Tom Hall: travel, London, other things

Stanley Donwood makes beautiful art and has connections to some of my favourite writers – Roger Deakin and Robert Macfarlane, and is also Radiohead’s in-house artist. His choice of name for the title of his latest exhibition caused a large outbreak of excitement in my family. Without implicating anyone in decades old criminal activity, it is safe to say that there is a direct and enduring link between us Halls and the slogan, daubed on a wall on the trackside outside Paddington station stating enigmatically ‘Far Away is Close at Hand in Images of Elsewhere’.

Donwood’s revival of the slogan provides a memorable title for his hugely striking exhibition at the Outsiders, 8 Greek St, London until Saturday 19 October. Holloway, his work with Macfarlane and Dan Richards, features works that make up much of the exhibition, which can be viewed here larger and close up. They convey the raw and mysterious atmosphere of the area of Dorset that hid the sunken lanes inspiring the work. Now the lanes are, by all accounts, gone. I was lucky to go to the area of Dorset where they’re found but my own exploring was restricted to some of the Iron Age hill forts that dot the landscape. They offered a taste of what the holloways must have been like.

The highlight of Far Away… for me was the coloured forest scenes on the ground floor, including the huge, mesmerizing colour painting that forms the centrepiece of the show. You half expect Pan himself to emerge from the blazing light at the centre of the piece. I won’t reproduce it here as to do it justice you have to see it full size and close up. You can find it on the Outsiders site below. The full image of the Holloway jacket, below looks lovely too.

Go and see this superb show if you’re at all able. It may inspire you to pick up a brush and get busy somewhere.

www.theoutsiders.net

So Istanbul is deeply wonderful. A great destination.

I’d usually recommend staying on the Pera (Beyoglu) side of the Golden Horn, still in Europe but not in Sultanahmet, unless you fancy the Empress Zoe where Imogen and I stayed (emzoe.com) – it’s a very lovely hotel right in the heart of Sultanahmet in an old Byzantine cistern, so if you can stay there I would. If not the Maramara Pera is also nice but bigger and different and just off Istiklal Cadessi, their Oxford St and so good for eating out and what-not. Even if you stay at Empress Zoe you should cross the bridge to eat.

So, first morning, get yourself to Hagia Sophia early. It opens at 9 and if you’re in the queue you get a bit of peace. It’s big enough for the crowds to be absorbed but nice to have to yourself. If you go straight upstairs you’ll have even more quiet. There’s a grafitto of a medieval galleon to be found on one of the pillars – see if you can spot it!

After experiencing Justinian’s triumph you’ll probably need a lie down (Procopius’ The Buildings is a scholarly companion). Watch out for fat American bottoms on white marble outside. this is all that remains of Theodosius’ basilica on the same spot.Don’t put your bottom on it but ponder what happened to Theo himself. Died while riding.

Theodosius II is also a fine figure in our story for another reason. He built the huge land walls that you pass as you comein from Ataturk Airport. They were so mighty a bastion none could pierce them until Venice in 1205 and The Turks in 1453. They’re well nang.

From here, Little Hagia Sophia (Kucuk Aya Sofya) is a short walk and a lovely mosque. It was also built by our old mates Anthemius of Tralles and Isidor of Miletus who came up with HS. There’s a lovely quiet tea garden next door and some artisan shops which we got some nice goodies in when there last time.

Another belter the other side of Hagia Sophia is the National Archaeological Museum. Not dry! Look out for the Sublime Porte, from where the Ottoman Empire was governed and obsequious ambassador’s grovelled. Ataturk put a stop to all that, but it’s also worth considering that the Greeks came pretty close to getting Constantinople back pre-1923. Then Ataturk passed the Turkish Postal Act which decreed mail addressed to Constantinople would not be delivered. Couldn’t have the same impact today.

Ah yes, I remember now, then you can walk through Gulhane Park, pausing at the Barabarian’s Column, and have a Turkish Coffee at Seraglio Point.

Anyway, National Archaeological Museum. Worth it for the Alexander Sarcophagi alone. They still have their paint on them. Astonishing. Look out also for the length of chain that was part of the barrage the Greeks suspended across the Golden Horn in time of need. Along with their ability to propel flames out of primitive fire-hoses (the secret of ‘Greek Fire’ that has never been solves) this helped keep them in power in Constantinople for 1200 years. Will the London Book Fair still be held then?

I’d also strongly recommend the Chora Church (Kariye Musezi) in the west of Sultanahmet. It’s a taxi ride from anywhere but the mosaics are quite breathtaking. If you’re really into shiny Byzantine stuff that the Pammarkaristos Church near Fatih Mosque is also good. Blue Mosque is so-so – Fatih and Suleymaniye are both Sinan specials and really super. Cover up and all that. Walking can be a bit confusing but there’s so much street life – you’ll love it.

If you do go to Chora, or anywhere in the Western Districts then get your baklava here – about a third of the price of the bazaar and v authentic.

Go for a barbecued fish in pitta bread off the boats on the Sultanahmet waterfront near Sirceki station. Yum yum. Give the stuffed mussels from the street vendors a miss!

Other things – ferrying up the Bosphorus is the next thing I want to do, passing Rumeli Hisar and Mehmet the Conqueror’s other fortresses. That was when Constantine IX knew the game was up.

Some people not obsessed with Late Antiquity and women called Eudoxia and Euphemia like to go to Istanbul Modern on the Karakoy waterfront (easy tram ride from anywhere). I haven’t been.

Don’t know anything about eating out fancy like. I’ve conked out by then.

This quote is pinned to the noticeboard in Highgate Men’s Pond and I wanted to copy it here.

As I envisage it, landscape projects into us not like a jetty or peninsula, finite and bounded in its volume and reach, but instead as a kind of sunlight, flickering unmappable in its plays yet often quickening and illuminating. We are adept, if occasionally embarrassed, at saying what we make of places – but we are far less good at saying what places make of us. For some time now it has seemed to me that the two questions we should ask of any strong landscape are these: firstly, what do I know when I am in this place that I can know nowhere else? And then, vainly, what does this place know of me that I cannot know of myself?

I have spent Saturdays plunging into green, frigid water. Though not what some visitors to the Men’s Pond in Highgate would call a regular, I’m there often enough to get used to, and love, the cold. This winter has been extra long, and extra cold. Here are a few pictures.

January 1. The waters of the Fleet that gather in these ponds offer renewal and hope for the year ahead. Note the presence of the sun in this picture: it has not been seen often.

Not everyone wanted to bid farewell to winter. As February rolled into March signs of Spring were evident in slowly warming water. The lifeguard who wrote this sign got his wish: winter came back and temperatures cooled again.

‘There aren’t any women here, are they?’ John Cleese need not normally worry, the Men’s Pond is usually true to its name. On this Saturday Ladies from the (where else) Ladies Pond were invited along. I envied their staying power in the water though to be honest some of them dilly-dallied about getting in.

Anyone who’s been through the endless British winter of 2013 knows how snowy it has been. I should have known that at some point I’d have a snowy swim. This was the marvellous scene as I got changed, alone for once. Believe it or not the water was warmer than it ad been for some time.

My sole concession to the cold water, neoprene gloves, kept my fingers warm but the snow numbed my feet as I walked along the jetty.

What a wonderful winter. The pond is civilisation, tranquility and wide-eyed wonder at nature.

For reasons I haven’t quite fathomed out, people who loved travelling to new places and exploring independently retreat into a shell of all-inclusive resorts and old school Mediterranean destinations when they have kids. Maybe they discover a new-found taste for seaside spots they would have avoided like the plague before, or maybe they just play it safe and have slightly less fun on holiday than they used to.

Choosing Switzerland for our family holiday last year (2012) raised a few eyebrows among some of these people. Its appeal in winter was obvious. Black runs in Wengen, fondue parties, bottom-smacking games with the chalet hosts and all that. But go in summer? With kids? It was like unfurling a map with ‘here be dragons’ on it. And wouldn’t it be horribly expensive?

We had arrived at the decision to go to Switzerland, though, through a process of elimination. It was June, and we didn’t want a long flight, so it should be Europe. Small boys like trains and their parents like swimming, which made us think first of Iceland, then Norway, then settle on the high Alps. We were aided by the discovery of this campsite, which convinced us we could sleep cheaply, in an idyllic location, and get around using public transport. After committing this far, as we planned so the delightful possibilities of the Berner Oberland revealed themselves.

The next bit is in some ways the most complicated. A Swiss travel pass is an essential part of any visitor’s arsenal, conferring as it does not just a varying range of discounts on what non-Swiss would term public transport but also cutting the price of most cable-cars, funiculars and other unusual ways of getting up a mountainside. Not only that, but passes cut the cost of entry into many visitor attractions. In short, if you have one flash it everywhere. There are quite an array of passes out there. The Swiss Pass is the simplest and most flexible and also the most expensive. The Half Fare Card is cheaper and almost as useful if you’re not planning to ride trains every day but still want to do some roaming around. Note that while the Swiss Pass gets you most places it only offers a 25% discount beyond Kleine Schiedigg on the Jungfraujoch – the best way to get up there is to go either early or late in the day, or pick up the Jungfrau Pass. You need to get these passes before you go, so be organised. Full details at Swiss Travel System.

Once in Switzerland, camping gives you a great excuse to economise. With views of the Jungfrau from just outside our tent we were more than happy to barbecue a few sausages or have simple meals as a family. Interlaken has three big supermarkets where you can stock up. Some things cost more than in the UK – meat was one of them – but basics were about the same and beer and ice cream, rather marvellously, were cheaper if you got them in a shop rather than a bar. Packed lunched helped too, and small boys with picky tastes were fuelled on several mountain yomps by endless cream cheese and cucumber wraps. They didn’t go a bundle on local cheese, but parents did, and a picnic next to a fast flowing stream, sitting in a flower-covered Alpine meadow seemed to make everyone happy.

Other wonders were waiting. At the top of the Allmendhubel cable car, reached from Murren, was an idyllic kids playground. Another one was to be found at Bort, uphill from Grindelwald, bigger and better and – for the brave – with a Trottibike, a grown-up scooter you could ride with a child in front of you, to whizz down again on. We weren’t allowed to go on these with kids on the Niederhorn, by the way, but officials were happy for us to do so, with helmets provided, at Bort.

I’m almost loathe to mention how deeply lovely the public swimming pool in Wengen is unless anyone else goes there. On an early summer morning we had it to ourselves. It has a perfect kids paddling pool, lawns to laze on and a high board to jump off, all to a backdrop of simply astonishing Alpine views. There was great swimming also to be found at riverside pools in Zurich and Thun and at Habkern near Interlaken and in Interlaken itself. In fact, just going from pool to pool could be a great holiday in itself. And that’s without even mentioning Lake Thun, clear and cool and always changing.

Lastly, a few other points in Switzerland’s favour: it caters for kids, doesn’t charge the earth for them and has a very high standard of pretty much everything. If your children are under 16 they’ll travel for free, and discounts for those under 16 are universal. Those who feel their passion for the world’s great experiences should be enhanced, rather than diminished by having children would be wise to consider it. It is more than financially possible and will probably be one of the most memorable holidays you’ll ever have.

Legendary football statistician Albert Sewell penned the Observer’s Book of Soccer, a suitably pocket-rocketesque contribution to the canon of Observer’s books.

I picked up a copy of the fifth edition, with powerhouse striker Malcolm ‘Supermac’ Macdonald in his Arsenal pomp gracing the cover, on holiday in Lyme Regis from the wonderful Sanctuary Bookshop. More on Lyme to come soon.

The inside is a collection of facts and figures from around the world of football in the late seventies and includes a wonderful colour insert detailing the kits of the league clubs of the day. Sorry for the grainy pictures but you should get the idea.

The highlights of this retro kit bonanza start immediately – note Blackburn Rovers’ harlequin collar and neck line.

Burnley’s blue chevron must have made many a Lancastrian lass’ heart skip a beat on an otherwise drab Turf Moor afternoon. And surely Cardiff would have graced the top flight a little sooner had they stuck to the natty number above rather than cashed in and changed colours altogether. In fairness, the colour change appears to be helping somewhat at the time of writing.

Coventry’s motoring heritage is reflected in their dazzling Autobahn-esque sky blue special.

Of all the kits here only Middlesborough are still rocking a round neck. Ayresome.

Port Vale’s sleeves are quite breathtaking. Was there a short-sleeve version?

This was the Tottenham kit worn by a young Glenn Hoddle. They didn;’t win much then either but they looked good.

West Ham have surely never looked better. As for York City, Y not?

This page deals with goalkeepers and international kits. The best ever Welsh kit, bar none. And the yellow goalkeepers top severely marked ‘internationals only’.

You often find this and other ‘Observer’s’ books knocking around for a few quid and there’s always something new to learn in them. Highly recommended.

Here are a few photos from Kraftwerk’s show at the Tate Modern that I was lucky enough to go to last night. They played Radioactivity pretty much in full, plus plenty of their best-known songs to a light and 3D effects show that made for one of the most astonishing concerts I can remember.

On entering the Tate Modern we were given wristbands, 3D glasses and an information sheet explaining the band’s importance and how the show would work. It said they’d be on at 9pm. They arrived at 9pm on the dot.

The show took place in the middle of the Turbine Hall. This is an immense space and less than half of it was used. The stage was at the foot of the slope on the western side of the hall. Cushions were issued  but everyone stood up and danced when Kraftwerk came on.

The sonic accompaniment to the backdrop above was typical distorted vocal sounds, like the first sound of ‘Ohm sweet ohm’. These got more frequent and louder as 9pm approached.

The first song was We Are The Robots, accompanied by amazing 3D effects – words and symbols flying over the heads of the crowd.

We were right at the front. Only 1000 people were in the venue (someone else said it was 700, I’m not sure) and there was lots of space at the front.

Ralf Hütter, the only original member of the group still performing, is on the far left.

We’d been promised a Gesamtkunstwerk (full artistic synthesis), but the two-hour set felt more like a regular concert than I was probably expecting. Contrary to the image, the four chaps on stage danced about a bit – though they never left their control panels. Hütter sang the vocals on several songs which I also wasn’t expecting. There’s a lot of humour in Kraftwerk and it was hugely fun.

Friends who had seen them before felt that hearing more obscure sections of Radioactivity was the real treat of the evening. This is the visual from Radioland .

Bonus points for Kraftwerk-enthusiasm go to the man in a knitted Man Machine jumper. From Russia, he told us, but bought in Sweden for him by a friend who was a ‘moderate’ Kraftwerk fan. I figured I would not get too high up his scale of mania for the band as I did not own a pair of Kraftwerk socks.

At the end of a hugely enjoyable set the band left the stage one by one, the sound reducing by a clear element at each point of departure. Hütter was left on his own for a minute, then the electro-pioneer exited the stage.