Day Five: Saturday in London

Happy 150th Birthday to Big Ben! The bell rang for the first time on July 11, 1859.

The guidebooks said Portobello Road Market—three miles of vendors’ stalls selling antiques, new and used clothes, fruits, vegetables, baked goods, books, and bric-a-brac—opened at 5:30 AM every Saturday. They warned of crowds and not to expect any great buys, but said that this large weekly open-air market was entertaining.

But we slept late anyway and got there at 9:00 AM or so. Aha! It had been raining earlier, the vendors had just set up, and the crowds were thin. If this market had been in Madison, I would have bought a LOT of stuff, but I did not want to have to schlep too much across the Atlantic. We mostly browsed.
I loved these antique toy soldiers. We bought Ted his souvenir, a leather messenger bag. And despite what the guidebooks said about not expecting bargains, I got two lovely scarves for 7 pounds, about $11.50. I wish we had gotten a photo of the gorgeous vegetables, but the hydrangeas were almost as pretty.
The food looked fabulous. If I lived in London, I’d eat lunch every Saturday at Portobello Road.
For our next stop, I dragged Keith and Ellie to the largest Hindu temple outside India, the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir. I appreciated their forbearance, neither of them being as spiritually curious or adventurous as I am. These photos are all from postcards; the morning was too gray to get a good photo of the outside, and they made us check our cameras as we went in.

In one room, dioramas illustrated stories. This one is 'duty,' a story about a young man who found a way to enable his blind and crippled parents to visit the shrines.
The workmanship--SO much carving--was impressive. They made Keith cover up his legs (he was wearing shorts) with a sort of sarong, and Ellie felt very uncomfortable sitting through a short religious ceremony she did not know. I loved the visual spectacle of the Hindu worship. It's got to be the most colorful and sparkly of the world's religions.
Of all the religious sites we visited during this trip, this was the only one where our guide tried to proselytize us--but in a charming way. "Oh, you are from near Chicago? Let me show you this video." And he made us watch a very well-made five-minute video on the ecological damage caused by eating meat.

Our next stop was St. Paul's Cathedral, England's national church. People have worshiped on this location since 604 AD. The church is such a national symbol that during the blitz of 1940, Churchill ordered firefighters to save it at all costs, which they did. The cathedral took a few hits, including one that destroyed the altar. The next two pictures (both from postcards) show the rebuilt altar.
Christopher Wren designed the current building after the Great Fire of 1666 to have clean, simple lines. The interior was simple cream-colored stone, and the windows were of clear glass. The spare decor did not survive the Victorian era, when the ceiling was encrusted with fabulous mosaics, heavy with gleaming gold.Apart from the ceiling, the entire building is chock-a-block full of memorials to many military figures from throughout British history. Admiral Horatio Nelson (below) and the Duke of Wellington are both given large statues in the nave and imposing tombs in the lower level.
One military memorial that I found moving was a book of the names of all the American soldiers and sailors who gave their lives during World War II. This memorial is in a place of honor right behind the altar in the first picture, above.
To save time, we did not take the guided tour in St. Paul's, but instead walked ourselves through the building following the narration in Rick Steves' guidebook. (God bless Rick Steves--everything in his little book was dead-on accurate and just exactly what we wanted to know when we wanted to know it!) We enjoyed Steves' commentary on this massive painting:

In 1854, William Holman Hunt debuted The Light of the World. Critics savaged it, calling it 'syrupy' and 'too Catholic,' but the masses lapped it up. It became the most famous painting in Victorian England, a pop icon that inspired sermons, poems, hymns and countless knock-off copies in churches and homes. The Guardian newspaper recently published a list of "Britain's Ten Worst Paintings." They honored The Light of the World with seventh place, comparing it to a plastic crucifix.

Next to Westminster Abbey. If you asked me to choose an inscription for the outside of a religious building, it might be something very close to this:
No picture-taking was allowed here; all these inside photos are from our postcards. Here's the altar and an amazing medieval mosaic floor.
No photo can do this next ceiling justice: it's the ceiling of the 'Lady Chapel,' commissioned by Henry VII. It's called a 'fan ceiling,' like the one in Canterbury we saw yesterday, but much bigger. That heavy stone can be worked like this--and then put on the ceiling!--to give the impression of fine, light lace, just seems nothing short of magical.
Henry VII built the Lady Chapel to house the tombs of his family. He's here with his wife, as is his grandaughter, Elizabeth I.
As an American, I whispered "Thank you!" as I stood at this tomb. We are who we are because Elizabeth I was who she was. Without this woman's risky and visionary choices, you would be reading this blog en français o en español.
The coronation chair is quite a sight. It is the real thing--used for every monarch since 1308--but it must not always have been kept this high and out of reach: it's covered with carved graffiti!

As we left Westminster Abbey, we noticed the Methodist Central Hall in that sea of Anglicanism.It turns out we got there just after closing, otherwise we would have accepted the invitation on the banner outside and gone in for a cup of coffee.

Britain's interweaving of church and state was very apparent at all three of the Christian cathedrals we visited. What we saw today, I think, supports the argument that when Church and State intertwine, the State will likely have a greater influence on the Church than vice-versa.

A naïve visitor to St. Paul's could easily conclude that it is a war memorial rather than a house of worship. Apart from a few crosses and the big painting of Jesus at the door, the overwhelming majority of the statues and images are military-oriented. On the hour, a clergyman asks all the milling tourists for a moment of silence and offers a short prayer. While we were there, his prayer was for protection of the military and law enforcement.

Similarly, Westminster Abbey can easily be experienced as a shrine to the monarchy and to secular cultural leaders. Aside from a few crosses, I cannot recall seeing even one religious statue or image at Westminster Abbey. Beautiful, yes. Religious? Not really.

Canterbury Cathedral has the dubious honor of being the site of the most dramatic example: the politically motivated murder of the Archbishop Thomas Becket.

In contrast, the Hindu temple--free from any entanglement with the State--was purely spiritual, top to bottom, side to side, inside and out.

Ah, but the secular stuff can be amusing and uplifting in its own way. On the sidewalk as we left St. Paul's, we were engulfed by dozens of demonstrators carrying big furry balls. They assembled on the stairs and chanted as the tourists clapped and snapped photos.
We'd had the honor of meeting up with the Testicle Tour--"Talking balls around England," raising money and awareness about testicular cancer. Check your nads, lads!

On to Day Six....