So, even though other birds can’t really hold a candle to the mighty penguin, there are some pretty cool ones out there. Flamingos are ace, for example. And there are lots of other awesome ones at London Zoo. Can’t remember their names, sorry. What do you think I am, a walking ornithology guide?
Terrifying and beautiful – the Sumatran tigers, Jae Jae and Melati…
This is the first in a series on London Zoo. First off, the beautiful butterflies…
My first trip to Istanbul was with my dad in September 2005. We arrived during Ramadan and spent our first evening wandering around the food stalls that lined Sultanahmet Square and the Hippodrome. The local residents had started queuing well before sundown in order to be first to enjoy the array of delights: stuffed aubergines, lamb kebabs and baklava…as well as the more touristy fare of popcorn, turkish delight and toffee apples. There were fairy lights, crafts stalls, live music and a really friendly, festive atmosphere. The obelisk in the Hippodrome was dramatically illuminated and both Aya Sofya and Sultan Ahmed Mosque, situated at either end of the square, were covered in lights and set off in all their splendour. I decided immediately that I loved the city.
There are too many wonderful sights in Istanbul to list them all, but I’ll mention just a few. First, Topkapı Palace. Built in the 15th century, the palace was the royal residence of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years. Converted into a museum in the early 20th century, it now contains various holy relics of the Muslim world, Islamic calligraphic manuscripts and murals, and a host of Ottoman treasures and jewellery. Passing though the Imperial Gate and the Court of the Janissaries, you reach the impressive Gate of Salutation that leads you 
into the palace itself. The complex is vast, with hundreds of rooms, grassed courtyards and fountains. Aside from the Treasury, with its stunning array of sceptres, jewel-encrusted daggers, and random piles of ‘spare’ giant rubies and emeralds, the Imperial Harem was the highlight. Home to the Sultan’s mother, his concubines, eunuchs, wives, children and servants, the labyrinth of passageways, secret doors and terraced rooms is a gateway to a completely unfamiliar time and culture. The Imperial Sofa (throne room) and crown prince’s apartment – where he was kept in isolation in a gilded cage – are opulent and colourful, yet have a real sense of foreboding. The feeling soon dissipates, however, as you exit to the İftar Pavilion with its beautiful view over the Golden Horn. With the sun beating down, I could have happily stayed there for the rest of the day.
But then I’d have missed seeing what has become my favourite building in the world: Aya Sofya. The original building was constructed in only five years, opening in 537 under the Roman Emperor Justinianos. It was used as a church for 916 years (being the world’s largest cathedral for most of that time) and then, following the conquest of Istanbul by Fatih Sultan Mehmed, the building was converted into a mosque. It was used as a mosque for almost 500 years and then in 1935 under the order of Atatürk (the first President of the Republic of Turkey) it was converted into a museum. I can’t describe how amazing this building is. Standing in the centre, looking up at the domed basilica, takes your breath away. Golded mosaics and gigantic boards of calligraphy adorn the interior, and the exterior – with its four tall minarets and salmon walls –is equally impressive. I must have taken about 100 photos!
Whilst nothing could top it, Istanbul is not short of other fantastic architecture. Both Sultan Ahmed Mosque (better known as the Blue Mosque) and Süleymaniye Mosque are remarkable and still working places of worship. With your shoes off and head covered (if you’re a lady), it’s easy to see why the buildings evoke such a sense of wonder and majesty in 
their congregation. On my second visit with Paul and his family in 2009, we sat for some time on the Blue Mosque’s courtyard steps just as dusk was approaching, admiring how the stunning golden light lit the nine domes. The Grand Bazaar is also spectacular. One of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 60+ covered streets and over 3,000 shops: it is very easy to get lost! My first proper experience of haggling (if you don’t count the time in Tunisia when my dad tried to swap me for camels) was semi-successful – I definitely talked the shop-owner down, but don’t really think I came away with a bargain. Still, the glass lamp is in our bedroom to this day and looks lovely.
Just two more buildings I have to mention… the Church of St. Saviour in Chora, which my dad and I sought out, and Dolmabahçe Palace on the Bosphorus strait, which we visited on my second trip. Now a museum, St. Saviour’s is considered to be one of the most beautiful surviving examples of a Byzantine church and is covered in exquisite mosaics. It was well worth the taxi trip, though the walk back took us through one of the poorest neighbourhoods and it was difficult to witness barefoot children searching for metal scraps to sell. A reminder that outside the tourist centre Istanbul unfortunately still has areas of real poverty. The glamorous Dolmabahçe was built in the 19th century as the administrative centre of the late Ottoman Empire and has the world’s largest crystal chandelier. I’d seen it from a boat on our first trip and so was glad to have the opportunity to go inside. Patrolled by the palace guard and accessible only via guided tour, it is a strikingly lavish building reminiscent of Versailles in France.
Since I’ve mentioned the boat trip, I would definitely recommend taking a tour from Emınönü port around the Sea of Mamara and up the Bosphorus to the mouth of the Black Sea. Our trip lasted about 4 hours, I think, taking us past watchtowers, bridges and lighthouses, and providing time to wander around Rumeli fort at the furthest point along the river. Oh, and you should go up Galata Tower in the Karaköy quarter too. And to the Spice Market. And eat lots of Anatolian casserole. And, and, and…
Dusk at Sultan Ahmed Mosque
Cleansing
To Be Enthroned
Rooftops of the Old City
There is a flower that bees prefer,
And butterflies desire;
To gain the purple democrat
The humming-birds aspire.
And whatsoever insect pass,
A honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her capacity.
Her face is rounder than the moon,
And ruddier than the gown
Of orchis in the pasture,
Or rhododendron worn.
She doth not wait for June;
Before the world is green
Her sturdy little countenance
Against the wind is seen,
Contending with the grass,
Near kinsman to herself,
For privilege of sod and sun,
Sweet litigants for life.
And when the hills are full,
And newer fashions blow,
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy.
Her public be the noon,
Her providence the sun,
Her progress by the bee proclaimed
In sovereign, swerveless tune.
The bravest of the host,
Surrendering the last,
Nor even of defeat aware
When cancelled by the Frost.
– Emily Dickinson
My Lily (London Wetland Centre, Barnes: 2009)
Perfect White (Chelsea Physic Garden: 2011)
Gathering Dew (Kew Gardens: 2013)
Delicacy Made Real (Canterbury: 2010)
Still Life (Begur, Spain: 2011)
On Purple (Kew Gardens: 2013)
Spikes (Kew Gardens: 2013)
Springtime (Dulwich: 2011)
New Orleans is an absolutely fantastic place. There’s music everywhere, all sorts of weird and wonderful people, and a real sense that anything goes. The main tourist strip of Bourbon Street in the French Quarter is pretty gruesome to behold of an evening, and we tended to avoid it, but our B&B – the Royal Street Courtyard – was actually closer to Frenchmen Street, which is full of excellent music clubs and bars.
After receiving a very friendly and comprehensive welcome and induction from our host Philip, we spent our first afternoon and then the next day strolling and riding the trolley in the French Quarter and Garden District. Both areas are packed full of beautiful architecture, antique and art shops, and of course great bars for the necessary cold beers (the best way to tackle the humidity). We also called in for the obligatory coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde, and oyster lunch at Acme. Musically, we warmed up for the weekend with a night out around Frenchmen and Decatur. We started with lovely Creole tapas and stomping piano at The Three Muses, then took in a great young brass band, a club with a DJ playing vintage soul, and finished off with trad jazz in the lovely Spotted Cat.
All great stuff… but then came the main event…
Jazz Fest was two days packed full of some of the best music, sunshine, lovely food and the friendliest crowd you could wish for. Hard to do it justice really, but the highlights were Irma Thomas, Bonnie Raitt and the Rebirth Brass Band. We also squeezed in Herbie Hancock, Allen Toussaint, the Meters, Foo Fighters, Preservation Hall Brass Band and a few gospel and blues acts. And I can’t not mention the food. OMG (as the kids say)! Soft shell crab po’boys, crawfish monica, gumbo…heavenly! We finished our second day with huge grins on our faces, and a determination to do this again soon!
Driving south out of NOLA, post-Jazz, we boarded an airboat with our guide Louis in the Jean Lafitte wetland area. Speeding through Lake Salvador and the cypress waterways, Louis regaled us with stories of Cajun swamp life, pirates, Creole history and the battle of New Orleans. And then the boat slowed to a cruising pace and we were suddenly surrounded by alligators. I’m not exaggerating when I say they were literally bumping up against the boat. Louis fed them marshmallows and even got out onto the bank to get up close and personal. Lunatic! After some initial trepidation, however, we both bravely held a small ‘gator, proudly posing for a photo.
The following day, we took the trolley along the riverfront and up Canal Street to the City Park, a lush, sprawling area in Mid-City. Among the many innovatively-named areas of the park, my personal favourites were ‘Big Lake’, ‘Great Lawn’ and ‘Middling-Sized Pond’ (though I may have made the last one up). After spending a really pleasant hour meandering through the Sculpture Garden, admiring the eclectic mix of pieces by Rodin, Miro, Plensa, Moore, Bourgeois and many others, it became critical to find shade. Luckily, the New Orleans Modern Art Museum was our next port of call, with its welcoming (if not overly-aggressive) air-con. With collections of Native American and Louisiana artwork, as well as a fascinating photography exhibition, we whiled away more hours, before returning to the B&B to freshen up and head out to Bacchanal, a grungy courtyard wine bar. Twinkly fairy lights, delicious food and a jazz trio: another big tick.
For our final day in Nawlins, we took in the Louis Armstrong Park and St Louis No. 1 Cemetery in Treme, then headed through the arty Warehouse District to Cochon Butcher, a favourite of chefs and food critics. Yum! With weary legs, we decided to spend the afternoon aboard Steamboat Natchez. The Mississippi river isn’t picturesque, but we enjoyed sunning ourselves and sipping cocktails on deck. And, as a last treat, we went out in the evening to Cafe Amelie, a swish courtyard restaurant. A simply wonderful end to the holiday.
But it wasn’t quite the end of the trip. First, we had to get back to Atlanta airport. As a result of the frankly ludicrous American hire-car industry’s refusal to accept a credit card from anyone other than the driver of the car (and Paul’s lack of said credit card), we were forced to drop off the car in the same location as we’d picked it up. So, having cancelled our internal flight from NOLA, we took a scenic coastal drive, stopping in Biloxi on the Gulf of Mexico for shrimp and a quick stroll on the beach, then continued onward to Birmingham, where we stayed overnight before driving to the airport. The least said about Birmingham the better. Suffice to say, Paul now has a credit card.
I’m cheating a bit with this blog entry, as some of you will realise. Most of the text here was first written as a series of postcards during our time in America in April/May 2012, or has been adapted from those missives. It seemed silly to reinvent the wheel! The linchpin of our three-week road trip was The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival (aka Jazz Fest) in Louisiana, but as our route plan took shape we were soon taking in the southern states of Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi and Alabama as well. This blog post takes us from Atlanta to our arrival in ‘Nawlins’…
First stop: Atlanta, Georgia
After a stroll through Piedmont Park on our first day, we caught the Marta (underground) to Philips Arena and picked up tickets to our first “ball game”: Atlanta Hawks vs. New York Knicks. Incredible! Someone had told us before we came that basketball in the U.S. is two and a half hours long with only 48 minutes of actual sport. I don’t think I’d really believed them. Luckily, in amongst the cheerleading, choirs, brass band, trick shots, and plentiful ‘time outs’, we witnessed some nail-biting basketball. I quickly became a Hawks fan, complete with foam hand and sweatshirt. The final score: 112-113 to the Knicks – gutting, since the Hawks had attempted a slam dunk in literally the final second, only for it to be nudged away by a 7ft giant. Energised by the game, we had a brisk walk through Centennial Park and decided to take a tour of The World of Coca-Cola. Hmm. The history, pop culture and branding parts were actually quite interesting, but Atlanta’s pride at being home to the soft drink verged on the disturbing.
The next day saw us at the Martin Luther King Jr National Historic Centre. The National Park Service basically bought up a couple of blocks in the Downtown area in which ML (as he was known to his mates) grew up – so you can walk up Auburn Avenue, look round Ebenezer Baptist Church and have a guided tour of his birthplace. The exhibitions in Freedom Hall were also quite well done. Having studied the Civil Rights Movement for a term at uni, I was really keen to see it all. Coupled with a fascinating hour at the Civil War exhibition in the Atlanta History Centre, it turned out to be quite an educating day. At the time I boasted that if anyone had any questions about the political movement for black equality or the four-year conflict between the Union and Confederates, they should come to me (inevitably, I’m more than a tad rusty now!).
At the end of our short stay in Atlanta, we had a delicious meal at a very hip restaurant in Midtown, then got a taxi to Poncey-Highlands (great name, huh?) and went to Blind Willies blues bar. While I wouldn’t rush back to the city, it was an enjoyable introduction to our deep south adventure.
Second stop: Blue Ridge, Chattahoochee National Park
A short drive from Atlanta found us at ‘Serenity in the Mountains’, Blue Ridge. Peculiarly perched on a bank overlooking the interstate, the “spa motel” nevertheless proved a good base for exploring the Georgian woods. And our suite was gigantic: three rooms, a jacuzzi bath, big stone walk-in shower and a remote-controlled fire. Plus, I enjoyed the best full-body massage I’ve ever had (not that I’ve had that many to compare it to…).
Our first day in North Georgia was overcast and pretty chilly, but we had a pleasant stroll around ‘downtown’ Blue Ridge (mainly craft, art and antique shops), then drove out to a lake and local orchard. Loaded up with a huge apple pie and nice bottle of wine, we settled in for the night with books and movies. Our only really lazy night in of the trip! We we woke, the sun was out, so we set off on a 90 mile drive around the mountains and national park. Paul mumbled and grumbled as he tackled a rough track through the forest (discovering that you worry about invalidating your hire car insurance when you hit your mid-30s), but it was worth it for the wild-west style swinging bridge over the river at the end. Onward to the lovely town of Dahlonega – which saw the first recorded discovery of gold in the US back in the 1820s – before checking out the spectacular views at Amicalola Falls. The only real disappointment was the lack of bears.
Third stop: Nashville, Tennessee
Leaving Georgia behind, we next crossed into Tennessee. The weather had become hot and stormy, but we didn’t let that deter us from some serious sight-seeing. After a brief tour of Downtown Nashville, we enjoyed a delicious – and extremely messy – meal at Joe’s Crabshack.
Having mastered the different cracking, sawing and scooping implements, I’m now a convert to the hard-shell (and have since taken it to the next level with Rob and Laura, devouring the gigantic Neptune’s platter at the Poopdeck in Devon). In the evening, we first travelled into the ‘burbs to hear five up-and-coming female country singers at the Bluebird Cafe. The room is really intimate and the show was good, if a little earnest at times. My favourite track was by a precocious local who instructed us to “use what your moma gave ya” (a recurring theme for church-going country girls). After the Bluebird, we hit the honky-tonk bars on Broadway and 2nd Ave. Party-central: big neon signs, whisky and bourbon, music blaring into the street. Great fun! In Robert’s bar, we were even treated to a guest spot by Jeannie C. Riley…only learning the next day that the sweet old lady from the crowd that the band had humoured was actually a big country star from the ’60s.
Having rolled in at 3am, Paul was feeling decidedly sluggish the next day. I, on the other hand, was surprisingly perky, so dragged him out of bed for more tourist fun! We walked to the Country Music Hall of Fame, past Ryman’s Auditorium, and spent a few hours educating ourselves on Nashville and Bakersfield music history. Deciding against the city park, home to the only replica of the Greek Parthenon in the US (?!), we instead toured the Capitol building. The state’s legislative period only runs from January-May, and they were wrapping up early that year to accommodate renovation work, so we caught them on their last day in session. Both the Senate and House of Representatives were sitting, racing through Bills at an alarming rate. The senators mainly seemed to be milling around eating popcorn and Doritos (no joke), with little debate, so we left feeling confident in Tennessee’s law-making. In the evening, after a steak dinner, we caught two excellent bands – The Preservation and Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears – at Mercy Lounge, a converted canning factory at the edge of Downtown. The strange thing about relatively small-town American cities is that, due to the fact that the whole population drives, bars do a roaring trade in low- and non-alcoholic beer. Given we could happily walk back to our digs, we stuck to the hard stuff!
The next morning it was off to Memphis, but not before calling in at Loveless Cafe on Highway 100 for breakfast. The half-hour wait for a table at the Tennessee institution was definitely worth it! I was in heaven: pit-cooked pulled barbecue pork, eggs over-easy, potato and cheese casserole, freshly-baked biscuits (scones) and jam. Yes, that was just mine! I made the important decision that it would be my chosen death-row meal.
Fourth stop: Memphis, Tennessee
It’s hard not to be swept up by Elvis-fever in the city where you hear ‘That’s All Right (Mama)’ everywhere you go. Graceland was actually pretty fantastic though, really bringing home just how much he achieved in a pretty short life. Not as gaudy as you might imagine either, but still brilliantly ostentatious. On the music history front, we also checked out the Memphis Rock ‘n’ Soul Museum, Sun Records studios, the Stax Museum (tagline: “nothing against the Louvre, but you can’t dance to DaVinci”), and listened to some pretty authentic delta blues at the Southern Folklore Heritage Center. Excellent, every last one of them.
The obligatory Beale Street crawl was a lot of fun. The live music ranged from the Allstars phoning it in a little in B.B.King’s, to the hilarious Dr ‘Feelgood’ Potts and his original, harmonica-led stomps (“My in-laws, they ain’t nothin’ but outlaws”) in W.C.Handy’s. Just as good was the National Civil Rights Museum, which is housed in the old Lorraine Motel where ML was assassinated. It’s an incredibly moving and humbling exhibition. Listening to Rev Kyles recount the story of the ‘mountaintop’ speech and then watching the footage sends shivers down your spine. Oooh, and I’d be remiss not to mention Gus’ World Famous Fried Chicken. Certainly not worth joining the two-hour queue on a Friday or Saturday night, but if you pop in for a quick mid-week lunch you won’t be disappointed. Yes, it’s become a bit of a tourist trap, but the locals obviously still love it and they ain’t wrong.
Fifth stop: Natchez, Mississippi
The weather became increasingly hot and sticky as we headed south down the Mississippi…and the biting insects more plentiful. It wasn’t the most interesting of drives for Paul – almost 5 hours on the same inter-state – but it was easy and the air-con kept us sane. Our B&B – The Elms – was a charmingly ramshackle property dating back to 1804 and set in large grounds. The floors were uneven – the terraces having a good 45 degree slope – and everywhere creaked and moaned. Coupled with the owner’s laissez faire attitude to door locks and the numerous books of ghost tales around town, this made the place just a little spooky. Our room was large and lovingly furnished, though, and I needed a footstool to clamber into the enormous bed!
Esther, the owner, is proclaimed as one of the 20 best women chefs in America by USA Today, and her breakfasts were certainly impressive. Muffins, biscuits, pancakes, grits, eggs…all freshly prepared in her enormous kitchen, of which we were particularly envious. She wasn’t talkative though, so we were instead treated to conversation with wealthy speedboat-owning Texans and an over-excited couple from North Carolina who were also en route to New Orleans. As per the rest of the trip, everyone wanted to talk about the Royals! It’s incredible just how much they all seem to love Wills and Kate.
Natchez itself is packed full of gorgeous antebellum homes, funded by the pre-Civil War cotton plantation boom. With the end of the war and the dissolution of slavery, many landowners were forced to move back up north for work and the homes fell into disrepair. Luckily, many have since been restored and are maintained by the Pilgrimage Garden Club and the austere-sounding Daughters of the American Revolution. A fine last stop before NOLA…
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