On the Road Again

Bright and early tomorrow the five of us head off to Heathrow and hop a jet back to Chicago. The kids are so excited to see their family and friends. Not having been home since August, we all have a bit of homesickness. London is so fricking cold and gray that it's time to go elsewhere. Thankfully, a week in Arizona follows our Chicago stay so we plan to soak up as many rays as possible. This London winter is just getting started....

I was just getting some momentum (again) on the blog, so promises (again) that I'll keep my stride when I'm back in the saddle in January. To all of our friends and family, a happy healthy new year! 2008's been a crazy year for a lot of reasons so we're looking forward to even better things to come in 2009.

Clifford's Tower

One of our little adventures in York. The earth mound on which Clifford's Tower sits was first contructed by William the Conquerer in 1068 as part of the first castle of York. Normans, Danes, English, and others all fought over this spot. While I can't recall who Clifford was, I do recall that the Portnoys had a fun time climbing to the top and getting great views of the surrounding town, whose endless red rooftops reminded me (and my Dad) of the aerial scene from Willie Wonka when Charlie was in the glass elevator. The red building in the foreground is a newly built Hilton, so that does throw a bit of wet blanket on one's imagination. And speaking of party poopers (depending on your perspective), it was interesting to see that Clifford's Tower is apparently northern England's answer to Masada, since in 1190 the local Jews holed up in the fort to escape attacks, only to commit mass suicide as their deaths at the hands of the townfolks became imminent. Lovely.

Daddy Donkey

Finding a good burrito in London is about as easy these days as securing a jumbo mortgage. Alas, our colleague Heather, who is visiting from Chicago for a couple weeks, alerted us to a place in Holborn called, of all things, Daddy Donkey, self described as a "kick ass Mexican grill." Indeed! Even better, it's not even a restaurant but an aluminum-sided food cart. Tucked away on Leather Lane (what a name) amidst dozens of stalls selling everything from tube socks to curry, the Donkey showed a little swagger by actually putting a switchback rope line in front to manage the crowd flow. We ate early (what else is new) at one of the outside card tables they had graciously provided (it was ~ 35 degrees today), but by the time I was picking the last remnants of chorizo and rice out of the tin foil wrapper, the queue had formed. Americans plumped from a recent Chipotle experience probably wouldn't think much of our new find, but by London standards this was excellent. Heather...what's next?

Happy Christmas.

No messing around with political correctness here in jolly ol' England. Happy holidays? Of course not as "holiday" here is our word for "vacation". So no point in wishing perfect strangers a nice vacation. (And they say Happy, not Merry.) Something refreshing about the lack of inclusion in these salutations, notwithstanding one's status in the sect....

Merry vacation!

More of the Kids

Daddy & Daughter

There are early indications that Sarah might become a bit of a Daddy's Girl, which I'm strongly trying to encourage.

Puttin' on the Ritz

I couldn't help but think about the Beverly Hillbillies as Zachy and I showed up for what had to have been the nicest (and most expensive) holiday party the Portnoys have ever attended. The family of one of Ben's classmates at ASL throws an annual bash at the Ritz, where they rent out an entire wing and shower friends - and evidently complete strangers - with food, entertainment, and gifts. This family of Indian moguls (or are they tycoons? what's the difference?) invited all three kindergarten classes plus many others so there must have been 100+ families there.

Tracy and Ben had a birthday party to attend first so Zach and I went early. Under the best of circumstances Zach doesn't stay tucked in and this day let's just say his tan trousers weren't spared his latest (inaccurate) attempt at peeing in the potty. Meanwhile, Daddy Pig was just about the only guy without a blazer (or suit!) though thankfully I had the sense to not wear jeans to the fete. They had two face painters, a balloon maker, and three (count them, three) magicians for the kids. Zach is surprisingly shy when Ben's not around and instead of enjoying any of these activities he tried to nap in the middle of floor, where he was almost trampled by tuxedoed waiters serving truffled scrambled eggs in shot glasses, smoked salmon balls, and mini chicken legs with those little white gloves on the tip of the bone. I love my son and I love creative appetizers. The devil's pitchfork, indeed.

After checking out the massive holiday cake (second picture), Zachy and I soon found ourselves at our own table with one of those tiered silver serving contraptions with more cakes and finger sandwiches. He was a happy boy. Tracy finally showed up and was equally agape at the splendor. After socializing for a while, we made our way out, but not before we were given five (count them, five) gifts for the boys. Each was a good sized box or package and in aggregate weighed us down, making the lack of taxis that much more frustrating. The Tube it was for us and the Herbs, our friends/neighbors who were also at the party, with many boxes and children in tow. Clearly their son Andrew gave the whole experience a big thumbs up and, not surprisingly, Zach approached it all with his typical zeal.

Carnaby Street

Carnaby Street, on the western edge of the Soho neighborhood, was the epicenter of the British Mod movement, most popularized in recent times of course by Mike Myers' Austin Powers movies. Well, 40 years hence, the bellbottoms and shaggy hairdos are gone (er...maybe not), but pedestrian-only Carnaby Street is still popping with hip designers and chic eateries. The whole Soho and Covent Garden areas are a lot of fun to stroll, shop, eat, and people watch. Groovy baby!

York Train Station Facing North

(Old) York

York? Who knew? Certainly not me. When Tracy originally proposed the idea of doing a citybreak there, I pooh-poohed it on the grounds that I hadn't heard of anyone else going there. Boy was I wrong. What a lovely little town that was perfect for a short weekend getaway with Pop-Pop and JoJo. It's pretty far north in England, about half way between London and Edinburgh, so an easy two hour train ride from King's Cross.

York is an old Viking town (original name Jorvik) founded somwhere around the end of the first millennium. A few centuries on it took on all the trappings of a classic medieval town with its narrow and winding cobblestone streets. That old section of York today is a pedestrian area that preserves some of that charm, including Brambles Street (second picture) with its slanted building, antique shops, and the area's oldest pub opened in 1644. The massive stone church (last picture) still rises above the town as it did centuries ago.

It was a frigid cold weekend but bundled up we managed to traverse much of the city. We visited the Viking Museum (of course), where our begoggled kids got to play mini-archaelogists for bit. We spent a lot of time at the National Railway Museum, where kids of all ages can climb up and around a seemingl endless exhibit of trains old and new. By pure coincidence, this particular weekend was York's big winter festival and the streets were teeming with people. There were exhibits, rides, and food booths a plenty. Being in the heart of Yorkshire, I suppose we could chased down some of its namesake pudding, but failed to do so. (No terriers either, sorry.)

Tracy picked the hotel just next to the train station, which was a perfect logistical choice plus had a swimming pool for the boys to take an afternoon plunge. With the weather and lots of little people in tow, dinner could have been a challenge but we got lucky with Del Rio - where we ate both nights. A few blocks from the hotel, it was an Italian joint broken into cozy grottos where friendly servers offered a solid menu of pastas, fishes, meats, you name it.

So bully for York. It's not so nice they had to name it twice, but it's still our kind of town. Check it out.

Thanksgiving

We had a lovely Thanksgiving with our friends Jim and Ali Hall. (Their daughter's name is Anna and I never cease to get joy out of calling her Annie Hall.) Thanksgiving is a proper American holiday which Brits don't seem to get, or at least most seem to have forgotten the premise is that we were barrel assing our way out of these parts some centuries ago. So maybe it's a thumb to the nose that we flaunt our celebration here in the metropole. My Dad and JoAnn were in town with us for a couple weeks and it was really nice for us to be able celebrate with them as well. Buying a turkey here involves plucking, brining, and foregoing about a week's pay, so chicken it was with all the fixings. The food was great, the wine was flowing (thanks Jim!), and the not-freezing night allowed for extended celebrations in the garden. Makes me think that the summer patio party we had with Ali in attendance was not accidentally fabulous. The Halls are actually moving back to the US in a few weeks and we will surely miss them.

Mumbai

Just a quick note to express my disgust over the the recent attacks. As I chronicled here last January, I had one minor excursion to India. As might have come across from that post, I was overwhelmed by its magnitude and promise. Not that it should make a difference, but to me it made these attacks that much more demoralizing and horrific.

During that trip I stayed at the Oberoi, one of the two hotels that were seiged by the terrorists. Plus I had ventured over to check out the Taj and the Gateway of India (you'll see the Taj in the background of one of that post's photos). So as I followed the news over that long weekend I was somewhat able to picture in my mind's eye where much of the violence was taking place. Far more harrowing than my own imaginings was one particular recounting by an American fund manager who happened to be at the Taj for dinner during the assault. He and his wife barely escaped. No matter how many times I read it I still get shivers up my spine, especially as the two of them separate to increase the odds that their children will have at least one parent alive. It's not a choice that any of us should have to make. This world is so f*cked up at times.

An Easy Weekend

Tracy and I are just wrapping up an easy weekend with the kids. London has been cold and blustery the past few days and we definitely kept it in low gear most of the time.

I just returned from Tokyo on Thursday night and despite my claims over rarely getting jet lag, on this occasion I was pretty knackered. No pics or anything from the Far East but I'll say (for now without further elaboration) that this trip might have finally been the one where I began to "get" that city. There's a feel and rhythm to that's hard to explain but once it begins to click, you do have a bit of an "aha" moment and see why certain people think that town is truly remarkable.

In any case, Friday was just a catch-up day at the office and it's great that our colleague/friend Lee is in from Chicago for a couple weeks. After the whistle blew, we grabbed a couple pints at the Punchbowl, the semi-famous Mayfair pub co-owned by Madge and Guy Ritchie. No sighting of either; supposedly it's going to be his in the divorce proceedings.

The kids were a blast this weekend, starting with the heartwarming site of all three of them literally jumping up and down and screaming Daddy! when I walked through the door Thursday evening. Seeing that little Sarah trying to catch some air with her brothers and then run into my arms is just awesome. Our traditional Shabbat dinner on Friday, strolling Soho and Covent Garden on Saturday (including a stop at the London Transport Museum, which I'd highly recommend to families with small kids), and the kickboxing routine on Sunday. All easy, all enjoyable.

Asian markets open in a few hours, so almost time to strap on the seat belt and see what ride we take this week. At least it ain't dull.

Free at Last

Just a quick note to express our overwhelming joy over the election of Barack Obama to be the next President of the United States. Tracy and I have been more or less obsessed with the electoral process over the last year. It wasn't as easy to follow everything from London, but especially via the internet we voraciously read as much as possible. It was also nice finding many like-minded expats here in town. Because we have the Vonage line that basically gives us a Chicago phone number here in London, Tracy was actually able to volunteer to make calls to get out the vote, which was so cool.

If you are a true patriot, if you love America both for what it is and what it could be, then you must see Tuesday November 4th 2008 as a monumental day in our history, even if you vehemently disagree with Obama's policies. As Paul Krugman wrote in the New York Times yesterday, "If the election of our first African-American president didn’t stir you, if it didn’t leave you teary-eyed and proud of your country, there’s something wrong with you." The reality that a black man can be elected President reinforces the core of the American Ideal and makes me love her that much more. America is the greatest social and political experiment in the history of mankind and Tuesday's result affirms its promise perhaps like never before. In Obama's own words:

"And to all those who wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright: tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of ideals - democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope. That's the true genius of America, that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow."

Along more partisan lines, what an impressive candidate, what an impressive man. He's so easy, so calm, so focused. The dignity with which he carried himself through this campain, toxic as his rivals made it at times, was something to behold. To make barely a misstep in two grueling years is just remarkable. His ability to demonstrate humility while still expressing the ferocity of his conviction is motivation to become our better selves. His acceptance speech in Grant Park conveyed that spirit and will long be a touchstone moment on our path to becoming a better nation. Yes we can.

The Obama administration has a total mess on its hands. The likelihood that they can satisfactorily solve each of our myriad economic, military, environmental and social problems is slim. Maybe it will be one term and out. We'll see. But I couldn't be more thirlled that President Obama will be our steward through this fight. For some of us, the past 8 years have been tortuous as the American Ideal has been under assault. Thankfully, that period is almost behind us and there is some solace, hollow though it might be, that history will not treat the outgoing adminstration kindly. Looking forward, we now have the chance to rebuild our broken polity and recapture our rightful place as a beacon of hope to other nations. We are indeed free at last.

Rothko or Bust

Cold and miserable was the weather today in London and had I not already bought tickets to the Rothko exhibit at the Tate Modern we would've surely stayed in our jammies all day. Alas, sunk costs trumped reason. Our prefered Tube line wasn't working today so pricey black cabs were en vogue as we shuttled all the way over to Southwark. Worth it? Probably yes. Rothko's one of my favorites and both Tracy and Ben enjoyed it, too. We rented the audio guides which helped navigate the big show, plus Ben liked playing with this gadget. The exhibition was geared toward Rothko's later work in the 1960s, which is subtly but notably different than the big tri-colors for which he's best known. You'd have thought from the audioguide that the shift was so profound that he had moved into photography or something. But curators have to write about something, I suppose.

The kids like the Tate Modern but were disappointing to see that the massive (and planned) crack in the ground floor concrete had been "repaired." The temporary installation there now is quite silly really - a field of yellow and blue bunk beds, a massive (like, 50-feet tall massive) spider, an oversized apple core, and some black-and-white film on a screen in the corner. None of us found it interesting in the slightest. Ben did remember the scavenger hunt we had done on previous trips, but all of the kits had been rented out, so we just strolled through the permanent collection. Unbelievably, he pointed out which of the galleries had majorly changed their displays. Clealry someone was paying attention last time. We did have a nice little conversation about Jackson Pollack's splatter painting style, which Ben thought pretty cool and judged better than the massive Monet water lilly painting on the opposite wall. Not sure if I'd agree on that one, but love that the kid is into it.

Halloween 2

Unlike last year, we got the St. John's Wood Halloween one-two punch: the big costume parade at the American School during the day and then no-holds barred trick-or-treating in the 'hood at night. There was a huge assembly at ASL, with hundreds of kids from the lower school participating, including Ben. Afterwards, it was off the races to collect as many sweets as possible. Mission accomplished.

Happy Birthday Benji!

The big party for #1's #6 was last weekend, but on October 30th Ben was still able to celebrate at school with his friends (including his new good buddy, Lawrence) and at home. As has been the case in other at-home birthdays, Mom and Dad really splurged - in this case by sticking a "6" candle (reused from Saturday no less) in a brownie (home made!) in a plastic bowl. One particularly enthusiastic cheerleader had no qualms about the celebration.

American Convenience

What a brilliant little snapshot in today's online New York Times. It's an early polling site in the middle of a Las Vegas convenience store with stacks of junk food on one side of the the voting "booths" and a row of video poker machines on the other. A juxtaposition of many things Americana. I gather from the story that millions are already taking advantage of early voting in California, Illinois, Nevada, Arizona, and so forth. It certainly feels like the electorate understands that this time around, one's vote really matters. (And if you're wondering, Tracy and I sent in our absentee ballots about a month ago.)

Family of the Week

The Portnoys are "Family of the Week" at Ben's class. This morning, Ben introduced the other four Portnoys to his classmates and then told everyone about the collage of photos we put together displaying all of the extended family as well as some snaps of some of our travels. Ben did a wonderful job telling lots of little stories about people and places. Way to go, kiddo!

Brick Lane

We had a super time last night with our new friends, Jenny and Brian. They're from Chicago and live directly across the street from us on Hamilton Terrace. Their older son, Brooks, is in the same grade at ASL as Ben (the second picture from the birthday party post is Ben and Brooks).

Last night the four of us decided to go on a little adventure to London's East End, seeking a good curry house on Brick Lane. This destination, as one might surmise, was home to London's brick manufacturers many moons ago (16th century I believe), but the neighborhood has now become home to a large percentage of the city's Bengali population with the restaurant scene to match. It's also now an edgy, artistic enclave with lots of hip pubs, clothing and music stores. For you Chicagoans, imagine Wicker Park meets Devon Street. The history of this part of the city is actually quite fascinating and as we explore more we'll figure out more of the narrative. (When Rob & Marianne were in town last year, we took a walking tour of Old Jewish London and it, too, intersected with Brick Lane, Spitalfields, etc.)

The toughest decision of the evening was deciding where to eat, not made easier by each restaurant having someone outside trying to steer you in their door with the promise of free booze and cheap eats. Our tactic was choosing the restaurant that looked the busiest and we were further comforted, ironically, that the winner offered no "teaser" rates on their food. Mahib Indian Cuisine was jam-packed and the food was outstanding. Was it the best Brick Lane offers? Who knows. I'm guessing they're all pretty much the same. We let the waiter suggest what he thinks MIC does best and we were not disappointed. Countless cold Kingfishers lubricated the evening regardless.

We capped off the night with some drinks at the Ten Bells, a pub that first opened in 1753. Fast forward 355 years, it's now a total hipster bar. The less cool four grown-ups-with-children-and-babysitters didn't care and dove into the pack. When offered a choice between a jug of Pimm's and a nice glass of mind-altering absinthe, Brian said "yes." Just kidding (though the picture belies that). The only open question from the evening remained: Which neighborhood next....