Reading Mani in the Mani

I remember buying my copy, but my memory is wrong. I remember buying it in Hay on Wye in Summer 2004, back in its glory days for second-hand books. I can even see the shelf. But I didn't go to Hay on Wye till the October. Who knows where I bought it. I certainly didn't know what it was. I was at the end of my Byzantine masters, caught up in the labyrinthine seductions of medieval Greece. I had barely read any travel literature at all, half of which other people had bought for me. I certainly hadn’t heard of its author, and I couldn’t have placed the peninsular on a map (this last is perhaps most embarrassing). I read it immediately, and I loved it. I bought pretty much the rest of the Fermor corpus in the months that followed. I even have the mediocre novel. And while the Constantinople trilogy is the most famous, it is to Mani that I keep returning. It is absolutely my favourite.

Because of this, I engineered taking my family to the Mani this Easter, and I reread it in the Mani, fifteen years after I last read it; more than twenty since I first did. And, as well as visiting his house in Kardamyli, we stayed in Areopoli, and drove to the southern tip. The roads were too terrifying to drive all the way round, but Fermor took a boat for most of that bit too, so I don’t feel bad about that. I got most of the locations, except that I forgot one of the nearest villages to where we were staying. It was superb. I even got to read out sections of it on location, which did not endear me to my children.

And we did it in a day. The astonishing thing about reading Mani is that the whole itinerary can be driven in less than three hours, if you don't stop. There are whole sections where they take mules up tracks; there are whole sections where Fermor doesn’t even take the track because it’s impossible and he takes a boat. In both cases, there is now a road, much of which isn't even single track. I don't know where you would source a boat, or for that matter a mule. In some villages, it's not clear where you would source anything. Some of the villages are pretty much empty; all of them are tamed. Kitta, famous for the last bloodfeud in the region, is now central for its supermarket. 

And yet, the geography is still the geography, and the history isn't very far away. Kitta was silent when we visited (apart from a couple of cars coming to the supermarket), but the towers of Nomia are still just across the valley. It is not a dramatic feat of imagination to take yourself back to those battles. The past lingers longer in empty backwaters than in bustling modern cities. It is easier to project back where there is little there. However, no matter how much was there, it would not be possible to change the absolute insanity of Vatheia’s hilltop towers, which have to be approached to be believed. The road was newer there – and I was profoundly grateful for it.

But the Mani itself isn't the only reason it is easy to scrape back the layers of history to the book; it's also because the book is already doing that for you. Fermor spends much more time talking about his sense of culture and history of where is than the experience of being there. Kitta's last feuds, which he evokes with such immediacy, happened in the 1870s. No one alive then was alive when he visited. This is not a thing you would know from reading the book. This blurring of past and present happens a lot. A shaky drawing of the coat of arms he sees in the church at Areopoli is presented with a rhetorical flourish as possibly imperial and Byzantine. In Areopoli, I went to the church. The board outside tells me it is the coat of arms of the most famous family in the Mani - the Mavromichalis. He will have known that, but it's a much better myth if the fact is left untold.

The precision of sites and locations in Areopoli is at the start of the book and the location of the coat of arms is testament to the clarity of description he was capable of. Only when looking to recreate the route, does it become very clear how skeletal the route actually is in the writing. Certainly the sequence of visits is uncertain. A string of villages get no more than namechecks in the text; he visits precisely one village on the east coast before doubling back to the west and then sailing up the Gytheio. Thre are great descriptive sections (I enjoyed reading Fermor's description Mezapos bay), and there are superb set pieces (I fell in love with it years earlier in the Byzantine flight of fancy right at the start), but the act of travel is very minimally present.

I've seen complaints about this. That Mani suffers in comparison to the Constantinopolitan trilogy because of their propulsion of their narrative. But it's clearly deliberate. This is a book about his Greece and the Mani is an exemplar of that. An extraordinary about Mani is the amount of time that is devoted to essentially atmosphere, a pleasing amount of which is about getting drunk. I remembered the sections where he goes off on tangents about his thoughts on (e.g.,) icon painting. I didn't remember the narrative asides where he directly addresses the reader apologising for those tangents. It's an act of course - we know every word was carefully weighed and edited - it's why his books took so long to write - but it's a very good act.

And it works. Reading Mani in the Mani gave me a loose itinerary, but it also suffused the whole trip with a distinctive vision of Greece that is hugely compelling. Every sight carried both the present and layers of past with it, and all of it evoked a world already gone when Mani was written, but still accessible because it was.

Is this the best bar in the world? (with a short discourse on Tokyo)

We never intended to go to Matsumoto. Some FCO advice to not go to Tokyo meant we did some hasty rejigging of our Japanese itinerary from Beijing and we booked two nights in this mountain city near(ish) Tokyo for our final few days. However, I am delighted we did - it's a gem.

There are only two sights in Matsumoto - the castle is magnificent and its setting in the Japanese Alps couldn't be better. Every view of the castle is framed by them on the horizon or - in our case - the cherry blossom around the park. Inside the castle has all the cool things (arrow and musket holes, two moats, hidden floors) that we have come to expect, and the views from the top were fantastic. Secondly, Matsumoto has the Ukiyo-e museum, the most expensive museum we've been to in Japan (but still less than St Paul's, even for churchgoers who pay for its upkeep - but I digress) but was worth it. They - woodblock prints - are exquisite. Anna was beside herself with excitement, and I thought it was ace. We're now a little poorer and spent much of the next few days struggling to work out how to bring back a handmade copy back to the UK without damaging it, but we did it.

However, these pale into insignificance beside my discovery of what is essentially the best bar in the world, called I think Jun. On our lovely Ryokan's hand drawn map of the city, there was a little bar to the north which simply said 'if you like whiskey and Monty Python' - we went. It was amazing and a labour of love for the owners even if not with the public (it wasn't busy even on a Friday). The bar, walls and even the floor were up to three deep in whiskey with piles of publications relating to whisky in the common area. The walls were covered with film posters, with the Rocky Horror Picture Show prominently displayed and stills of Dylan and the Doors by the entrance. The bar area were covered with Python cards and the flags of all the home nations adorned the top and ceiling. Save for a lack of reference to Byzantine and early Christian history and a lack of port I could have designed it. Anna at one point opined that she wasn't sure it was real and not called forth from my imagination. The owner was delightful and took us through some (very lovely) Japanese whisky, even throwing some little side tastings of interesting whiskies for free. Despite this, it was hideously expensive, but it was totally worth it.

Tokyo was a bit of a disappointment after this, but fun enough. I'm glad we cut down to a day there as a lot of the city was still subdued - early closing for museums, some escalators not working etc. However, even at full tilt I'm not sure how much I would have liked it - too many people, too little to see. That said, we had a very jolly evening there on our last night and much sushi to remember Japan by.

The Birmingham of Japan

A & I have been trying to work out which UK cities Japanese cities correspond to. It doesn't really work that well - Osaka is probably a bit like Manchester, but clearly better, and while it's hard to pigeonhole Kyoto, though it may be a bit like a supercharged Oxford. However, Fukuoka is definitely like Birmingham. Everyone we told that we were going there asked us why? We had to explain that we were using it as a base for Nagasaki and Beppu. There is very little to do in Fukuoka, but it has a string of bars and good transport links. Just like Birmingham, though probably warmer.

As indicated, we didn't actually spend any time in the city itself during the day, though the bars were fun - A in particular liked a bar that had impromptu karaoke with her, a random Korean and a Japanese businessman. I preferred the sushi restaurant where I could get horsemeat sushi. However, both Nagasaki and Beppu were fantastic visits. Beppu is a little ridiculous, having some splendidly kitsch and overblown 'hells' or hot springs. But they were much fun, and there's a great gimmicky restaurant by the Tourist Information, where you can cook your lunch in the steam. In fact, there was steam everywhere - we saw some coming up from a hole in the tarmac in a car park. It's put to best use in the onsen of course. Nagasaki was less absurd, with the inevitable memorials to the bomb, though Hiroshima did it better, and the less said about the nonsensical peace statue the better. However, the museum was still moving. Better were the string of temples to the south and the Glover gardens. I hadn't realised how international the city had been, and the legacy of this internationality and Christianity shines through. It also had Anna's favourite beer and gyoza bar where we spent one of our favourite early evenings of the holiday.

Oh, and the regional speciality of Kyushu (the western island where all these are located) is Shochu. Do not drink it ever; it was used as a disinfectant in the Edo period - this seems as appropriate now as then.

In the shadow of the mushroom cloud

Hiroshima is now only figuratively under the shadow of the bomb, but that shadow is long. So far, we seem to have been to parts of Japan that will forever be defined by their history. But while Kyoto glories in an imperial past that it has polished and renewed; for Hiroshima, the bomb's pervasive influence is sombre, though there is much else to note and like about the city. This is not just a result of its 'fame', but the physical impact of the bomb meant the city had to be rebuilt (and remodelled) and to this day, more recipients of the government's special health care for bomb survivors live in Hiroshima than anywhere else. Inevitably this means A & I have had an argument about the rectitude of the bombing which I won't relate here because a) I'm not sure about some of the facts (the Japanese telling is OK, but selective), b) it needs some thinking out and c) I may be inflammatory and it's not worth it. Maybe for a later post.

The city itself is however great. The centre is compact, there are an extraordinary number of bars and restaurants, including many serving one of my new favourite foods, the artery clogging oikonomiyaki. It's well linked up (we went to Himeji on the way and Miyajima for an afternoon), and has trams everywhere. Fab. The remodelling of the city also means that it's simple to navigate and on one of the key islands (Hiroshima is on a river delta, who knew?) by the epicentre a great peace park has been created - the museums and monuments are there, but it's also a great public space. The museums and monuments themselves are excellent and interesting (if a bit determinedly naive). The key museum is well done, and restrained. However, The jewel in Hiroshima's crown though is the island of Miyajima, while has a lovely set of temples, the highlight of which is the Daisho-in, and a little hilltop from which the inland sea can be seen. Just wonderful.

Possibly the prettiest city in the world

I'm very late in publishing this for no good reason (Japan does not have a firewall), but as the readership of these is limited, I don't think it matters too much. Here thoughts on Kyoto (+Nara and Osaka) from about a week ago, but not uploaded till now. Others to follow.

A is somewhat irritated that all these have strange titles, rather than just say Kyoto, as in this case. But as that would be boring so I am sticking to this as a descriptor for Kyoto, as it is possibly the prettiest city in the world. It contains, according to the guidebook, the most beautiful street in all Asia. This seems to be highly likely, based on my experience of other streets in Asia.

Low competition on streets aside, it is an extraordinary city. We were there a week and although we spent a day out of the city in Nara, which is very much in the same mould, we managed to do no more than half of the temples possible, though we obviously prioritised what we were told were the best. Almost all were beautiful, and many were just stunning. A & I disagree slightly on the best ones, but both concur on the overall point. My personal favourites were Kiyomizu-dera, which looked stunning in the weather (and we were lucky with the weather), the  Imperial palace, the Zen gardens at the Daitoku-ji, (especially Zuiho-in) and the Byodo-in (though frustratingly, we didn't get to go inside as the place shut at 4.10). However, the major temples and sights only tell part of the story. Their sheer density obviously contributes to the impression of Kyoto as a lovely city, and the time of the season helps - there is a lot of blossom about - but it's also some of the other bits. It has its fair share of slightly scruffy roads, but it's not very long before a well maintained temple or riverside  hits you, and in all the cases I've seen, they've been tidy and clean. Britain fails this fairly elementary requirement, and Southern Europe is disastrous (we're not even mentioning the Middle East in this context). Japan is uniquely good at it and Kyoto reaps the benefit.

Kyoto is obviously our first time in Japan and we're both struck by how nice they are; I'm also struck by how short they are and how this makes me bump my head a lot, though their niceness more than makes up for it. When we arrived, the LP has fairly poor directions to our Ryokan yet within 5 minutes of being lost in the general area, no less than two people had volunteered to help up and one cheerfully walked us to the right road. There have been countless other examples, but none more welcome than that at 7:30 pm having got up at 4:30 to get our flights out of Beijing. It's not even been as expensive as we had feared, and a focus on Sushi and karaoke (amazingly cheap for booze) has really kept the price down.

Dictator chic

It apparently isn't acceptable to publicly pronounce on the aesthetics of dictators (as Bryan Ferry undeservedly knows to his cost). However, as we practice entirely inconsistent social rules on this, I can comment positively on the iconography of Chinese communists, who in Mao count the bigger mass murderer in history, without criticism and Beijing is the place to do it. It's not all good - the illuminated face of the embalmed corpse of Mao reminded me of nothing more than a second rate saint's body in one of those cheap catholic churches - but the spectacular bits were spectacular.

That said, the best bits by miles are imperial. A & I disagree on the detail (her favourite day remains the great wall; mine the forbidden city), but both were spectacular, and a terrifying testament to the sheer scale of China and its Emperors. It's also the best stuff we have seen in China. I'm struck, as with the terracotta warriors, that the famous big bits haven't been a  disappointment at all. The central courtyards and pavilions of the imperial forbidden city were beautiful and, as expressions of imperial power, comparable with even the most bombastic expressions of European imperialism, and certainly more powerful than the south side of the square, where communist monumentalism is shown to full effect. The Great Wall has much the same effect, though our stretch also had a slide.

Beijing also seemed (to us) a great city to visit. We were helped by having a great little hostel, where we often retreated after dinner (the Chinese do eat early) and drink cheaply with wifi. But we also had some great times out and the food was fantastic & pretty cheap. Partly this is us cracking China a bit more, but also Beijing being accessible and relatively welcoming: nonetheless, our 56p dumpling lunch on Wednesday remains a highlight.

Overall, then China has been fab. I was a little taken aback by it at first - simultaneously disorientated by the total unfamiliarity of the language &c but also surprised by the modernity, especially when implicitly comparing it to the middle east. But after that initial shock, it's been pretty easy to manage (even train tickets weren't too difficult, though highly stressful). I wish I had learnt more about Buddhist liturgy (and the Bodhisattvas) in advance, and maybe a little about imperial history (still largely limited to Mongols, Ming, Manchu). In fact generally, I wish I'd come earlier, and I think we'll be back.

Japan now. Radiation be damned.

Journey to the West

written 30th March 2011

Now, I know after reading the whole thing, that the Journey to the West actually started in Xi'an (Chang'an) rather than finished there, but it's as far west as we're getting on this trip. Also, while I wouldn't claim that I have endured the trials of the Tang priest, it's an infuriating city. In our case, made worse by a lack of metro (we like metros, much better than buses) and dodgy guidebook information. Our Lonely Planet seemed not to have a single accurate restaurant listing, though some were nearby.

That said, I'm very glad we came, for obvious and non-obvious reasons. Obviously, this is home of the terracotta warriors, which were fantastic. While I saw and loved them in London at the BM a few years ago, nothing really prepares you for the rank upon rank of them presented in the main excavations. Never mind the afterlife, they're quite intimidating in this one. They are also exquisite, with the famous individuality really shining through particularly when you see them en masse. They are endlessly fascinating, even in their fairly rudimentary display (in a big hanger) It's also symptomatic of Xi'an: it's actually very easy (and cheap) to get there from the city, but then they drop you in a park with no signage to the nearby site.

Non-obviously, Xi'an also has a decent set of other major sights that I never heard of, and a fun little Muslim community. We seem to have done the city in the wrong order, and instead of doing the central sites first first went out the far sites. The far ones (a huge 'Goose' pagoda and the museum) are best, but I'd be much more relaxed if I'd wandered round the mosque and towers in the centre on day one. Even more pointless, but exciting, I dragged A to a stele museum on the last day - obviously we couldn't read anything,  but they have a Nestorian stele with traces of Syriac at the bottom. Honestly, even I was a little bored, but it's got to be seen. We met some people in Beijing who were going to Xi'an later, and they were planning to skip the city sights and go to the mountains. I didn't try to persuade them otherwise, but I hope they saw some of them,

The biggest city you've never heard of

Written 24th March 2011

I'm writing this as we approach Xi'an, after a fairly dodgy night overnighting from Hangzhou (via Shanghai). No plush private sleeper for us this time, but rather a six berth cabin, with no door, so not an ideal amount of sleep. But just about OK. The weather seems much improved from Monday and early Tuesday, where we arrived in the very pretty lake town of Hangzhou, only to find it deluged under a downpour. Our mood was not improved by the fact that I had managed to a) note down the address of our hotel in roman characters only, and b) note the wrong address down. Thank god for mobile Internet - we got there eventually, and given the downpour, holed up in our hostel and ate there, before going to bed very early.

Fortified with sleep, we tackled Hangzhou itself the next day and Wed am. , although we started off in a downpour, it steadily improved, was dry by lunch on Tuesday, and sunny on Wednesday. In some ways it was fortunate to see it in al weathers, as it is an extraordinarily pretty town. Now I say a pretty town, actually it's a massive city, with a population of over six million, though most of them live in horrible bits away from the lake and we didn't seem them. The lake itself is stunning:  a beautiful landscaped sequence of gardens, pools, pavilions and islands, which together are extraordinary to look at. Anna particularly enjoyed the endless numbers of little bridges, which pop up with understandable frequency given the causeways and pools the paths have to cover. We also discovered that Anna's greater tolerance for untidiness extends into nature  - I tended to prefer the ordered and symmetrical Bai causeway, to A's preference for the more uneven (though still entirely man-made) Su causeway. At one point I was accused of only liking nature when it had been tamed - an accusation without evil if you ask me.

Two other curious things about Hangzhou. Firstly, it was the most Chinese place we've been to. It's very touristy, but we saw only a handful of other westerners, and a lot of Chinese tourists (more in the sun obviously). Although we broke out of our hostel for dinner on the second night, it was noteworthy that it  hostel also had mostly Chinese guests. Secondly, the town itself, though old, is actually all of recent reconstruction, and this goes for the sights as well. It's prominence dates to the Southern Song (C12-C13), with successive reconstruction, especially in 1699 (we saw the same dates on a lot of monuments). However every monument seems to have been rebuilt or moved in the C20, including the most prominent of the main towers. I wasn't sure how I would feel about that - I am after all a hankerer after ancient authenticity - but having seen it, I'm a fan of modern restoration along classical lines; it works perfectly in Hangzhou. It's the best bit of China we have seen so far.

Pudong and Puxi

Written 21st March 2011


We're very much still easing ourselves into China. Shanghai is more Chinese than Hong Kong, but still very English, by which I mean American. There are more Starbucks here than I have ever seen, and inexplicably, an extraordinary number of KFC outlets. We've not been in either so cannot really comment on their quality (not that I enter either in the UK either). We've also overshot our required hotel standard and are staying in one of the old imperial hotels (the Astor) at the top of the Bund. It's pretty reasonable for price, but have started to wonder if we could have done this a little cheaper. That said, it's fun to be met by black tie staff.

Shanghai itself is great though. It's relatively easy to navigate - a lot of the signs are in English; we can work the metro - and there are some great sights. Though unevenly distributed, it's clearly the product of a lot of money: obviously the silly towers, but also a wide variety of infrastructure investments (I'm writing this on the new link to Hangzhou, covering the 200km in 45 mins) and a lot of shopping developments. I'm especially  pleased that one of swishest, most European of those new developments now essentially incorporates the site of the founding of the Chinese Communist party. We went to both yesterday - they're very keen on waxworks (in the communist bit, it's not a function of the shopping).

So, top marks for Shanghai, though I wouldn't want to live here - I don't think it knows what it wants to be yet. Part of the city (mostly the modern Pudong development) is high finance, expensive and western, the rest (Puxi) is emphatically of the party - Chinese flags over the Bund buildings etc - and I don't think I'd want either for a long time, though fun to see in action.

And, the news from Japan still uncertain, though something seems to be happening in terms of moving the solution on. Go Tokyo Power and Electric! (not a sentence I thought I would ever write)

Epitaph for Empire

written 16th March

As I write this we're on the train between Hong Kong and Shanghai [as I publish, it's the 3rd of April, given China's absurd firewall], a monster train journey of 18 hours, made more bearable by our private compartment, but less bearable by the fact they will not take Hong Kong dollars, which are the only currency we have on us. We are surviving on biscuits.

The four days we've had in Hong Kong have been more stressful and much more alcoholic than we'd intended. Japan's disaster is on our minds at the moment, partly because we've only really managed to get NHK World (Japan's English Language news channel) in the hotel, but mostly because it makes the rest of the holiday a nightmare to plan. While nothing compared to death toll and risk of a nuclear winter that the Japanese are facing, it's own little cross to bear. A tells me this is callous, but it's the bit I am worried about.
Hong Kong made it all seem quite far away, both literally and metaphorically. An 18 hour train journey makes you feel the distance we're covering here, but there's also a curious air of unreality about the holiday so far - Hong Kong and Macau feel very much like what they are - little enclaves of Europe, complete with each country's foibles. We had custard tarts on Macau and I'm delighted to note there is an M&S in Hong Kong. Last night, aside from the warmth and the slightly more civilised atmosphere, we spent the late evening in what could have been an English town centre, albeit one from the late 1990s. Two nights ago, we watched the faintly depressing rugby in the company of a raggle taggle set of other Anglos. Part of the this has been made possible by the excellent hospitality from my mother's godson, who despite not having seen me since he rescued me from certain death in the snow 25 years ago, has been welcoming above and beyond the call of duty, but I also suspect Hong Kong is just a bit like that. It's been great fun, though too many parts of it have been spent hungover.

Things we have learnt:

• All the main tourist things are in fact great - the Peak, Macau, the Star Ferry, the big Buddha (of which more later) - though there seems to be little else to see, apart from some markets
• Beware the weather. Though warm, it is always hazy so take advantage of whatever clarity you can. Definitely don't go up onto a mountain when the cloud cover is low. It will waste an afternoon, and make you cold and wet.
• Take your hotel's card with you out drinking: trying to explain where you want to go to a non-English speaking taxi driver, while tipsy, at 1:30, is not straightforward.
• There is nothing past the gate at the international departure terminal at the station. Change your money and buy your food beforehand

Not wearing flowers in your hair

They've stopped the flower-wearing in San Francisco, or at least I didn't see any. Which is probably just as well.   Instead we did see what I would call the first real city of the holiday, and most welcome it was too. I still feel that like LA, it must be more fun to live in than to visit, but we had a great day pounding the pavements of San Francisco. And, while we missed out on a few things, I would liked to have got further round the Asian Art Museum than the cafe, though that was excellent, I think we did well. We were helped by having kind hosts to stay with - many thanks to A & K - and therefore did well on food and drinks also. As a city, it's clearly hard to go wrong with such spectacular natural geography as the bay area, and taking the trip to Alcatraz really highlights the glorious setting (and it's a great tour). It also means they appear to have built part of it before the roads came, and that makes a real difference.

However, the highlight for us came yesterday. I'm currently on our last US morning. Up first and sitting within sight of a winery and touching distance of vines, having spent yesterday cycling - increasingly shakily - round the local tasting rooms. We're by Healdsburg, staying in one of the wineries' own cottages, and it's been pretty close to perfect. The weather has been sunny, but not too hot (it's actually hotter in London today), the wine great, and with generous tasting options and we had a very jolly day indeed.

I'm not too surprised (though it was better than even I expected); I like the way Americans do their wine. Everywhere we have been here since LA, serving staff have been knowledgeable and crucially enthusiastic about the wine they carry. And in the vineyards, both here and New York State where I went some years ago, it's been relaxed, informal and very enjoyable to meander through the country sampling their wines. Of course, it also turns out very expensive - not of necessity, in fact most tastings are free - but we've just ended up buying quite a lot of very good wine, and we'll probably get some more today (A should have a present from this trip after all).

So, an unqualified success, and a great end to this Californian run. I'm left with the unexpected feeling that I'd really quite like to do much of this again. Next time I'll do the Vancouver - SF run south, though that's 1,500 miles, nearly 2,000 if I went to the Grand Coulee Dam (which I'd have to). That may take another fortnight, and I'd have to get A to learn to drive. I'd hate to come to these vineyards again without her. Though whether she would have approved of the right wingery on show out here is another matter. I wore my new Reagan centre T-shirt, which drew at least one approving comment and the winery we're staying by has a picture of the Governator on their bar. It's a long way from flower power, but certainly a more productive outcome.

On the road again

We’ve hit San Francisco now, having spent much of the last three days on the road. Since leaving LA, M & I have gone up Highway 1 up to Monterey, crossed the state to Yosemite and rolled into SF. We dropped the car off today with 1280 miles on the clock for six days, and I didn’t even crash once.

The places we managed to get to on the road have been the highlight of the trip so far: Highway 1 itself, especially around Big Sur, was beautiful; Hearst castle barking, yet brilliant; and getting to Yosemite, though a brutal drive on the way, was worth every minute (hour). We've also eaten well on the way. The food and wine in Cambria and Groveland (outside Yosemite) was exceptional, especially Cambria. 

For me, it's the first time I've really done a driving holiday; rare are the occasions that we venture out of the confines of cities and public transport normally (this is why I haven't read much this time, in contrast to my normal demolition of a book every few days, this time, I'm only on book two). But it makes sense in America, and it has helped me makes sense of the country as well. Firstly, it's so big. I feel like we drove for ages, but we never really got very far from a small number of centres. Secondly, transport is a major deal. We went to the Wells Fargo museum in LA, where the centrality of the railroad in the development of their fortune and American prosperity is rammed home to you. These have both contributed to a decentralised and local approach that is is marked contrast to the European. There are lots of reasons for this, but I think I needed to go see the other bits of America to get a sense of this, and it helped by listening to all their election broadcasts on the radio.

They were odd, but I loved the country and want to spend more time around it; for the first time, I can look back and say I wish we'd spent more time driving, more time in the country, and cut the cities a bit.

LA

We've not had the best runs into LA. Firstly, I was ill; secondly, on arrival, M became ill; thirdly we appeared to be staying in what I hope isn't representative of motels in the country, but I suspect is.

We fixed most of these things pretty quickly. After a good sleep (and some excellent Japanese art), I was fine. M recovered though towards the end of the stay, both helped by a switch after one night (and a dreadful morning with no hot water) to a new hotel. We did some good things too. The LACMA was excellent, and the source of the Japanese art in question above; downtown interesting; Dodger Stadium and the baseball exciting and the Getty a fantastic site as well as a decent repository of art. The last hampered by the fact that the its exhibitions put the whole thing into unfortunate perspective. The best thing there at the moment is Donatello’s Bearded Prophet on loan.

I still don't really get it as a city though. It’s sprawl is notorious but really is debilitating to any conception of the city as a whole, and having been to a number of its various neighbourhoods, I cannot think of any of them that I would wish to live in, in fact few I would want to visit again. It’s as if the city has just sprung out of the boulevards, rather the other way round, and it still takes ages to get anywhere.

In fact the most exciting thing of our time in LA was on the exit when we called in on the Reagan Presidential Centre, which is amazing. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to stay and do the tour but we did look at the grounds and the giftshop. I’ve got a great T shirt now.

Beyond the back of beyond

No-one goes to Nipton. That's not quite true, but even the car hire people hadn't heard of it. You should though (go, that is).

We went there straight out of Vegas (based on the visitors' book, so had several others) and wanted to find a tranquil place to sleep and attack the Mojave the next morning (you should go there too). It was bliss, as far from Vegas as can be imagined, though physically near enough for our hotelier to go there frequently for shopping. It felt like a relic from the American past with a working railway line through it, freight only and no stopping, a small store that did everything and a community so straightforward that our hotel just left the hotel open and a envelope with the key in a postbox outside. Then we found them in the bar next door (they run that too). The countryside is also beautiful, as you'd expect near the desert parks.

There's very little to do, but it does it well. Skip Vegas and go. From the look of the visitors' book, Matt tells me that's most people wished they'd done.

Viva Las Vegas?

So, Vegas. I thought I would hate it; and I wasn't keen, though not for the reasons I had imagined. 

Everybody who'd been (and those who hadn't) told me it was clearly not my thing: modern, brash, not enough classical ruins and so forth. But actually those things were fine. Clearly there aren't enough classical ruins, but its tackiness is somehow glorious. I spent a day going up the Strip looking at the horrifying badness of the various hotels. While many were absurd, Caesar's palace remains my favourite on account of both the pool and the - wait for it - animatronic statues in the mall. Similarly, gambling isn't unfun, especially if you win, which we seemed to. I pocketed $230 in the two days. And none of it was a surprise: you know what you are getting with Vegas - they'll be gambling, and drinking, and overblown nonsense, I'm happy to roll with it.
But, although there is a lot of the flash and the plastic and the rest, it's still all a little bit desperate and worse a bit, well, dirty. I don't mean literally, though that's also true, especially in Paris, despite it's half scale Eiffel Tower, where I was poisoned by a poor lunch, incapacitating me for days. Take the sleaze for example. I know that there will be dancing girls in shows; I know there will be prostitution and strip clubs somewhere, but I don't want my taxi driver home to suggest he take me to one, and get me free drinks. It's ugly. Likewise, gambling, I know people will come and some will win and more will lose, but nothing had prepared me for the cud chewing ranks of the middle aged cranking out slots. Where's the fun in that. They certainly didn't seem to having any. Not that the young were any better. Nowhere else have a seen a hotel which had an off-licence on the premises and watch various groups of people retreat to their rooms with a six pack of beer. If you don't want to drink here, why have you come?

I had fun (until the food poisoning kicked in), but as a backdrop, it left a lot to be desired.

Two wheels good

I've bought a bike - it's very exciting: I reckon, once I stop getting lost, it will cut my time to work by ten minutes and do some valuable exercise. I'm very pleased.

Even more exciting is this little toy, which plots the places where accidents happen - most of the way along my route I discover, though there are worse routes. I am now definitely avoiding the Kings Road. I love this kind of thing and I love the people who took the data (which the government published last week). I need to work out how to plot geodata, save for the risk I may spend much of my time doing it.

Three further observations on cycling:

• There's a lot of kit to buy. I've been delayed in really getting going for the lack of reflective clothing, but I now have a shiny jacket that will stop me getting killed on the way home
• Tube pricing is still going to be a problem: if only cycle in on 3 days a week (i.e. because I am going out in the evening), it will be economical to retain my annual travelcard. Surely this is bad pricing in a transport system that encourages bike use.
• And why is there no good cycle map online. TfL Directs you to order them so they can send you a pamphlet.

Mark 4.25

For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he hath.

I went to Wales last week (photos here). It was great apart from a walk from hell in a bog (near the pretty waterfalls), but the most astonishing thing didn't happen there, but in a church.

I went with some religious friends, including a priest, and we naturally went to church on the Sunday (save Anna) - in doing so, we expanded the congregation by 50%. After the service we chatted to the (retired, stand in) priest for a while, who asked us where we were staying and what we were doing etc. On hearing that we were off to Hay-on-Wye, she then proceeded to tell us she had a large library she was trying to get rid of, and were any of us interested in theology? After a brief hesitation (very brief it should be said), I shamelessly offered to take some of these off her hands, introducing myself as a student of theology and Tony as a vicar. Tony did complain that I managed to gloss over his far superior greater academic theological qualifcations, but this is not relevant.

We went the next day, and plagued with guilt for being given them free (payment was refused), took about 25 volumes each off her. I list mine below, but this is really a public post to thank Marion for her astonishing generosity and to note that the Lord does provide, though sometimes one might have to ask.

Books acquired from God (25):
S.C. Barton, Holiness
John Chyrsostom, Homilies
D. Dales, Light to the Isles
J.C. Fenton, Preaching the Cross
J.C.L. Gibson, Language and imagery in the Old Testament
P. Hughes, The reformation in England
D. Jenkins, Free to believe
J. Jobling and I. Markham, Theological Liberalism
L.T. Johnson, The writings of the New Testament
E.T. Long, Existence, Being and God
T. MacCauley, A history of England (4 volumes)
T. Meakin, A Basic church dictionary
D. Morgan, Lambeth Speaks
H.A. Netland, Dissonant Voices
R.M. Pirsig, Lila
J. Reumann, Stewardship and the economy of God
E.P. Saunders and M. Davies, Studying the Synoptic gospels
E. Schillebeeckz, The understanding of faith
M.A. Smith, The Church of the Siege
P. Tilich, Theology of Culture
C.K. Ward, Priests and People
J. Ziesler, Pauline Christianity

Bastille day

I've been in France for the last days, staying with my parents in their lovely house in Pornic. I've put the photos up here.

Interestingly, we were in town for the 14th July celebrations (hence the fireworks). Now, although I obviously don't approve of the 14th July - I am no republican - I've been to a few now and it's hard to dislike such an exuberant celebration of national identity that manages to avoid lapsing into tweeness and parochialism that, for example, American celebrations 10 days earlier often fail to do. Not that France is perfect, and peacniks may dislike the rather glorious parade in Paris: this year it had the UN.

What did strike me that night is that we don't have anything similar to either. It's long been observed - and is now controversial - that there is a patriotic deficit in England, despite this admirable attempt. However, this isn't the point. What we lack is a national day. We have time off for a variety of reasons, but our major commemorative days aren't holidays (11 Nov) and our holidays are increasingly meaningless to most people (Whit anyone?). Not of course, that this stops people taking them off - how I wish that non-Christians would put their money where the mouth is and work through Easter.

And I think we'd embarrassed if we did. All that parading and bombast isn't very British. It's great fun to watch, but we wouldn't want to do it. And while this in some ways is sad, the alternative is worse - we might take it seriously, and that would be much much worse.

On being scammed

I'm out of India now, and in Sri Lanka. I've done ruined cities and I'm preparing to watch a day or so of cricket (though I did see some monks playing earlier today) before I head home. I'm also travelling independently now, having put my grandmother on a plane 5 days ago, and this means I get to be scammed. Yet, as I think the scamming that I have fallen victim to, and could do, it is hard to think of a greater rip off than the ones you fall prey to before you even leave home. As an example, I hired a driver for $135 for two solid days of driving (Anuradhapura - Mihintale - Pollonaruwa - Sigiriya - Dambulla - Matale - Kandy, map here) and a night of accomdation. The accomodation was a bit rubbish (the website is better than the rooms), though perfectly servicable once I had been told how to make the hot water work, but I spent the night sulking about it. I'd spent the previous night at a lovely place in Anuradhapura and I had been promised by said driver that this would be similar - it wasn't (& I'm not the only one whose had this complaint).

However, with the perspctive of hindsight, it's hard to see why I cared so much. Actually the real scam wasn't the driver who chose a cheap hotel, but the first hotel who charged $94 for a room in an almost empty rest house. Similarly, I am now in possesion of some moonstone necklaces for my 8 and 11 year old cousins (I'm assuming they're not going to read this before Christmas), which I doubtless overpaid for, though given I got them for 30% of the asking price, I dread the original mark up. However, the bigger scam is surely the vast price of my Indian leg (most of which I didn't pay for), based on pure fear. And this applies across the board. Anna & I have spent substantial sums on pleasant accomodation and food withour batting an eyelid (Morocco most recently: here - beautiful, yet worth it in absolute terms? I doubt it), yet we really hate being hassled into donations and overcharged for cheap things. We refused to be guided in Morocco and made sure we didn't tip even children too much. My parents don't care and cheerfully pay what they are asked - doubtless making some people very happy at relatively little cost to themselves. Whereas we agonise over scams by natives, yet accept it if they speak excellent english - which seems wrong somehow.

So, I resolve not to care too much, to consider it alms giving, and am off to buy some wooden elephants before being scammed out of water for over a pound (over a pound? in a third world country!) by my hotel (who I might add charged me 6 times the price of this connection to check my email last night). Bastards, with nice rooms and a pool.

Mohammedanism

Oh dear. I appear not to have really gotten into this. So, I thoughtI wouldkick start it by rambling about my holiday. Call it self-indulgence if you will, you might be right.

Actually, I don't really intend to ramble on about my holiday in India, excellent though it was, but to despair over the lack of knowledge of people about it. I went with a relatively expensive company on a tour of Northern India - i.e., mostly Mughal monuments. I was the youngest person on the trip - most being middle aged and relatively well off. And this seemed to be a pattern of the various tourists I saw. It's in term time so presumably the student crowd isn't around. My group was pretty good (though my grandmother did once confuse the Hindu temple in Neasden with a mosque - doubtless to the delight of both parties), but the bulk of the other visitors to these places appeared to have to have an understanding of religious geography that stopped in 1600 (or even 600), and ill-equipped to look at muslim monuments

Now, our record of teaching about Islam is pretty poor. A few years ago I picked up a second hand atlas that was used in Westminster school in the 80s, which cheerfully referred to the Islamic regions of the world as Mohammedan. However, Islam has been in the news recently, especially in that part of the world.

In fact, the various exclamations I hear on the subject - prize goes to "I didn't know that Islam had made it so far east - makes me wonder if they have heard of partition (and what it was about), if Malaysia and Indonesia simply don't figure in people's minds, whether they think Bangladesh (or East Pakistan as it was known in their lifetime!) is west of Iran, and crucially - given Delhi is pretty near that Pakistani border - what kind of miltants Pakistan have? It was bad enough earlier this year in Granada when I heard the Americans recognise that "this kind of thing [the Alhambra] makes me appreciate the muslims a bit more", but at least that relied on a knowledge of vanished civilisation; this is a tad more recent.

I despair. For the record, I didn't know there were quite as many Muslims in India as there in fact are, nor that it is the third largest muslim population in the world (list here, with some scrolling needed), so nobody's perfect. Though it would appear some are less so than others.