Maritime Greenwich, or How To Declare Yourself the Center of the Universe

(This is the last of my belated posts about our February travels...)

You know me, I like my World Heritage sites. Westminster is on the List, as is the Tower of London. But those are so obvious. My London World Heritage adventure of choice? Maritime Greenwich.

Maritime Greenwich is easily accessible by public transit, about 30 minutes south of central London. But when we emerged from the Cutty Sark station into grey misty wetness, we realized we hadn't a clue as to what we had actually come to see.

Greenwich on the Thames: I know there was a palace here, related somehow to Elizabeth I; and there's Greenwich Mean Time, which might or might not be the same thing as the Prime Meridian; and there's an "old royal naval college", but I don't know why it was important, other than that it sounds slightly familiar. Like my vague sense of literary deja-vu in the rest of London, I had the disconcerting feeling that I knew all about Greenwich without knowing anything: my history and science, all muddled up.

The weather didn't help: a fine drizzle that blurred the edges of the landscape and made it hard to discern buildings that were closer than they seemed. We followed signs to the campus of the Old Royal Naval College and its "interpretive center" (built to justify Maritime Greenwich's inscription on the World Heritage List), which helped unpack the layers of history. The Greenwich I had read about as a child - the palace of the Tudors, where Henry VIII lived and Elizabeth I was born - had fallen into disrepair during the Civil War and was torn down after the Restoration; "modern" Greenwich is a baroque complex, designed in parts by Inigo Jones and Christopher Wren during the 1600s.

The palatial buildings along the river are distinct from the Royal Observatory up on the overlooking hill, which was what we had really come to see. So we fumbled our way through the wet parkland to the seventeenth-century red brick observatory, rounded and ornate. With the low-hanging clouds of misting rain, we could barely make out from the scenic overlook the nearby sites in Greenwich (like the Millennium Dome), much less those of London in the distance.

Disclaimer: Not my feet.

It turns out that the observatory is a popular tourist destination, and the site was crowded despite the weather. I am still uncertain what it meant to stand astride the Prime Meridian that passes through the observatory's courtyard (to straddle the eastern and western hemispheres at the same time?), but we did piece together from the exhibits the connection between astronomy, longitude, and the keeping of time:

Once upon a time, before the advent of GPS, ship captains could not measure where they were, horizontally-speaking, on the globe. Latitude - the distance from the equator - was a simple matter of geometry (the angle of the sun from the horizon at noon). But longitude required a reference point back home - either time or, less reliably, the relative position of stars.

So the royal astronomers stayed up every night at the Greenwich observatory diligently mapping the stars as seen from London. But time was a more difficult matter: Sony didn't make digital watches back in the 1700s - and a clock that measures time using a pendulum doesn't exactly work on a ship at sea. Even after Parliament announced a ridiculously large prize for developing an effective time keeper for sea-faring ships, it still took 80 years - 80 years - to develop the spring-loaded clock. This clock would be set to the time back home - a standardized time - and thereby allow sailors to measure their horizontal distance from home (their longitude) by comparing the standardized time with the local time (as measured by the sun).

It being the height of the British Empire, the Brits set the standardized time (Greenwich Mean Time, or GMT) and longitude 0 (the Prime Meridian) to Greenwich. If you can, do.

As for the naval college (originally a naval hospital), I still don't understand its historical importance, but I was soothed by its serene, symmetric geometry and its long lines of perspective from the river up to the surrounding green English hillsides. These are the sort of massive uniform buildings of greyed stone that look elegantly simple from afar but overwhelm and dwarf you when you stand alongside them. Some of the more ornate halls are open to the public, but its real benefit to the visitor is the beauty of its campus spread out alongside the river.

The Little Green Bike That Could

I did it, I did it, I did it! I rode my bike to work today!!

Lest you think this is no big deal, I wish to remind you of my lack of adult bike-riding skills. I might also point out that this undertaking involved a total of 10 miles of biking in work attire in winds topping 25 mph (and it was uphill both ways - er...)

So yay for having quests, and for persevering.

Big London Flavour, Little London Cost

Everybody warned me that London would be expensive. I beg to differ. Armed with an EasyJet ticket from the Hague and a friend kind enough to let us sleep on her floor, our biggest investment in London last month was our unlimited public transit pass (less than 7 GBP per day). Well, and food, but everybody has to eat.

So how did we achieve a full-flavoured London experience in two and a half days, without mortgaging our unborn child's college education? It turns out my favorite London experiences are free:

The British Museum: My life feels more complete now that I have seen the Rosetta Stone and the Parthenon Marbles (the politically correct term for the Elgin Marbles) - although I am of the school that believes the Marbles belong in Greece. Equally impressive: beautiful Japanese prints, both ancient and modern; a moving array of Egyptian statues; and the stunning atrium of the museum itself. I could have spent the entire weekend here. For the intellectually curious, I also recommend "A History of the World in 100 Objects", a radio program in partnership with the BBC. 

Monuments at night: Put off by Westminster Abbey's stiff admission charge of 16 GBP and restrictive tour times, we instead decided to take the Chevy Chase approach ("Look kids, Big Ben!"). And if there's one thing I learned from living in DC, it's that national monuments always look more monumental when lit up at night. So after dinner Saturday, we took the Tube to Westminster for a photo op with the brilliantly illuminated halls of Parliament and Westminster Abbey - and from Big Ben, it's just a short walk up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square, where the lions likewise look more regal when lit from below. (Bonus points if you know anything about the Battle of Trafalgar.)

Tate Modern: The current temporary exhibit in the Tate Modern's massive main hall entails one million hand-crafted porcelain replicas of sunflower seeds, spread out like a grey sandy beach. The scope is impressive, though it would have been even more impressive if people could romp through it as originally intended (it's been roped off due to health concerns). But as far as Jeff's concerned, no Tate Modern exhibit will ever compare to the infamous (for the number of times I've heard about them) multi-story slides that were installed in the main hall during his first visit.

I also have to mention:

• The British Library: Free exhibits of ancient illuminated manuscripts; the papers of famous British authors (like Jane Austen, Samuel Johnson, and Lewis Carroll); the original index cards used to compile the Oxford English Dictionary (which I mention as a shout out to Lyza); and of course the Magna Carta. Also home to a popular cafe full of strung-out students and frumpy scholars and a bookstore with the best postcards in London. 
• The observatory at Greenwich: It's a World Heritage site! And (for the time being, at least) there's no admission fee. 
• Double-decker city buses: Let's just say I discovered the inspiration for J.K. Rowling's Knight Bus. (Free with unlimited transit pass.)
• Harrod's: A minor anthropological adventure in the middle of prime window-shopping and people-watching territory. 
• Organ concerts at St. Paul's: St. Paul's significant admission fee is waived during church events. As I'm less interested in the details of which royal sat where than in the general feeling of a beautiful church, this suits me fine. In particular, I would have loved to attend one of the church's free Sunday afternoon organ concerts.
• St. James's Park: Although London has many parks to choose from, I like St. James's Park for being centrally located and nicely landscaped, with the added bonus of allowing you to say you've "seen" Buckingham Palace - and its famous guards.

And then there's the eating. At Jeff's prodding we tried one of the classic London pubs recommended by Rick Steves. (Interior decoration: Notable. Food: Decent. Beer: Flat.). But perhaps my most favorite London activity of all was our all-out East London Pakistani feast at Tayyabs.

In heaven at Tayyabs.

Seriously, this might rank among the 10 best meals of my life: spice-rubbed grilled lamb chops, platters of tender tandoori chicken and fish and the complex flavors of house-made seekh kebab, haleem (a rich, slow-cooked lentil and meat dish with an undercurrent of heat), and spicy okra with meat. Even the pastry desserts were perfectly flaky, nutty, and buttery. And with the final tally coming to only 18 GBP per person (cheap by London standards, at least), Tayyabs has a staggering price-to-quality-and-quantity ratio. 

World Heritage in Context

(This post was originally intended to be published the week of February 14.)

So why did Jeff and I go to Cologne? To see the Cathedral, of course.

The Dom of Koln is not a difficult site to see: Cologne's main train station is located immediately next to the Cathedral, so even a thirty-minute lay over provides enough time for a Chevy Chase-style "uh huh, uh huh" surveillance of the site. But with a full weekend in Cologne, Jeff and I studied the Cathedral from every angle: we toured it, climbed it, photographed it, prayed in it, inspected its art, and admired it at night. What interested me most, however, is the Cathedral's historical and political context.*

Here's how UNESCO pitches the Cathedral:

"Begun in 1248, the construction of this Gothic masterpiece took place in several stages and was not completed until 1880. Over seven centuries, successive builders were inspired by the same faith and a spirit of absolute fidelity to the original plans. Apart from its exceptional intrinsic value and the artistic masterpieces it contains, Cologne Cathedral testifies to the enduring strength of European Christianity."

Here is my version: Construction of the Cathedral began in 1248, but pilgrims' donations dried up by the 1500s and construction halted for three centuries. Then, in 1815, Cologne came under the rule of Prussia, and the unfinished Cathedral was seen as an opportunity to demonstrate the strength and majesty of a newly unifying German state. (Recall that Germany as we know it did not exist until 1871.) The new German State funded much of the construction, which was completed in 1880: thus the Cologne Cathedral of today is as much about German nationalism as it is about medieval religious fervor.

View looking west from the Dom towers, over the rest of the Dom,
the train bridge, and where the "eyesores" would have been.

In what seems like a rather arbitrary crisis to me, UNESCO put the Cathedral on its "World Heritage in Danger" list between 2004 and 2006 because of plans to construct high-rise buildings on the other side of the Rhine. The dispute was resolved after a new buffer zone including the west bank was designated (I love that the German word is "Pufferzone"), which restricts what can be constructed in a large swath of central Cologne.

There is an obvious tension between conservation and the natural evolution of a community - I personally disfavor the inclusion of cities or towns as such on the World Heritage list because the result is often a Disney-fication as buildings are "restored", long-time residents are displaced, and cultural evolution is halted. UNESCO has a 2005 memorandum that tries to address this issue, but it is nearly impossible to understand. I think the memo agrees with me that "historic" places must still be allowed to change over time. I like, for example, this passage:

"[U]rban planning, contemporary architecture and preservation of the historic urban landscape should avoid all forms of pseudo-historical design, as they constitute a denial of both the historical and the contemporary alike. [Eat it, Epcot Center.] One historical view should not supplant others, as history must remain readable [no idea what that means], while continuity of culture through quality interventions [meaning new construction projects must be pretty?] is the ultimate goal."

UNESCO didn't follow this advice in 2009, however, when it actually delisted another site in Germany, the Dresden Elbe Valley, because of a four-lane bridge that Dresden built across the Elbe river smack in the middle of the protected "cultural landscape". It is one of only two World Heritage sites ever delisted. I find this amusing because UNESCO largely based its original inscription of the site on the area's functional structures dating from the Industrial Revolution, including a steel bridge, a funicular, and a shipyard. And I quote, "The Dresden Elbe Valley contains exceptional testimonies of [...] industrial heritage representing European urban development into the modern industrial era." Today's "modern industrial era" required a new bridge - but under the UNESCO regime (as implemented), there was no room for new industrial history that might displace old industrial history. (I guess it was a really ugly bridge.)

On the train bridge leading straight to the Dom.

These are difficult issues, and I don't know enough about the Cologne controversy to have a strong opinion on it. But it does interest me that the site was inscribed despite the location of a massive (and busy) train station and train bridge right next door, the construction of which was controversial back in the 1850s but which today greatly benefit the nine million annual visitors to the Cathedral and are so often included in pictures of the Cathedral that they have become part of the iconic image. If we stop all construction in the broad vicinity of a historic site, do we miss out on changes that could improve our visual or practical enjoyment of what we thought was so worth preserving and sharing in the first place?

When do developments evolve from "recent" (meaning "bad") to "historic" (meaning "better")? Would it really have ruined the Cologne Cathedral if some buildings were constructed across the river from it? More broadly, how do we decide which moments of an ever-evolving cultural landscape to freeze in time?

* (When I was a history student in college, a teaching fellow pointed out that we are all prone to viewing the world through the lens of our favorite speciality: I see the world as a historian does - an engineer or an artist or a physicist would conceivably have taken away very different lessons from the Cologne Cathedral.)

Bonn, c'est bon.

I feel kind of sorry for Bonn. One day, you're the capital of a major global power, backed by a booming economy and the moral righteousness of upholding democracy in the face of totalitarian evil; the next you're just another sleepy little town hardly worth a pit stop on Rick Steves' itinerary.

But not us: we are egalitarian travelers, willing to spread our attention even to the humblest of former world capitals. Also, Bonn is just 20 minutes by train from Cologne, and we had some time to kill.

How to spend half a day in Bonn? Four suggestions:

Blue Beethoven at Bonn's TI

1. Beethoven: 

Bonn is the home of Ludwig van Beethoven - and it does not let you forget it. Every house claims that Beethoven slept there; every church claims that Beethoven played there. The (very helpful) Tourist Information office in Bonn gives out free Beethoven walking tour brochures so you, too, can retrace every step Beethoven ever took in this city. We dutifully walked past Beethoven's childhood home, but I generally have a short attention span for the "a famous person slept here" sort of touring.

2. "The Path of Democracy": 

This walking tour, also available from the TI, leads you around the cluster of unremarkable mid-century buildings slightly south of downtown that were once the home of German democracy. We skipped this tour, however, when even the guy giving us the brochure at the TI suggested it would not be worth the time and trouble - which made me feel very sad for Bonn-the-capital, used and discarded by the West Germans like a starter wife.

Not actually part of the Path of Democracy tour, but I thought it was a cool picture.

Getting hands on at the Arithmeum

3. Museums: 

Bonn seems to have a large number of them, probably thanks to its former capital glory. We, however, visited a less traditional museum: the Arithmeum, attached to a research institute for discrete mathematics. (What can I say, I date an engineer.) I for one really needed to see the "bizarre cogwheel mechanisms in mechanical calculating machines" as advertised, and I was not disappointed. The museum traces the history of adding, from the abacus through some rather ingenious renaissance and enlightenment contraptions to the explosion of (really complicated) adding machines before the advent of computers. Being a child of the '80s, it shocked me to see there was life before God invented the handheld calculator.

4. The Good Life: 

What Bonn does well is calm and pretty: pedestrianized streets and squares, parks, cafes, palatial buildings from the 1700s and 1800s (which Cologne severely lacks). The historic center of town, alongside the Rhine, is free of cars and has several squares and some nice winding streets. One could mellow here - which is perhaps the best way to spend an afternoon in Bonn.

All photo credits go to Jeff - thanks, Jeff!