High Sierra Backpacking

My husband and I used to backpack before the kids were born, but since they came around we’ve only gone car camping. During our London trip this summer we realized that our youngest can walk up to ten miles a day, and decided that the time was finally ripe to attempt our first-ever all-family backpacking trip.

So a couple of weekends ago we packed our sleeping bags, tents and bear canister, and, after about a decade of absence, headed to Yosemite National Park. We originally intended to try a four-mile trail, but since permits for that ran out, we had to change our plans and commit to a six-mile hike.

Six miles don’t sound like a lot, but walking around London is quite different than walking up and down mountains with a heavy load on your back. So we gave the boy a symbolic pack (containing a Platypus full of water and a snack), and hoped for the best.

We all thought our youngest will be the weak link in the group, but about a hundred steps into the trail I was stunned to realize that I could barely walk. My heart was threatening to explode, my legs were crumbling, and the backpack felt like a crushing load. My husband came to the rescue, relieving me of half the burden. This helped, somewhat, but I still found it difficult to move even on a relatively flat surface.

For the rest of the day I trailed behind my family, eyes fixed firmly to the ground, concentrating on the next step. At every break I collapsed to the dirt, enduring pitiful looks from my children. I dragged my feet for the duration of the hike, overridden with guilt and self loathing. Three years of twice-or-thrice-weekly gym visits were obviously useless. Tracking about London seems to have done me no good, either.

When we finally arrived at our destination I let the others put the tents up and cook. I myself crawled into a tent and lay motionless for quite some time, determined to never, EVER, do this again. Yet, when I got called for dinner I had to reluctantly admit that the view was quite stunning, and that MAYBE backpacking had its advantages. This is what sunset looked like from our campsite, courtesy of my husband:

After dinner the headache that accompanied me all day got worse, and only then did I suddenly remembered: I ALWAYS have trouble at high elevation! I haven’t been to Yosemite in over a decade, and forgot the nasty tricks that altitude can play on one’s body...

The next day everything seemed better. My headache was gone and I was able to look about and enjoy the glorious beauty around me. The magnificent, panoramic views:

As well as the beauty of the little things, once you take notice and look up close.

The patterns that cracks etch on the earth:

The varied, strong textures of rocks, bark and roots:

And the beautiful, colorful paintings of nature:

Walking back, even on the long, uphill parts, wasn’t a problem. I was able to enjoy the fresh air, the wind on my face, the feeling of warm sun on my skin. As I feasted my eyes on nature I was deeply grateful for the amazing gift of National Parks, a true treasure currently celebrating one hundred years of existence. I relished the occasional conversation with passing-by, seasonal hikers, some many years my seniors, and, most of all, I was relieved to realize that I wasn’t that out-of-shape after all.

Overall I enjoyed the experience, and was proud of my children, especially the youngest of the three, for bearing on without complaints. And yes, I will consider trying this again next year, though I will need to make a note to myself to drive up a day early, to give my body a chance to get used to the elevation.

Post-Summer Blues

Summer is over. The days are becoming shorter, sunlight is getting yellower, and the shadows are beginning to stretch. A few trees in my yard are showing reddish tints, and I seem to be reaching for a jacket more often. I like the ambiance of early fall, yet I am finding myself these days feeling rather sad. My kids, you see, are all back to school.

The first time this happened was when my eldest daughter started going to preschool. And it has been happening persistently every year since. For years I’ve been spending summers with my kids, being with them all day, every day, for almost three months at a time. Some vacation days have been interesting, exciting and fun, while others can be long and boring. But hanging out together is usually nice, except for those days--mostly towards the end of the vacation--when the kids just can’t stop fighting with each other. On such days they drive me absolutely nuts, and I find myself wishing for school to just start, so that I could finally enjoy some peace and quiet and have the house back to myself.

But when the school-year actually does begin, as it inevitably does, the house suddenly feels awfully quiet…

I did many things this past summer, but sewing wasn’t one of them. I’ve been missing it quite a bit. I got lots of new ideas while traveling, and have been eager to get back to my fabrics and start experimenting. However, now that I finally CAN sew again, I find it very difficult to concentrate. I turn my machine on only to realize, half an hour later, that I haven’t sewn a stitch. Or I start one thing only to stop and go do something else. I miss the kids, with their noise, company, constant demands, and yes--even their squabbles…

So I’m trying to start small, with simple projects to get me back into a sewing mind-set. I made a couple of book marks, a zip pouch or two, and even managed a cross-body sling. And for over a week I’ve been working on a bunch of journal covers that I am slowly starting to finish and put up in my Etsy store. I hope to get back into routine quickly, so that I could soon progress to the more complicated, demanding and interesting projects.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

We arrived in London a couple of weeks before the official opening night of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, the new play by Jack Thorne, and a few weeks after previews of the show started opening to the public. This original story, written in collaboration with J.K. Rowling and John Tiffany, is the eighth installment of the Harry Potter series. It takes place nineteen years after the events described in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and is the only story in the series written particularly for a stage.

As Potter fans, my daughters heard a lot about this play long before we decided to go to London. They followed news articles that discussed it, knew all about the main-character castings and controversy, and were very curious about the story line. Of course, once they knew we will actually be in London they begged to go watch it, but when we looked into it we discovered that tickets, even for the pre-opening rehearsal stage, were sold out months in advance.

As it happened, the place we stayed at turned out to be only a couple of blocks away from the Palace Theater, where the Potter play was showing. And so, as we toured the city, we passed by it almost every day, sometimes more than once. And every day our girls asked to go.

We found out that there were two far-fetched ways to get tickets to this popular show. The first was through the Friday Forty, an online lottery that takes place every Friday at 1:00 pm, in which forty tickets are released for the following week. The second was by going to the ticket office and waiting in line to see if any tickets become available for that evening’s show, through returns or cancellations.

Well, we didn’t win the lottery despite spending our first Friday afternoon glued to a screen. And when my husband and daughters suggested going to the theater to stand in line the following week, I really thought they were crazy. I told them that there was no way they would get tickets, for who in their right mind would give up tickets to this show? I said it would be a waste of a precious day, in which we could continue touring the riches of London. And I suggested that they should be content with visiting the Studios, and shouldn’t be greedy. I absolutely refused to stand in line for hours, in vain, on the cold, dreary street. But they insisted, and were willing to wait all day long if needed. So my son and I left them standing in line, and went back to our apartment, expecting to pass the entire afternoon pursuing quiet activities.

To my utter surprise they texted an hour later: not only were they able to get tickets, but they were able to get them for the entire family. And not only did they get five tickets, but four of them were for the best seats in the house, at the center of one of the very front rows. The fifth was further out, but still on the first floor. WHAT?!?!?!?!

The girls were in heaven! That afternoon our apartment was filled with wild cries of happiness, ecstatic dances and earnest preparations, as we all attired our nicest travel clothes and got ready for theater (alas, we each had only one pair of well-worn sneakers).

We arrived at the theater more than an hour early, only to find a LONG line of people already snaking around the building, filling the entire block:

The palace Theater, which opened as an opera house in 1891, and which hosted an array of famous musical since, is a gilded, majestic building, an appropriate setting for the Potter play:

The play comes in two parts, on two consecutive nights. Since the script was not yet released when we watched it, we all got pins after the first part ended, asking us to “Keep the Secrets.”

We have never been to a two-part play before, and we absolutely loved it! After the first night our seats already felt like home. We all thought we could easily get used to this and just keep coming, night after night.

Since the script has since been published to great fanfare and is available for all to read, I will not write about the story itself. I personally wasn’t wowed by the story, and thought it didn’t have a lot of new content. But the play was absolutely AMAZING! The acting was superb even in that rehearsal performance, the character casting didn't bother me at the least, and the special effects were really awesome! Favorite spells like Polyjuice transformations and even flying were done in a wonderfully-convincing way. The magic felt very real, even up close.

For my daughters this was the second highlight of our trip, and it ranked pretty high on my list, too. So, if you plan to head over to London any time soon, I would strongly recommend not reading the script and seeing the play instead. It’s worth it!

The Making of Harry Potter

Our Harry Potter London trip would not have been completed without a visit to The Making of Harry Potter, the self-guided tour at the Warner Bros. Studios in Watford. We booked the tickets for this tour several months before we went, immediately after booking the flight. For my kids this was hands down one of the two highlights of our summer trip (more on the second in a future post).

 

We spent an entire day at the Studios admiring sets, props, costumes and everything else associated with the making of the movies. Indeed, there was much to admire! The level of creativity, imagination, talent and professionalism involved was truly mind-blowing. J.K. Rowling created a magical world through words (and became vastly famous for it), but translating this world into genuine-looking places and objects required immensely hard work by hundreds of equally-talented (yet mostly anonymous) people. Meticulous attention to detail was evident everywhere, from the building of large sets to the design of the smallest prop. Everything was exceptionally well done, and convincingly real-looking, even from up close.

 

The first part of the tour took us through some of the filming sets, both big and small. This, for example, is the tiny set of Harry’s room under the staircase, located right at the entrance to the Studios. It looked as if Harry was about to return at any moment:

 

 

And here is the Great Hall of Hogwarts, which looked and FELT like a magical, medieval, solid-stone structure:

 

 

Only to be revealed as a thin plaster facade from the back:

 

 

The homes, dormitories and classrooms that appear in the movies looked amazingly realistic and lived-in. This, for example, is Snape’s Potions classroom:

 

 

One of my favorite sets was Diagon Alley, which was built for the first movie and then used for all eight. It was exactly the kind of authentic-feeling, old-world street I try (and often fail) to find in my travels, the kind of place I fantasize about. I would have loved to visit some of the stores on this alley (and linger for a long while at a magical fabrics store, had there only been one!):

 

 

 

 

Even props that were used only once were made to perfection. Here is an appetizing dessert table, looking convincingly chocolaty, but obviously made of something else:

 

 

And some of Prof. Umbridge’s outfits, sewn from deliciously-textured PINK fabrics:

 

 

The Black Family Tapestry was a true work of art, surpassing real medieval tapestries I’ve seen in museums. We were told that this was originally supposed to appear on one wall only, but that once the graphic designers were done with it the directors decided to dedicate an entire room to this masterpiece:

 

 

The tour went through a restaurant, where we tasted butterbeer, and through a courtyard that hosted the magical sleeper bus and Hagrid's motorcycle, among other things. For the second part it took us behind the scenes, offering a glimpse into the thousands of hours put in by the army of super-talented people who made the movies what they are. There were painters who imagined what each character looked like:

 

 

Sculptors and others who made the masks for special characters, in this case the goblins:

 

Technicians and robotics experts who made costumes come to life:

 

 

There were architects who designed the sets:

 

 

And people who built the models:

 

 

Each and every professional and artist involved, no matter their field, earned my utter respect.

 

The tour ended in the gift shop, where artists of a different kind performed a different kind of magic:

 

We left the Studios with full hearts, full bags and empty wallets.

Everything Harry Potter

The reason we ended up in London this summer was my daughters’ passion for anything Harry Potter. Over the years the two of them read and re-read the books many times, and watched all the movies repeatedly. For several years on Halloween they dressed as characters from the series, first as “good” characters such as Hermione, then, as they entered their teens, as wicked, goth-looking Death Eaters. A few years ago they forced us to visit Disney World, where we spent a couple of LONG days pacing up and down Diagon Alley. We were coerced into standing FIVE TIMES in the exceedingly long lines leading to Olivander’s Wand Shop, where my children hoped to be chosen by a wand. Little scientists as they were, they soon realized that the wands seemed to have a pattern: they always picked kids from a specific part of the store, one time a boy, the next a girl. And so, on the fifth attempt, my girls managed to squeeze right into that golden spot. Lo and behold, viola! -- a wand picked one of them! A rather expensive one at that, as we later learned at the checkout counter...

This year, after much begging, the kids finally got their way, and we all made a pilgrimage to the Mecca of Pottermanina. Fresh off the plane, exhausted from a long flight and completely jet lagged, we had to hike all the way to King’s Cross Station to look for Platform 9 3/4. Those of us who were concerned it’ll be hard to spot soon realized there was nothing to worry about: There it was, right next to the Potter gift shop, at the end of a super-long line of giddy tourists. There were actually two or three 9 ¾ platforms, one next to the other, each with it’s own line and half a shopping cart (the other half supposedly disappearing into the wall), flashed again and again by professional and amature photographers alike.

The next day we went to Leadenhall Market, where Hogs Head was filmed:

And then we crossed Millennium Bridge, which was “destroyed” by Death Eaters in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince:

When we went to the London Zoo a few days later our very first stop was naturally the reptile exhibition:

Even our only day-trip outside the city was touched by the Potter obsession. Between visiting Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral we squeezed in a quick visit to Lacock Village, a picturesque, beautifully-preserved medieval hamlet. Established in 1232 and continuously lived in, the village is a true gem of authenticity of the kind I find really exciting. It is now owned by the National Trust, and its existing houses date from the 18th century or earlier. Walking around town truly feels like going back in time:

The village, not surprisingly, appeared in several movies, but to my kids only the Potter movies mattered, and only one house was worth a thorough look: the house that was filmed for the Philosopher's Stone as the outside of the Potter home at Godric’s Hollow:

Sadly, we couldn't visit Lacock Abbey, another Potter shooting location, for it was closed when we arrived.

Of course a Potter trip could not be complete without a day at the Warner Bros. Studios. But that, I think, is worth its own post.

Inspiration: London!

This summer my family and I traveled to London, where we spent two incredible weeks touring the city. We went to most of the major tourist destinations, as well as to some minor ones. We tasted food from around the world, had tea at Harrods, saw two amazing shows, visited LOTS of museums, and learned some history. We took double-decker buses as well as the Tube, but mostly we walked anywhere we could, between seven to ten miles on an average day!

London was vibrant, lively and exciting. The days were very long (it was already bright at 4:00 am, and there was still some light at 10:00 pm). The weather, as expected, was mostly chilly and gray, spiced by some drizzle or rain every now and then. Yet the streets were always packed, even late at night. Food, music and ART pulsed throughout the city.

As a historian, I loved the layers of the past peeking from every corner. As an artists, I enjoyed seeing the great variety of art that is woven into this great metropolis: old and new architecture, Gothic and modern sculpture, official public art next to street art, and, of course, the vast riches of art collected from all over the world and from different eras, displayed at the many museums that dot the city, free of charge for all to see.

Here is an example of how old and new merge flawlessly to make the urban landscape:

And these are modern sculptures, segments from a series, looking very much in place at the Tower of London:

This three-dimensional drawing stood at the financial district:

And in a side alley somewhere I spotted a waitress painting on a window:

The art displayed in the museums was a humbling testament to the great things humanity can achieve. It was quite exciting to stand in front of world-class creations, both ancient and modern, which I knew well from art history lessons. Here are but a couple of examples from the British Museum:

I found being immersed in this art-infused environment very invigorating. Creativity, it turns out, is catching.