Post # 11 - let's talk about london

Disclaimer: I love my kids. Very much. However, this blog post contains true and very tough details about travelling with toddlers. Also has some tips which might make parents of toddlers rethink their summer travel plans.

Where do I begin? Let's begin with hopeful starts. Even though our flight to Dubai was delayed by an hour which meant that a) the routine of the twins got messed up and b) we had very little transit time at Dubai airport, hubby dear and I were confident and positive that we'll get through it all smoothly. We also had help from a friend, Aziz Sohail, who sat with us through the delay at the lounge and let me tell you, friend or no friend, it's no fun to be with someone who has two unhappy toddlers. He also gave up his seat for us so Adnan and I could sit together because with twins, you need both parents on the spot. Team work is what gets you through. A big shout out to him for being there for us when we were showing signs of breaking down. 

Tip#1: Don't be shy in taking help whenever and wherever it's offered to you when travelling with toddlers. 

The thing about toddlers is that no matter how 'prepared' you are, you're never really prepared. I had bought harnesses for both Z and N and I was sure that with the twins attached to the harnesses, we'll navigate our way through the madness of the airport. But toddlers have a mind of their own and since they can't speak to show their displeasure, they use the rest of their body. As soon as we walked out of the plane at the Dubai airport, Z and N wanted to run and explore. So you can imagine how they reacted when we tried to put the harness around them. N went into a screaming fit and Z lay down on the floor and did the whole legs raised, arms thrashing, toddler tantrum routine.  And that too outside the corridor leading to the bathrooms. As hubby dear and myself tried to calm down the twins and stuff them into the airport prams, a sea of people was going around us, probably tut-tutting. 

Tip#2: Leave your ego and your self-esteem in a water tight container at home when travelling with toddlers.

Nobody wants to be around babies in an airplane. When I didn't have kids it was a huge disappointment to find my seat next to or even near one. But I used to swallow my pain and raise the volume of the film to maximum when the child started screaming. The people around us were quite nice and nobody complained when the twins occasionally cried (which came as a huge surprise for us after the tantrum at the airport). However, there was a British Witch sitting in front of us who didn't hide her displeasure and kept giving us looks. What did we do? Gave her looks too and in my case, cursed her with abandon in Urdu.

Tip#3: Don't bother about others in the airplane if you're with toddlers who aren't even raising much of a ruckus. You won't see those people again.

How do you spend a vacation in London when you have twins in tow? Well, you just make the best of it. Don't put places like museums and theatre shows in your places-to-go and things-to-do list. Just add parks to the list and make sure you tire them out enough so that they sleep in the pram. Because that's the only time they'll willingly be in the pram! Plan your activities around their nap or at least try. We've been to London twice in the past two years so it wasn't such a disappointment for us.

Tip#4: Don't go exploring new places with toddlers. 

It sounds like a catastrophic holiday but honestly, it wasn't all doom and gloom. Yes, it was tough managing Z and N everyday. In the middle of fevers, upset tummies and tantrums, we also managed to squeeze in laughter, smiles and many hugs. It was lovely going with them to places where I had gone while pregnant. But if I had the chance to take this same trip again would I take them along?

NO.

What is your favourite building? in pictures

The National Art Gallery, London

Taliesin West, the winter home of the architect, Frank Lloyd Wright

Images by: Me

What is your favourite building?

It’s a strange question, isn’t it? One that we never really think about or actually ask people. Do you have one? Think about it. In Karachi? Or in the places you’ve visited over the past few years?

A lot of people might say Burj Khalifa because it’s the tallest building in the world and an engineering marvel. I don’t like it very much. It’s kind of scary. Whenever you look at it don't you wonder how it’s standing up? Aren't you afraid it might come crashing down on the dancing fountain? I do. 

Can the favourite buildings of a friend also become dear to you? I remember seeing the Chrysler building through the eyes of my dearest friend, Samiya. It was through the pictures of her first trip to NYC (maybe in 2002?) that I was introduced to the skyline and architecture of the city in-depth. It didn’t mean much to me then but all I thought of was her when I finally saw the Chrysler building two years back. Or the house of Frank Lloyd Wright, her favourite architect, in Arizona. 

What about buildings in other cities? Maybe the National Art Gallery? It was one of my favourite haunts in London. I loved going there again and again. Whenever I approached it I felt comfortable, as if I’ve come to a familiar place. There was this one time when I rounded the corner and came across it, completely unaware, and it brought a smile to my face. In many ways, that building was the focal point of my everyday exploration of London. 

After giving it some thought I’ll probably say one of my favourite buildings in Karachi is the Hindu Gymkhana which is now NAPA. That is where I hung out with my husband during our courtship period and it was such an important part of my life in the initial years of our marriage. 

I think Atif was right when he said that buildings by themselves don’t carry any meaning. It is only your experiences with that particular building which makes it important for you. We all admire buildings, or are disgusted by them, or just give them a passing glance as we walk or drive by them everyday. But if they are the place where we spent time with a lover, or where we saw our first Van Gogh and Monet - then they acquire a special place in our lives and I guess, become favourites. 

Note: This blogpost was inspired by a conversation with my friend Atif who told me that this is a question in the IELTS speaking test. 

Sunday ka Sizzle

"I got this from Tate Modern because it reminded me of you," said hubby dearest.

I think it was the expression. Or was it the hair?

Portrait of a Young Woman 1935 by Meredith Frampton

London musings

"Stop staring. What are you looking at? The lines on my forehead? My arched brows? My long wrinkled neck? Are you admiring my aquiline features? Look into my eyes. These eyes have seen so many like you pass me by day after day. Some of you laugh, others stare and a few take pictures. I like it, the distraction, because most of the times I'm staring at Jean Dubuffet's 'The Busy Life', which features five grotesque figures as you can see for yourself. Now you understand what I go through? Wait! Where are you going? Oh yes, stare at the 'Four Figurines on a Base', my husband's memory of a Paris brothel. I have this in my view also. And the thoughts that go in my head when I see this, you can't even imagine. Go ahead! Admire his work. Are you leaving? Already? But I have so much to tell you. Wait!"

[I visited London in 2011 and one of my favourite activity was going to the museums and making notes on how I felt when I saw a work of art that fascinated me. This was written on a trip to Tate Modern. I came across it while combing through old notebooks yesterday.]

Image: Google

The book in my suitcase

No matter how hard I try, books usually end up in my suitcase.

It's a habit I've tried to rid myself of, albeit reluctantly. For someone who carries a book in her handbag and gym bag, it's rather hard to not take a book on a holiday. In all honesty it is never 'a' book but several and often, not always, I end up reading the books I've bought during the holiday. The folly of my habit hits me when the luggage exeeds the weight limit on the return journey. I'm also not one of those who leaves her own books behind for the pleasure of other travelers. Firstly, if I take the trouble of carrying a book (or books) with me it is quite obvious that I like it/them and secondly, I don't read thrillers, vampire novels or trashy romance.

The right book in the right location is a killer combination. I read 'The End of the Affair' (Graham Greene) while on a holiday in London and being in the same city, travelling on the tube and taking the same lines as the characters made it so much more enjoyable. It's not necessary that the setting of the novel be similar to your physical environment. I was reading 'Doctor Fischer of Geneva or the Bomb Party' on a beach last year, enjoying the sun, sea and sand as one of the main characters was skiing to her death. 

Sometimes it is fun to match the book with the location and it was this thought that was dominant in my mind today as I browsed through my book shelves. 

'A Capote Reader' has found its way in my suitcase. 

I blog, therefore I am.

Three years on the blogosphere calls for some celebration so the blog gets a make-over. Yaaay! 

It’s always fun to walk down memory lane and today, I am raising a toast to all my doings on the beanbag.  Many things happened here. There were musings about teaching, a job I have temporarily called quits, of its joys and tribulations. In case you missed it, I was lucky to host a Literary New Year's Party right here and had many interesting authors as guests including Hunter S. Thompson, Virginia Woolf and even Ibsen.

One of the most interesting events on the beanbag was the 15/15/15 challenge which had me reading faster than a bullet train. There was talk about married life as Hubby dear and myself celebrated our first year of marriage (read here) and even, you won’t believe it, an alien invasion!

Although a discussion on aging is depressing, especially among the female gender, we can’t run away from the inevitable. Here are my thoughts on reaching the infamous big 0 which, honestly, comes in our life a little too quickly. Don’t you agree?

Go on a pictorial journey with me and explore a bit of Lahore. In case you haven’t found time to read it, see Hubby dear playing the cursed Oedipus Rex, in pictorial form, here.

Lastly, I leave you on the beanbag with my first impression of London and some recollections  of both Ibn-e-Insha and myself of London, here.

There are whispers of change, both on and off the beanbag, as I raise a toast of dark chocolate (since there is no Coke, zero or otherwise in the house) to three years of tales on the beanbag.

Care to join?

The new look of beanbagtales - a celebration of the old and the new. 

Photograph: Author

London Kahani

Insha's London

A basement flat in Gloucester Hotel owned by a matronly Mrs.Watson sounds an extremely scary place to live in. And that is exactly where Ibn-e-Insha stayed when he visited London in Sept 1967. I was rather lucky in terms of the location, ownership and view of the apartment where I resided. The magnificent Thames (a little tributary if truth be told) and a drawbridge greeted me each morning while poor Insha Sahib was haunted by the garbage drum and all that inhabited it, both living and otherwise.

Once I had made the all important trip to Big Ben and Trafalgar Square, I found myself on Victoria Embankment every other day. Maybe it was to say hello to poor Nelson, who stands alone while all and sundry pose with the lions. Or to lose myself in the hallways of National Art Gallery; trying to imprint the paintings on my mind or through inadequate words, in my diary.

Besides the National Art Gallery, there are a multitude of museums to explore and maybe, get bored in, especially without company. The British Museum is one such place which I, luckily, did not explore on my own. Like Ibn-e-Insha, we too made a dash for the Egyptian gallery. The whole place is death personified. There are coffins, both with and without mummies, with intricate carvings and symbols along with details of the preservation process the Egyptians used. The star of the place is an extremely well preserved mummy with nails, teeth and even hair intact (on a closer inspection one might even find mummified lice). It was a bit disturbing to see throngs of people around this nameless corpse whose soul, I’m sure, is still searching for peace, maybe within the very walls of the museum.    

Aphrodite at British Museum

Ibn-e-Insha was not duly impressed by the Egyptian artefacts, especially the agricultural tools. According to him archaeologists wasted their time digging up remains of ancient Egypt, most of the items are present and still in use above the ground in our country. I was more interested in the Greek statues, something not present in any form in Pakistan. And it is always better, both historically and optically, to look at stone sculptures of Greek Goddesses in the nude rather than a shrivelled mummy.

Loneliness never hits you as strongly as when you’re taking pictures of yourself with a self-timer. But where the camera has proved itself to be a technological wonder, it is also a nuisance at times. Unlike other picture galleries, Tate Modern does allow photography without a flash. More people, I’m sure, view the exhibits through the camera lens rather than the naked eye.

I was there one day, sitting quietly and contemplating the vivid colours of Monet’s Water – Lilies when in walked a man with a camera and a guidebook. He took one sweeping look at the room, decided Monet was a worthy keepsake, snapped a picture with his digital SLR, took out a smart phone, snapped another picture of the painting and sauntered out of the room to repeat the process. Digital age galore!

But London is in stress, not just over the Olympics but also the dwindling economy. It seems that the case was no different in 1967. Like Ibn-e-Insha I, too, contributed to the economy of Britain by making a fairly large number of purchases. As Insha Sahib said in his book, we have old historical, political and cultural links with England. If we don’t help them in times of need, who will?

P.S: Though I saw theatre plays also, Insha Sahib was lucky enough to see the great Laurence Olivier play Edgar in Strindberg’s, The Dance of Death, at the Old Vic. According to Insha Sahib, Olivier’s acting was a marvel. 

Note: The sketch and all references to Ibn-e-Insha are from his book, Awara Gard ki Diary (Travelogue) 

London, Aadab!

London is an interesting place, to say the least. It has a nice vibe to it. Some cities have this sort of vibe. Karachi has one. Like London, it is a city which accepts you. It’s a feeling akin to settling down in a beanbag; it adjusts to you. Karachi is like that and so is London.

The past two days (I landed on Friday night) have consisted, mostly, of a crash course in underground routes. The first time I looked at the map it appeared exactly what it is in the picture; a lot of jumbled up lines. Or is it my destiny hidden among the seemingly mundane routes of the underground? Surreal.

London’s been kind to me in terms of weather. Sunshine has greeted me each morning (okay, only two mornings so far but that’s good too!) and the forecast for this week looks promising. If it rains I might get really homesick because it is sunny in Karachi (and hot too!).  But like hubby dear says, don’t let the weather be a deterrent to your plans, or something to that effect. I’ll try and adopt his philosophy but it’s difficult to look at the bright side of things when dark clouds are looming.

Reading English literature has its advantages. You recognize places from descriptions in books. Selfridges’s reminded me of An Equal Music, a book I love to bits. For some minutes I stood in front of the store, trying to recreate the scene when Michael spots Julia while both of them are sitting on opposite buses. And somehow, while standing there, I was able to actually feel Michael’s frustration, more so because hubby dear is in Karachi and I love him to bits too!

There are no more pigeons in Trafalgar Square. In fact, I saw more pigeons at Marble Arch than at Trafalgar Square. Talk about disappointments. All my life I have seen pictures of relatives and friends covered with pigeons (and probably pigeon poop!) and I was denied this experience. St.Paul’s Cathedral lived upto my expectations and after seeing it I can totally imagine its importance for the British people during World War II.

There’s so much to do in these two months. This trip is not just about discovering London but also about rediscovering myself. Unfortunately there are no route maps for the latter.

And I don’t know why they have the nursery rhyme about London Bridge. It’s so not worth it!

London Underground:Google Images