exhibition of the paintings of Valencian painter, Ignacio Pinazo, another exponent of the Impressionist mood in Spain. Otherwise all offerings were temporary, not that this made them any less interesting.

Jeff Koons jewellery

Of particular interest was the exhibition From Picasso to Jeff Koons, an exhibition not of the artists’ ordinary works, but of their creations in jewellery. Thus we were treated to a wide range of artistic jewellery, arranged in various artistic genres, from minimalism to surrealism, and included, as the name suggests, creations from the likes of Koons (his inflated rabbit was made into a rather fetching silver necklace) and Dali (though sadly not his Mae West lips which I have seen recreated as a ruby broach in another exhibition). We also enjoyed a show entitled Arte y Espiritualidad, in which the relationship between art and spirituality was examined. I particularly enjoyed the various installations made from multiple skulls in plastic and pastel coloured material (they looked a bit like sherbet), as well as the interplay between old religious works and very modern creations. I also loved the work of Equipo Cronica, a brilliant Spanish artist who takes works of popular Spanish culture (Picasso, Valezquez, Goya) and reinvents them for the modern age. Below is his work, El Patio de las Tentaciones (1972) which to my mind appears to be based on Velazquez’s Mother Jerónima de la Fuente.

Equipo Cronica, El Patio de las Tentaciones (1972)

Leaving IVAM, we had one more treat in store before the day’s end. Passing again by chance, we stumbled upon the Jardin de los Hespérides, a stunning contemporary garden space which, I learn subsequently, has been awarded prizes aplenty for its modern garden design. Simple in its layout, and uniform in its alignment of fragrant cypress trees, citruses and low banks of herbs, the garden is a place of calm sanctuary from the bustling city beyond. In the background, the rear of a beautifully ornate church contrasts wonderfully with the abrasive metals and harsh lines which make up the garden. Meanwhile, in the foreground, wonderfully expressive sculptures are like cubist creations come to life.

From Sea and Semana Santa, to a contemporary sanctuary in the midsts of the Valencian city centre, this day has once again introduced us to yet further facets of this diverse and variable city. And yet tomorrow there will be greater variance still – for we’re heading down river, to the City of Arts and Sciences, the modern architectural creation which has propelled Valencia forward as one of the world’s leading exponents of architectural innovation and, perhaps inevitably, the less comfortable epithet of one of Spain’s most extravagant spenders…

Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (ii) – Food Focus 1: Palo Alto (daily-norm.com)
Semana Santa – Inspiration for my Art (daily-norm.com)
Sunday Supplement – Road Traffic Control (The Semana Santa Code) (daily-norm.com)
The Daily Sketch – Viernes Santo (daily-norm.com)
The Daily Sketch – Norms do Semana Santa (daily-norm.com)
Semana Santa – Easter Spanish Style (daily-norm.com)

Feb 24

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Valencia (iii) – Photography Focus 1: Modernista architecture

Regulars to my blog will not be at all surprised to know that I was never far from my camera(s) as I traversed the quaint streets, wide esplanades and picturesque squares of Valencia. Photography, like art, is like an inseparable part of my inner personality, almost like an extra limb by which I can capture the compositions which line up and freeze into photo form in my mind’s eye as I look around me. Valencia was, unsurprisingly, ripe fodder for my photographic expressionism, and so many photos have resulted, that I thought it would be prudent to post my body of work thematically.

First up is a concentration on Modernista architecture, the movement of architecture which paralleled, and to some extent expanded our own art nouveau style, an artistic drive which embellished buildings with floral, leafy detail, replaced straight lines with daring curves and undulations, and generally rewrote the rules of conservative architectural standards.

Valencia’s offerings of Modernismo are not as abundant or over the top as the prized examples of Barcelona’s Gaudi-led architecture, but there are nonetheless plenty of buildings to rave about. As a starting point, I was delighted to learn, upon arriving out our hotel, the Vincci Palace, that the hotel itself is set within one of Valencia’s most admired Modernista offerings, complete with elaborate miradores (corner balconies) of which (I was even more excited to discover) our room boasted one of two. In the same street (the Calle de la Paz), various other buildings overflow in Modernista detailing, from plaster rendering which looks almost alive with curving creeping plant details, to equally elaborate ironwork, but all combined with something of a Valencian focus as plaster and stone combines with softly-toned ceramic tiles.

Beyond the Calle de la Paz, examples of Modernismo are sprinkled across the city’s historic quarter, as wooden miradores, rounded windows, and examples aplenty of differing building shapes and styles standout from the more conventional linear architecture all around. In the impressive Plaza del Ayuntamiento, a plethora of decorated domes, statues and curving, meandering details are scattered across the architecturally diverse central square, while beyond, the Modernista facade of the grand central station, the Estacion del Norte, makes for an impressive entrance to the city’s main transport hub. Also in the centre, the grand Mercado Central is built in the Modernista tradition, with elaborate ironwork, coloured stained glass and more ceramic detailing proclaiming a central food market place for the people built in the Modernismo style.

It is without further ado that I share a gallery of the garlanded, stucco-covered, elaborately decorated buildings and street furnishings which make Valencia’s historic quarter a must-see centre of the Modernista movement.

: Plant detailing appearing to emerge from the rendering

: Elaborate modernista balconies

: Our hotel room had its own miradora (corner balcony)

: View from our miradora

: Green ceramic tiling with modernista stonework overlapping

: More elaborate wooden balconies

: The ironwork of the modernista central market

: The modernista facade of the Estacion del Norte

: Ceramic detailing on the modernista mercado

: Lion detailing on an advertising post

: Modernista elaborate domes

: Elaborate ironwork

: Outside of the Mercado Central

: Our hotel miradora from the outside

: Roof decoration aplenty in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento

: Modernista rounded windows

: Stained glass in the mercado central

: Our miradora balcony seen from inside

Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (ii) – Food Focus 1: Palo Alto (daily-norm.com)

Feb 22

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Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower

As I stood listening to the huge iron bell strike atop the Miguelete tower at 1pm, I was caused to reflect on where I had been just two weeks ago. Having climbed the 330-odd steps to the top of London’s Elizabeth Tower, to view the gigantic bell famous throughout the world as “Big Ben”, my ascendance up this latest bell tower marked my second climb up the steep spiralling steps of a campanile in as many weeks. Yet the differences in the visits were all too visible. In Elizabeth tower, the 330 steps were fairly gentle and wide; here the 207 steps were steep and arduous, narrowing as they got higher. In London, we were the only visitors on the stairs, whereas in the Miguelete tower high numbers of tourists meant crossing each other’s paths going up and down these narrow spirals was perilous to say the least. Up here, our ears only suffered one single bong, whereas up Big Ben at 12pm, 12 huge dongs reverberated around our bodies causing us near deafness and a strong case of jellylegs.

The city, viewed from above

But the biggest differences between these two bell towers were twofold: First, temperature – in London I perished in freezing cold winds, desperate to get inside behind the relative shelter of the clock’s huge stained-glass faces; whereas atop the Miguelete tower, I was in a pleasant 20 degrees. Secondly, the view: From Big Ben the city of London spread out beneath my feet, famous landmarks were one to the dozen, but they were basked in cold and grey and ice; here, another city spread before me – golden browns and auburn hues toped with elegant ceramic tiled domes of blues and greys, eau de nil and white, while towards the sea beyond, the eccentric discordant architectural forms of Santiago Calatrava’s revolutionary arts and science park rose from the now empty basin of the old river Turia. So what was the city I was viewing from this bell tower with such felicitous awe and inspiration? None other than Valencia.

Traditionally dressed Valencians cause a stir in the Plaza de la Virgen

The City of Arts and Sciences in the distance

Valencia, capital of its own eponymously self-named region and located on the Eastern Mediterranean coast of the Iberian Peninsular, is Spain’s third largest city and one of the most visited in the country. Famous for Las Fallas, its March festival in which huge models are paraded down the city streets in a carnival of colour and festivity, as well as the rather oddly traditional mass human tomato fight (La Tomatina) which is held each August in the nearby town of Buñol, Valencia is a city with many facets, from its charming old centre, to its super modern Ciudad de las artes y las ciencias which boasts such startlingly innovative architecture as to have put Valencia on the architectural map of the world.

It seemed appropriate that having explored so much of my beloved Spain, I would eventually make it to this bustling Spanish centre, and all the more so at Valentines, a festival which shares so much of the city’s name. Romance wasn’t exactly my priority however – I was visiting with my Mother, with whom I have a shared love for Spanish culture – although it was certainly not lacking in the picturesque streets, charming street cafes, and large open squares of this iconic Spanish heartland.

Views of Valencia’s historic quarter

Staying in the heart of Valencia’s historic centre, in the conveniently located, wonderfully modernista Vincci Palace Hotel, we were only a short stroll away from the Plaza de la Virgen and next door, the Plaza de la Reina, in between which the city’s principle cathedral and it’s Miguelete bell tower mark the city’s centre-point. And what a place to begin what has surely followed as a love affair with this diverse and inviting city (although the steep spiralling stairs down from the tower did perhaps make sightseeing for the remainder of the day a little more tiresome). The cathedral’s tower is however only one aspect of this architecturally multi-faceted building. From austere gothic nave, to elaborate renaissance altar, and classical colonnaded rear to a front entrance dripping in baroque details, the cathedral is, to a degree, a perfect representation of this city. Not only is it situated at the beating heart of the city’s historical centre, but it demonstrates the plethora of influences and historical changes which have helped to shape and expand Valencia into the sprawling and diverse city it is today.

The Cathedral’s gothic interior

and its baroque facade

And a poor headless saint

So with a taste for the city’s multi-faceted personality, we spent our morning ambling contentedly from one square to another, down narrow little streets full of souvenir shops and cafes, photographing fountains and statues of (sometimes headless) saints and sinners, and noting the details of human gargoyles and colonnaded arches, heavily decorated churches and shady orange-tree lined courtyards which fill the old quarter.

After lunch, and having reached the northern extent of the old town, we crossed what was once the River Turia in pursuit of the city’s fine art collection. The old River Turia is perhaps one of the oddest elements of the city. Once a thriving great river which ran around the city’s historic centre like the caressing arm of a lover, the river caused such devastating floods in 1957 that the decision was taken to divert the river away from the city and out to the Mediterranean via a different course. The result is a strange ghost of what was once – still the river bed runs around the city, and still the bridges which once crossed water cross this large basin. However instead of water, along the old river bed runs extensive gardens for some 9km. The effect is to inject a huge swathe of greenery running through the heart of the city’s modern expanse, but it’s also an odd one – the base of bridges, normally plunging into water, plunge straight into concrete and flower beds instead – a ghost of what once was.

The Museum of fine arts with the gardens now in the old river bed in front

A bridge plunges into concrete on the old river

So crossing the ghost of the Turia, we arrived at the aptly named Museo de Bellas Artes. Said to have a collection second only in size to Madrid’s Prado (although I’m not sure how – the Reina Sofia in Madrid seems much bigger, although perhaps Valencia’s complete collection is not out on display) the museum is a cornucopia of paintings from Spain’s golden age of painting, including a self-portrait by Velazquez, several works by Goya, and an incredibly beautiful painting of Saint Sebastian by de Ribera (see below). The purity of his skin, pierced by arrows and tended to by the Saint Irene, against the beauty of his face, almost ecstatic with the extent of his martyrdom, made for an incredible painting to behold.

St Sebastian tended by St Irene, by Jose de Ribera (1591-1652)

Also at the gallery are the works of leading Spanish exponent of the impressionist school, Joaquin Sorolla. Valencian born, and bequeathing his works to his home city on the condition that they would be collected together in a gallery such as this, the museum boasts a fine collection of mainly portraits which provide an evocative, very personal view of the city and its residents. Of particular attraction, for me, were his nudes and human studies, such as this academic study of a male, below. Also at the more modern end of the collection was this beautiful study of Cherries by Pons Amau, who perfectly captures the effect of sun shining through the leaves of this cherry tree.

Joaquin Sorolla, Academic Study from Life (Man) (1887)

Francisco Pons Amau, Cherries (1886-1953)

Oh and beyond the paintings, I should also mention the museum’s two palatial courtyards, one red and one blue, both bursting with busts and relics from antiquity, the perfect places of calm to explore towards the end of our first Valencian day.

Other highlights from the Museo Bellas Artes

So from the 207 steps of the Miguelete bell tower, across the historic quarter of Valencia, over the old Turia river and around the Belles Artes museum, our first day in Valencia presented a complex opening in this urban tale, a tale in which we were presented with the undeniable beauty of Valencia’s belles arts, as well as the clamouring melodies of its bells, ringing out in recognition that the central heart of this vast city bursts full of vigour for all to see, hear and explore. And that’s just what we intend to do tomorrow.

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Big Ben at close Quarters – the Elizabeth Tower Tour (daily-norm.com)

Feb 7

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Big Ben at close Quarters – the Elizabeth Tower Tour

It’s almost certainly one of the perks of the job of working for the British Government that occasionally you get to peek behind the scenes of the nation’s famous landmarks, monuments and buildings – icons which have made Britain and in particular the city of London famous throughout the world. And without a doubt one such perk, in which I have most recently indulged, is getting a tour up London’s most famous landmark of all: Big Ben.

Of course I didn’t actually go up Big Ben. For as we Londoners are so fond of telling everyone who mentions the BB words, “Big Ben” is not actually the name of the bell tower at all – rather the tower is now officially titled “Elizabeth Tower”, a title bestowed upon it only last year in celebration of HRH Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee. “Big Ben”, meanwhile, is the name of the massive bell which sits atop the tower and rings out across Westminster at every quarter past, to, on and half past the hour. And having stood right next to it today as it bonged out the hour at midday, I can confirm that it is both very big and very, VERY loud!

The Tower itself was an innovative new feature of the Palace of Westminster when it was redesigned by architect Charles Barry (who also designed Highclere Castle, none other than the real Downton Abbey for those Downton fans amongst you) following a great fire which destroyed the original Parliament building in 1834. For the tower itself, Barry looked to Augustus Pugin for assistance, an expert on the Gothic revival style of architecture, the likes of which has become characteristic of the Palace of Westminster and makes the finished complex look far older than it actually is. The tower went up slowly – it took some 16 years to build to its full 315 feet before finally being completed in 1859.

As for Big Ben and the clock itself, when this was designed it was fashioned to be the best of its kind and surpass all clocks like it around the world. And for a time, it did so (it’s still the 3rd tallest free-standing clock tower in the world, and probably the most famous). Designed by a barrister, no less, Edmund Beckett Denison, together with George Airy, Astronomer Royal, and constructed by Edward John Dent, the clock was a feat of engineering for the time, not least because it was designed to be within a second’s accuracy at all times, despite the fact that up in the tower, the clock faces are exposed to such a battering from the elements. Without getting too techy (largely because I don’t understand the technology all that well) the clock consists of various counterweights which move up and down the full height of the tower, which in turn power the clock faces and the various hammers which create the clock’s characteristic bong every 15 minutes. The clock needs to be wound up 3 times a week, and various clock winders are always on hand for the job, although electricity today does much of what it once took an army of men to achieve through brute strength alone.

The stairs looking up (a little daunting) (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

Stairs looking down (not good for those with vertigo) (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

The machinery of the clock (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

The clock is an incredible marvel to bestow, and all the more so from up close. Getting there wasn’t exactly easy. Entering Portcullis House, the new modern entrance to Parliament, we had to go through airport style security before being taken down stylish escalators, descending into the earth which in turn led us to a passage taking us directly beneath Parliament Square and into the grounds of Parliament itself. From there, the starkly modern architecture of Portcullis house metamorphosed rapidly back in time to the iconic gothic decoration of the Palace of Westminster. Soon reaching the small door of the tower, our descent began up all 334 stone spiral steps to the top of the tower.

View from the Tower

This wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Luckily we were allowed to stop roughly one third of the way up for a very informative talk about the tower’s history from tour guide Catherine Moss, before making the final trek, first up to watch the machinery of the clock itself before continuing to see the infamous bells. Well timed as ever, our visit to see the huge cogs and wires of the clock coincided with a quarter to midday, enabling us to see all of the still-original machinery in action, but missing none of the action on the hour itself. This great joy was reserved for the upper platform, above the clock-face, where we emerged just before 12 to stand by the incredibly large Big Ben bell as the clock struck 12.

A quarter bell (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

Big Ben from above (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

Big Ben on the right (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

The chime of the tower, with its melodic 20-chime sequence played by the four Quarter bells, followed by the deep bong of Big Ben itself, is a sound which is well known to us Londoners, and has particular significance every 31 December as it heralds in the new year to the accompaniment of a spectacular firework display. But being up close to the bells as they played out this celebrated tune was nothing short of incredible. The vibration which went through our bodies made for a totally immersive experience (we were given ear plugs I should note), and I must admit to being ever so slightly emotional as I saw, and felt, the familiar chime of Big Ben in action but centimetres away (luckily the wind was so strong that if I had been caused to shed a tear or two – and I’m not saying I did! – the wind disguised it). The chime, by the way, is apparently a variation on a phrase from Handel’s Messiah – the part shortly after the Alleluia chorus.

Our tour guide, Catherine Moss (AP Photo)

The famous clock face (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

The clock face (Parliamentary copyright images are reproduced with the permission of Parliament)

After embracing the great bong of Big Ben and the various Quarter bells in all their mighty fortitude, the final stop of the tour was to head down a level to the most prominent feature of the tower – the four sided clock face. We were able to stand just behind the world-famous clock faces, and see the now fantastically environmentally friendly long-life bulbs, especially designed to light up the huge clock faces with maximum efficiency by Philips, which are placed evenly behind the huge stained glass clock faces. Yet again, this was quite a marvel to behold, not least being able to appreciate just how huge these clock faces really are.

So heading back down the tower, perhaps a little more deaf than when we came up, I descended feeling extraordinarily lucky – access to Big Ben isn’t easy – you need to organise a tour through your local MP, although once organised, the trip is free. But that aside, I would have paid good money to enjoy this exposure to one of the country’s most loved national icons at close quarters, not least to learn the fascinating history of the tower, and gain an understanding of just how that all important national timekeeper keeps ticking onwards day after day.

Details on how to visit Big Ben can be found on the Parliament website.

Jan 19

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Paris: la visite d’art – Les Photos

I’ve already mentioned that my recent trip to Paris had been justified on the basis that there were at least 3 tremendous exhibitions on show which I was bursting to see. But likewise, while I always try to rationalise my extravagance in visiting Paris as often as possible, for those who really appreciate the aesthetic beauty, the artistic perfection of life, I need justify this visit no further, nor indeed any other foray into this undeniably beguiling city. Just one look at my recent set of Paris photos is justification in itself. For where else on earth could a heaving, busy, pulsating capital city exhibit such indisputably captivating elegance? From its broad Haussmann boulevards and narrow cobbled streets, to the blue lacquered doorways and red wings of the Moulin Rouge Windmill, Paris is a paradise of unparalleled artistic ravishment, seducing every species of the creative collective within its fold.

I have taken so many photographs of Paris, and every time I visit, I think there cannot possibly be anything left for me to capture. And yet with each new visit, Paris proves that I was wrong to doubt, bounteous as it is with fodder for even the most seasoned photographer, constant inspiration to those who like me, cannot resist the temptation to immortalise this city in a thousand new shots at every turn of the corner.

This time round I became freshly inspired by the quaint streets of Montmartre, and the rubicund red of the Moulin Rouge. I was enchanted by some of the smaller details such as the glossy blue lions on the doors of official government buildings, and by contrast, captivated by the creative graffiti art lining the stairs leading up to the infamous Butte de Montmartre, and the oddities of the urban landscape such as this almost melted pavement, above. So from shots of shop signs and garlic filled snails, to souvenirs aplenty and cityscapes which are like poetry on the eyes, I leave you now with just a few of my recent photos – my ode to the true art of Paris: Paris itself.

Paris: la visite d’art – Exhibition 2: Bohèmes (daily-norm.com)
Paris: la visite d’art – Exhibition 1: Hopper (daily-norm.com)

Nov 26

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The Lisbon Sketch II – Norms on a Tram

It’s another busy day in Lisbon’s Praça do Comércio, bustling central square of Portugal’s capital city, and transport hub for the many passing rambling little trams from Lisbon’s pre-war era. Here in the square which was the site of Lisbon’s former palace before revolution in 1910 made it the centre of the new Republic’s administration, Lisbon locals, business Norms, and tourist Norms alike mix, mingle and meander against the backdrop of the square’s vast geometric cobbled paving and its impressive triumphal arch.

But for these Norms, there is little time to gaze in wonder at the palatial surroundings. For now it’s time to board the number 83 tram which will take these little passengers straight along the coast to Belém, under the gigantic Ponte 25 de Abril and past the little residential districts sprawling in its ample shadow. It’s a busy day and there are plenty already on board, as as these Norms are about to find out, it doesn’t take much to fill these cute little vehicles. Best let them get on with it…

Norms on a Tram in the Praça do Comércio, Lisbon (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

The Lisbon Sketch – Norm Monument to Discoveries (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – The Photos: Part I (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – The Photos: Part II (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa (daily-norm.com)

Nov 22

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Lisbon – The Photos: Part II

It’s time for the second raft of my photographic tour of lisbon, a tiny digitalised image captured in time, but helping me to immortalise colourful, beautiful Lisbon in my memories for life. From graffiti galore and trams aplenty, there’s chipped ceramics and cast iron door knockers; beautiful pink bourganvilla casting long shadows across white-washed walls, and triumphal statues standing still and staring boldly across the city. In Lisbon I captured ancient religious icons inspiring solemnity and awe, and the vivid feathers of a peacock, nature’s great gift to us all. There’s wavy paving patterns, dilapidated old doors, and the chestnut seller filling the street with great billowing festive smoke; there’s stone steps in the sunlight, tram wires criss-crossing the sky and elegant fountains glittering in the sun.

This is Lisbon, captured on my camera.

All photographs and content © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa (daily-norm.com)

Nov 21

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Lisbon – The Photos: Part I

It already feels so far away, our time in Lisbon. The realities of daily London life, the rush hour on the tube, the cold fronts and the grubby newspapers, the traffic jams and the lack of sun, all play their part in driving a wedge deeper between today and our holiday in the vivacious, exciting and at all times colourful Portuguese capital. Luckily, with a wade of 1200 photographs constantly on slideshow in my flat, I can never truly feel the true isolatory chill of winter knocking at my door, so long as the warm hues of my Lisbon photographs pour life back into my home.

After some 6 posts, you’d think I’d have run out of photographs, but there are many many more I could share. I therefore plan to publish what is really just a handful of some of my favourite shots across two photography posts devoted to Lisbon. These photos don’t really need captions or much introduction. They are, of themselves, a group of varied snapshots of Lisbon, its architecture, its colours, its people, and its more unique facets; a cascade of quick glimpses into the life and the look of an incomparable, soulful and visually titillating city. From the smallest of details, like the tile-lined step of a little town house, to the vast awe-inspiring views over the Tagus river, this is Lisbon, captured on my camera.

Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa (daily-norm.com)

Nov 19

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Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa

Four full days in Lisbon was, it turned out, a convenient little break in which to comfortably and conveniently explore the best of the city’s four main regions: the hill of Bairro Alto, the hill of Alfama, out to Belém and back to the large avenidas of the Baixa, splaying upwards from the Tagus and outwards North of the city in a valley between the two hills. Although this was officially our fifth day in the city, the first, once we had arrived, was more of an evening of orientation. Today, with our suitcases packed, and the Lx Boutique Hotel left behind, the bulk of the day reminded available for discovery, with an evening flight giving us time for one last Lisbon hurrah. It was to the Baixa we headed, perhaps mercifully so, as after four previous days of trekking up what are, at times, the steep streets of Lisbon, the Baxia provided plenty of spacious, flat boulevards and squares for us to explore with comparative ease.

Chestnut seller

The Baixa region is far more typical of a southern European city. Built in the aftermath of Lisbon’s deadly 1755 earthquake in a grid-like layout which allowed for wide sweeping avenues and grand open squares, the Baixa really shows off Lisbon to the full. This is where you find the opulent fountains, the monuments, the old palaces and the new shopping districts which are to be expected of a capital city. Here the buildings are largely Neo-Classical, grander and better preserved. The streets bustle not just with tourists but with the working masses of the city. And although the sun was shining hard, the many shops lining the grand boulevards were packed with Christmas goodies, while on the roadsides, chestnuts were being roasted pouring plumes of smoke into the air and spreading a distinctive warming smell of Christmas all around.

We began the day in the Praça do Municipio, and more particularly the City Hall, where an incredibly interesting, and free of charge photography exhibition examined Lisbon’s significant role during WW2. As a neutral country and on the edge of Europe, Lisbon became a place of escape from the toils of Europe. It handled the exile of significant numbers of escaping Jewish refugees, but was also a place of espionage, spies and political deals, as both Germany and England fought to keep the favour of Salizar and in particular ensure supplies of the natural minerals which, once mined, could prove significant to the production of weaponry during the war. But despite all of this, Lisbon retained some element of normality during a time of European strife. For those lucky enough to have escaped the rest of warring Europe, Lisbon was a place of relative tranquility, albeit laced with suspicion, full of secret police and suffering more and more from food shortages as the war went on.

Back in the modern world, and turning from the photos of black and white to the vivid blues of a Portuguese sky, the deep “royal” yellow of the old palace surrounding the impressive Praça do Comércio, and the reds and yellows of the old trams passing through the square, we headed to this former site of the Portuguese royal palace before it became administrative offices of the Republican government following Portugal’s 1910 revolution. Open on one end of the square to the glittering River Tagus beyond, we determined the square to be a perfect location for a coffee, sitting down to do just that while basking in the sun for as long as possible before our later departure to colder climes.

After coffee, we crossed under the impressive triumphal arch to the north of the square, up the Ruo Augusta and into the shopping streets and the great squares beyond. The decay and detrioration of much of Lisbon was not so obvious here, as grandeur dominated and scale took over.

In the Praça Dom Pedro IV, two huge working fountains made a marked contrast to the fountains further North in the city, left to go green with disuse. The square is flanked on one side by the eye-catching Neo-Manueline face of the Rossio Station, complete with two Moorish-style horse-shoe arches and, sadly, a Starbucks. To the North, another grand square, the Praça dos Restauradores boasts a grand obelisk, adorned with sculptures paying homage to those who gave their life during the War of Restoration, while to the East, the Praça da Figuera is home to hundreds of pigeons and the imposing statue of King João I. Here you can quite clearly see Lisbon in its heyday, the grand European capital which was saviour to so many during WW2. You can sense the splendour of the past and see history and grandeur oozing from every building facade and lamp post. And unlike many other European capitals, the squares of Lisbon benefit from the rolling topography of its surroundings, so that in every grand boulevard and Praça, a backdrop of the Alfama and the Castelo de São Jorge, or a straight vista to the sparkling Tagus, provides the visitor with a multi-layered feast for the eyes. A landscape rich in its historical and architectural diversity.

Both history and architecture collided to stunning effect in one of the last surprises of the trip. En route to the Rua de Santo Antão, famed for its fish restaurants, we passed through the Largo São Domingos, a little square sandwiched inbetween its grander neighbours, and, passing the fairly innocuous facade of São Domingo thought we may as well drop in. What we saw upon our entrance made me gasp out loud.

Unmentioned in my travel guide, and not at all obvious from the outside, the interior of this church made my heart miss a beat. Not because of the usual offerings of elaborate gilded beauty and over the top baroque decorations. Quite the opposite. Apparently (so I have learned subsequently), the church suffered a huge fire in 1954, with the result that its interior ornamentation, surface marbles, stone work – pretty much every embellishment was completely destroyed. Having never been renovated, but only the ceiling painted a terracotta orange, the church is utterly bare of all ornamentation, showing its raw and tender bruising and wounds with the dignity of a religious martyr; its statues now unrecognisable, its stone work covered in huge great cracks, holes and patches of damp and detritus. Where the sun streamed in through the southern windows and hit various aspects of the architectural damage, it looked like the church had been submerged for centuries under an ocean gloom, only recently recovered and showing the acid wounds of its salty submersion, or like the cobweb covered, partially decomposed wedding banquet of Dickens’ Miss Havisham. And this deeply inflicted damage was all the more obvious and painful because this church has not been left as ruins. Rather, as a fully used institution, the tidy pews and perfectly smooth ceiling mark a dramatic contrast to the wounds inflicted underneath. This was an unmissable experience, a moment of great epiphany and one which no visitor to Lisbon should miss.

So the day was proceeding fast, and all that really remained for us to do was to sit back, in the glaring autumn sunshine, and enjoy a perfect plate of squid and octapus and a few glasses of ice cold white wine, whiling away the remaining hours before the inevitable return journey began. Time to reflect on a grand tour through a compact but multifaceted city, from castles to rivers, and art museums to stunning churches; time to appreciate the wonderful Lx Boutique Hotel, the great food consumed, and the fantastic restaurants found to recommend and maybe return to one day; time to enjoy the heat of summer once more, before the start of a long frosty winter back in London.

Like the fall of autumn leaves on a windy November day, the scenes from that sun-drenched lunchtime are now dissipating away, as I sit here, returned to London, back in the darkness of a winter’s evening. Distracted by the work I must return to, the practicalities of ironing, and washing, and making myself food, my connection with my holiday grows weaker by the minute, as the warmth of the sun is forever shrouded in the weak light of November, and our shiny red cockerel is the sole remaining proximity to the spirited Portugal of our holiday’s brief acquaintance. But with this blog, my separation is tempered, my ties with Lisbon reforming as I reconnect through cyberspace and share my experiences with you all. Day five is over, but my memories have only just begun.

Still to come: Lisbon – the food, and many more photos. See you then.

Photographs and content © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)

Nov 18

8 Comments

Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor

On 1 November 1755, the shape of Lisbon was changed forever. 20 churches collapsed, fires ravaged the city, a gigantic tsunami washed up on the shore causing widescale flooding, an estimated 15,000 Lisbon residents lost their lives and over half of the urban landscape was reduced to rubble. The cause was an earthquake so large that it is now recorded as one of the deadliest in history, an earthquake which was felt as far away as Italy but for poor Lisbon, the fabric of the city was literally raised to the ground.

The Alfama and the Castelo seen from below

Recovering from that destruction, the city was rebuilt, and the large swathes of grid-patterned streets which fill the centre of the city today are the work of the Marquez de Pombal and the major reconstruction of the capital. However to the East of the city is one noticeable exception. Up on its hill, above the low lying centre, the area of Alfama missed much of the destruction. Many of the buildings survived and the flooding never got this far. What results is a true slice of Lisbon history, an area which, as the name suggests has Moorish origins from the city’s early beginnings, and whose twisty compact streets and steep stairways retain the Moorish layout and the medieval construction of what was once the whole of Lisbon up on its commanding hill. The Alfama is less grand, for sure, than the wide boulevards and piazzas below, but utterly idyllic in its picturesque imperfection, its windy wobbly streets, its cracking facades and cobbled paving, its coloured houses and chipped ceramics, its flower pots, laundry hung streets and plant-packed balconies. In the Alfama one felt the true heart of Lisbon, a little dilapidated treasure trove of pictorial and historical delight. And that was exactly where we headed today.

The Alfama was a joy to walk around. We had no itinerary, no predetermined destination, other than to gradually climb the winding streets upwards until reaching the Castelo de São Jorge, the castle which crowns the top of the hill. On our way we passed Sé, Lisbon’s principal Cathedral – an impressive castle-like structure from the outside, although rather gloomy on the inside; we saw the Casa dos Bicos, the conspicuous property with diamond-shaped stones adorning its facade; we marveled at the stunning views over the Eastern Tagus from the Miradouro da Graça; and we dropped into little antique shops, tiny stores crammed with ceramic cockerels, port and postcards and little chapels branded with ancient blue and white painted tiles.

Diamond-shaped stone facade of the Casa dos Bicos

The Cathedral Sé

The blue and white tiled facade of Santa Luzia

View from the Miradouro da Graça

Eventually, as promised, we found our way to the Porta de São Jorge, the imposing castle gate which leads, not onto the main Castelo de São Jorge directly, but first into the ancient residential district of Santa Cruz, a tiny maze of little streets, strung with washing and adorned with pots and flowers, all of which is packed into the castle walls of this ancient citadel. We couldn’t resist exploring these streets, and although the labyrinthine quality meant that we managed to go round in circles on at least 3 occasions, we did manage to find an extremely charming little wine bar, Instinctus (Rua Santa Cruz do Castelo) where the equally charming owner treated us like guests in a family home, preparing traditional but beautifully presented, fresh and delicious bacalao (cod) and sardines, and recommending that all important Portuguese wine – a merlot grape grown in the south of the country. It rushed to our heads like a tidal wave of silken chocolate. It was delicious.

The Santa Cruz district may be small, but after lunch we managed to stumble into another cute cafe, where we indulged in the requisite coffee and a couple of pastel de natas. All this before we once again swayed along the cobbled streets and into the main complex of the castle.

The Castelo de São Jorge emanates directly from the Moorish era, captured in 1147 by the Christian King Afonso Henriquez who transformed the complex into the residence of the Portuguese Kings. The castle did not go completely unscathed in the 1755 earthquake, and many of the ramparts remained in ruins until 1938 when Salazar began a complete renovation. Rebuilding the “medieval” walls and adding gardens and the peacocks who wander around today, the result is a castle which looks both ruined and well-kept – it is an example, I think, of what they called “controlled-clutter”. Old wells, fallen pillars, large weathered stones and rusting old canons surrounded by a bounty of plant life, all set within grounds whose outer terrace boasts incredible views over central Lisbon, the Baixa, Bairro Alto and out towards Belém.

As the sun set over Lisbon and the skies gradually yellowed behind the silhouette of the 25 de Abril bridge, so too did our time in this great city start to draw to an end. Tomorrow we will leave, albeit after a further few hours of exploration. For now however it was time to leave the castle, whose ramparts were growing chilly in the increasing autumn winds and the fading peachy-hued sun, and attempt to make our way down the hill through the winding Moorish streets while we could still remember the way.

Back down in the Lx Boutique Hotel, we had a great dinner to prepare for – a tasting menu at the 100 Manieras, a restaurant whose exquisite cuisine deserves a post all of its own.

For now however…Boa-noite.