Borough Market, London

Sunday, February 24, 2008

I must have snored quite a bit last night. I was sorry for my six roommates, three of which I had warned about the snoring. I am so self-conscious about it! Two pairs of earplugs that I left on top of the mirror were gone by morning… At least two of them slept well, I believe!

At any rate, yesterday, Saturday, I walked around the beautiful large market right in front of the hostel, Borough Market. Being Saturday, the market was booming with crowds and vendors of all sorts. I took my camera to delight in the unique scenes my eyes happened to fall upon. (It takes too long to upload the pictures to the blog, so I am sorry for the absence of images…)

Of course there were all manner of foodstuffs, starting with vegetables. We are talking all manner of vegetables, the ones green being really green, and the reds, well, red, and so on, with picture-like vegetables to completely delight the most respectable vegetarian: cabbages (for some reason cabbages come first when in England), carrots, potatoes, Swiss chard, beans… It could have been summer by this market’s standards. These veggies did not look imported either. Yes, there were flowers on the ground and on trees, even though this is the end of February… Something’s wrong with the weather, for sure, it is too early for Spring but Spring is here in Southwark, London, and certainly it is here in this market.

Fruits of all manner. In flesh and dried. Dried nuts, mountains of them. I tried some apple chutney—no doubt I have never thought of this simple, down to home thing, apple chutney! I talked with the chap offering chutney to the pleased crowds on pieces of dry toast. He said that England is losing its orchards because supermarkets only want perfect apples to sell. Orchards with less than perfect apples get closed off the market. This man is creating value for the crooked apple, the apple with scars, the ones with imperfect curves, waists even, those that are not correctly heart-shaped apples with no bruises. He chops them and mixes them with spices and nuts. I tried the apples and cumin recipe—delicious (perhaps the chap had a neighbor from India, or just a taste for Indian food…) India saves British orchards! Whatever… apples and spices, like mango and spices, the traditional recipes for chutney now. I thought, “Oh, Northern NY produces apples… maybe we too can market our excluded apples into savory chutneys…”

And then there were cheeses… Big round wheels of all manner of cheesy cheeses! And soft cheeses as well. Sorry. I do not remember their names, just the tastes of the three I tried, praying for cholesterol forgiveness. It was such a feast of cheeses. And then fish—fleshy fried things ready to be eaten with chips. Meats in abundance too, particularly processed into sausages, loaves, and links. I took a picture of three dead small animals, a small deer and two rabbits, hanging just like in old European drawings and paintings… Weird and offensive but authentic in this market.

The most interesting part was the people, though, from all walks of life, individuals, couples and families with babies and children, white and of color, buying stuff and, more so, EATING stuff. There were many stands and restaurants around the market. Everywhere people were eating everything imaginable. Chomp! Chomp! Chomp! There goes the ten inch long sausage sandwiches… and the fried fish with chips… It was a feast! Next to the market there was the Wineland, an old building turned into wine cellars and stores and places for wine tasting. No, I did not go in there… No time, otherwise I would have missed everything else outside.

I ended my visit to the market by just walking away toward the Southwark Cathedral—complete with a chapel for the founder of Harvard University who was baptized there. I took my power nap in that chapel after prayers…I was still carrying my backpack with wheels so that I had to be extra careful with not rolling it over the many graves on the floor of the cathedral… I was proud of my caring for the ancient dead, most of them distinguished males, sometimes their wives…

Then I walked in the direction of the Shakespeare Globe Theater and checked the beautiful iron gate with so many decorations, falling in love with each one of them, the mouse eating cheese, the mask of a monkey, flowers, the owl, of course, one of my favorites. I love iron gates… What dreams of representations of things that are part of the lives of humans! I did not get into the theater, though. I am controlling my money for now, maybe another time I will go to a play and will get the whole experience.

I was getting tired and time was coming to check in at the hostel. I went onto the London Bridge—yes, it was rebuilt recently because as we all know it was falling down… I took a long look at the Thames, at the fancy tall skyscrapers all around, as well as a good look at Saint Paul’s Cathedral on the other side, near to where I was standing, and I planned to go to services the next day. It made sense. I went to mass at Notre Dame once. Service at Saint Paul’s to follow.

Checked in with my heavy suitcases to the third floor of the Saint Christopher hostel for the young of age and of the heart… Slept my jet lag away and went to dinner at a respectful Indian restaurant across the road. Back to the room later for some syrah and to sleep among college students and recent grads…

To be slowly continued, without continuity.