Art and Fast Cars

As our train from Bologna pulled into Modena Station we could see the curved yellow building of the Museo Enzo Ferrari.  Once we had worked out which way to go, it was only a short walk to the entrance.

This museum is located at the house where he was brought up. There are two parts of the museum, the  house itself and the gallery in the new building we saw from the train. We started with the gallery: a pristine white display area in which Ferraris of various vintages are displayed to their advantage.  A slightly bored-looking woman wandered around with a broom ensuring there were no stray specks of dust underneath the cars, whilst opera music played in the background.

Around the walls of the gallery, where they wouldn’t interfere with the views of the cars, were  a series of display panels about the life of Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) and the history of motor manufacture in Modena. I found out that Enzo Ferrari actually started out as a racing driver for Alfa Romeo, whilst Maserati were making racing cars in Modena. After World War II Ferrari also began to construct racing cars.  In 1957, all 14 cars in the F1 line up were either Ferrari or Maserati – not only all Italian, but all from the same town. 

Right on schedule at 10.40 a.m. the gallery went dark for a film presentation. This was projected onto three walls and showed key events in the lifetime of Enzo Ferrari with a largely operatic soundtrack. No voiceover was needed. At one point the soundtrack was Nessun Dorma sung by Pavarotti – appropriately enough as the singer was also from Modena.

Contrary to what the Lonely Planet guidebook said, the exhibition in the house and workshop was not about the life of Enzo Ferrari, but about engines, with some more beautiful cars (and a speedboat) on display, although there was also a replica of Ferrari’s office at Maranello.

Having seen our fill of Ferraris, we walked into the centre of Modena past the Palazzo Ducale (once the home of the Este Dukes and birthplace of James II's Queen Maria de Modena, now military academy) but took a wrong turning and ended up going a very long way round before we finally found the Duomo. On the plus side, we managed to have a look in the covered market on the way.

Modena's cathedral is celebrated as the finest Romanesque church in Italy, and was recognised as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997. The pink marble exterior looks like some sort of sugar confection, with the pink spire of the Ghirlandina tower rising behind it. Inside is dark, and Romanesque in style – very different to many of the other churches we visited which had lavish Baroque interiors.

We stopped for a gelato on the way to the Palazzo de Musei.  I chose one labelled (in English), ‘Sweet Summer’ which was creamy with a passion fruit flavour. On arrival at the Palazzo de Musei, we found that the Civic Museums were closed for the summer break, but fortunately the Galleria Estense which was what we had come to see, was open. This gallery, which was far more extensive than I expected, houses the Este family collection of northern Italian paintings from late medieval to 18^th century along with some Flemish works.

Walked back to Piazza Grande, and had tea in a cafe, just next to the Palazzo Communale or town hall. The waiter brought me a cup with a slice of lemon in it, an Earl Grey teabag in the saucer, and a teapot.  Before I could stop him, the waiter poured water from the pot into the cup, leaving the teabag where it was. 

Our final visit of the day was to the Palazzo Communale, the 17^th century town hall where the historic rooms with elaborate painted ceilings are open to visitors free of charge.

All in all an enjoyable day out in Modena, my one regret being that we didn’t find time to sample the other local speciality: balsamic vinegar. I made up for it by having a delicious vegetable soufflé with balsamic dressing for dinner back in Bologna.

Another Bus(wo)man's Holiday!

Anatomical Wax Museum

As I sat on plastic chair in a very institutional-looking corridor, I wondered whether I was in my right mind. Outside, the sun was shining and the birds were singing, but I was inside a drab university building waiting for a member of staff to escort me upstairs.   I may work as a university administrator, but I was supposed to be on holiday.  Before I could think better of it and slip away, a young man approached and asked ‘you want to see our museum?’ ‘Oh yes, thank you’ I replied and meekly followed him upstairs and along a corridor into a room full of glass cases.  This was the University of Bologna’s Anatomical Wax Museum: a collection of nineteenth-century anatomical wax models by famous modellers. The exhibits were beautifully crafted models showing parts of the body in section along with some really gruesome models of pathological specimens of malformations and tumours.

By the time we made our escape, we felt that we had seen enough of university museums for the time being, so did not visit the Obstetrics Museum or Museum of Natural Sciences in the nearby Palazzo Poggi.  The University Botanical Gardens, on the other hand, provided a welcome green refuge whilst we planned our next move.

Archiginnasio Palace stairway

We had already visited the Archiginnasio Palace, which was inaugurated in 1563 as the first permanent seat of the university. Although Bologna is the oldest university in Europe, it did not have a permanent home until it came under the influence of the centralising tendencies of the Papal State during the Counter Reformation.  The galleries, halls and staircases are all richly decorated with arms of former students – nearly 6,000 of them. We visited the beautiful Stabat Mater lecture hall (named after the first performance of Rossini’s opera which took place there) and the Anatomy Theatre which was added in 1637, and is decorated with statues of famous ancient and Bolognese physicians. There, I was interested to see a small display about the first woman university professor, the physicist Laura Bassi, who received her doctorate in 1732.

There is a great deal more to Bologna than its university. It is packed with historic palaces, churches and museums, but on that Thursday morning we decided it was time to turn to another of the city’s attractions – lunchtime was approaching so we set off in search of a plate of tagliatelli ragù. 

By Train to Tomsk

This is an account of a trip I took to Tomsk, 'the Oxford of Siberia' in July 2010. My forthcoming trip to Bologna reminded me how often I seem to end up visiting universities on holiday.

We arrived at Yaroslavksy station in the evening to catch the Trans-Siberian train that was taking us to Tomsk.  We thought it would be more fun to mix with the locals so had booked berths in a compartment  for four. The other occupants were a girl in yellow top who was reading a Boris Akunin novel and older woman with henna red hair.

In the morning the girl with the yellow top got off early and was replaced by Yuri, who showed us where to borrow glass cups from the prodovnitsa  so that we could make tea from the samovar. The older lady got off at Kirov, where I had a look around the platform. It was full of women selling food and soft toys.  Yuri bought a cuddly hedgehog for one of his kids.  There followed an interesting interlude in which I tried and failed to explain about St Tiggywinkles in Russ-glish. At a later stop, I bought some bilberries, and Yuri bought dinner of chicken and potatoe. Lacking any cutlery he had to eat it with his teaspoon. 

Neil and I ate in the restaurant car, trying the  ’bourgeois surprise’, which turned out to be beef with orange and cheese on top.  Later Yuri kindly bought us ice-creams at another stop. The next morning we arrived at Yuri’s home town of Tumen at 10.30 local time or 8.30 Moscow time. The prodovnitsa helpfully gave him a pat on the bottom to wake him in time.

Yuri was superseded by a young woman with a daughter aged about three.  We shared some strawberries that we bought from an old lady at Omsk station with them. The prodovnitsa then decided it was time to vacuum the carriage, including our compartment – we all lifted our legs so she could get at the carpet.

On the third morning we finally arrived in Tomsk. After checking in to the incredibly (for us) luxurious Hotel Magistrat, we set out to explore. We walked down Prospekt Lenina, stopping for lunch of blini at a take-away in Troitsky Skver. In this small park  there were electric cars for children to play on, even a mini Ducati motorbike (with stabilisers), pony rides etc. and lots of what appeared to be thistledown everywhere, which actually came from the poplar trees. 

Chekov statue, Tomsk

The next day we met our local guide, Natasha, who had recently graduated in translation and linguistics from Tomsk Polytechnic University.  She took us to Resurrection Hill, the site of the rebuilt ‘Golden Gate’ wooden tower, and the stone marking the site of the original foundation of Tomsk in 1604.  Then we went to see the Shushkin House – an example of the traditional wooden architecture and where the writer Shushkin was exiled (apparently in some comfort.) We walked along the banks of the river Tom to see the statue of Anton Chekhov, who was not very flattering about Tomsk and its people, and is therefore depicted from the perspective of a drunk lying in the street. 

Whilst by the river, we saw some young people carrying buckets.  Natasha remarked “I completely forgot to mention it but 7 July is a day when people  go around and soak each other with water, so watch out for people with buckets.”niversity of Tomsk, which has various imported flora and fauna in its grounds, including blue spruce trees and squirrels.  This was the first university in Siberia to admit women (the UCL of Siberia….)  Then we visited Natasha’s own alma mater, the Polytechnic University – according to her, the best, and most expensive of the universities in Tomsk.

After another lunch of blini in the park again, we visited the Museum of Oppression – located in a basement, and genuinely oppressive. There were different displays in each cell: Lenin memorabilia,  a cell as it would have been when in use, the superintendent’s office, photos of those arrested and executed.

Peacock House

The next day we visited the wooden houses in Ul. Krasnoarmeyskaya: the Russo-German house (a Russian-German cultural centre, the Peacock House and the Dragon House.  It started to rain, so we sought refuge in a supermarket, where they sold loose frozen mushrooms of several varieties.

We also visited the elaborate Voznesenskaya Church which had beautiful pastel frecoes inside. Ladies needed to cover their heads, so I had to borrow one of the scarves they keep for the purpose.

As a change from blini we had lunch in the ‘English Pub’, a thee pub complete with dark wood fittings and engravings of English castles (Dudley castle, Arundel castle etc.). Many of the dishes on the menu seemed inspired by Robin Hood, or were served with ‘Sherwood Forest mushrooms’ and were not exactly authentic. The ‘English Channel’ salad contained smoked eel, radishes, cabbage and chips!

Voznesenskaya Church

All in all, it was a fascinating trip.

Isn't that a little mainstream for you?

It's happening again.

Torquay

Last year I received incredulous looks when I told friends and colleagues where I was going for my summer holiday. There's nothing wrong with Devon, of course, and lots of people spend a week in Torquay, but I have a reputation to maintain.

I managed to redeem myself with Christmas in Beijing and New Year in Pyongyang, but my summer choice of Bologna is seen as not particularly adventurous.

Well, too bad.  I travel to see the world and have new experiences, but sometimes I just like to go on holiday, and Italy is the perfect place for that.

Leaving North Korea

6.00 a.m. on a freezing January morning and we were sitting in a minibus outside the Yanggakdo Hotel, wondering what was keeping our guides.  Eventually they emerged from the building, and climbed into the minibus, thrusting a carrier bag into my lap.  It felt warm.

“Breakfast!” they explained.

As it was still pitch dark and the minibus was bouncing along, eating the contents there and then seemed impractical.  I prefer to see what I am eating, anyway.

On arrival at the shiny new airport terminal building, we were able finally able to see what was in our picnic breakfast: a plastic tray containing still-warm omelettes, doorstep slices of white bread, bottled water and a bottle of warm milk.   But there was no opportunity to eat it yet – it was time to check in.  This was a great deal easier than the procedure for our outward flight from Beijing. We just walked up to the desk, handed over our bags, passport and ticket reservation, and in a minute or two, it was done. 

It was time to say farewell to the guides who had been our constant companions for the last week.

I expected intimidating security, but the officer simply leafed through my passport, stamped it and handed it back. “Happy New Year!” he said in perfect English.  

To my surprise, we emerged into the Departure lounge with our picnic breakfast intact.  Time for an omelette sandwich before a little last-minute shopping.

Postscript: On the plane, a tour guide a row or two behind us was panicking that one of her group, Otto, was not on the plane.  The flight crew told her that he had complained of a headache and asked to be taken to hospital.  I think we were all slightly sceptical of this, but it was not until over a year later that I learned what had happened to Otto Warmbier. A chilling note to end what had for us been an interesting and entirely safe experience.

A Sunny Day in London

Today may be the only day of the English summer, and we had planned to spend it in London.  After a leisurely breakfast we decided to walk down to the station so that we could at least admire the bluebells on the way. 

Buckinghamshire bluebells

Arriving in London at 11.00 a.m. our first stop was the National Portrait Gallery to see the Russia and the Arts exhibition.  This was excellent. It's on until 26 June 2016 - see it if you can. Entry is £6.00, but Art Pass holders get in at half price.

In 1856 Pavel Tretyakov began to collect Russian art. By the time he donated his collection to the city of Moscow in 1892, there were almost 2,000 works, which formed the core of the State Tretyakov Gallery. 

The works are a survey of the golden age of Russian portraiture from Realist to Impressionist.  The exhibition starts with a portrait of Tretyakov, painted by Repin in 1901, three years after his death, but the subjects of the other portraits in the exhibition are writers, artists, composers and patrons. Particular highlights for me were a painting of Vladimir Dal, with really haunting eyes by Perov (1872),  and one of Mussorgsky by Repin (1881).  At first glance I thought the latter looked like like Oliver Reed after a heavy night. It was actually painted in hospital a few days before the composer’s death from alcoholism.

Our next stop was rather less highbrow - the Cartoon Museum in Little Russell Street, to see a small exhibition of artwork of covers from Target novelisations of classic Doctor Who stories. The daughter of one of the artists used to work for me (something I only found out after she had been working for me for quite a long time). We also had a look around the graphic novel exhibition downstairs.  Our Art Passes came in handy again, as we got in free.

After lunch at nearby Tas in Bloomsbury Street (I don't know why Turkish restaurants are not more popular - the food is superb), we headed to our final stop of the day, the British Museum for the Sicily: Culture and Conquest exhibition. Here I flashed my British Museum Friends card for free admission. 

This very well-presented exhibition shows how the different peoples who conquered and settled on the island: Greeks, Phoenicians, Romans, Goths, Byzantines, Arabs and Normans added to the richness of its unique cultural identity.

Three exhibitions in a day is about as much cultural stimulation as I can handle, and it was getting quite hot in the city so we set off for home.  If I had been staying in London, it would definitely have been time for tea in a park.

 

In the Spotlight...

Pyongyang

How exciting! I'm one of the three April 2016 Virtual Tourist Spotlight members.


I have been on Virtual Tourist for twelve years now (VT is ancient in internet years) and have pages on 200 locations on Virtual Tourist: a strange mix of the exotic (Ashgabat, Pyongyang) and the prosaic (High Wycombe). 

In other news, my other half's article about our North Korea trip has been published in Optima magazine.