In Which We Travel to Utrecht

One of the best things about Schiphol Airport is that it has its own train station – not just a direct route into the city like London’s Heathrow Express, but a proper mainline station. From Schiphol you can travel to all sorts of useful places, including Utrecht. Not only is the airport regularly served by trains to just about everywhere, but the platforms are located directly underneath the terminal and a stone’s throw away from the Burger King. This is a very important detail when one is traveling with 9 months worth of luggage. I was very concerned about how I was going to get both myself and my approximately 100 pounds of baggage to Utrecht.

Just because an airport is well connected by various modes of transportation does not mean that any of those methods are particularly well suited to carrying large amounts of luggage. When I lived in London, I could have theoretically taken the Underground all the way from Heathrow to Russell Square, a few blocks away from my former home. I didn’t. In reality, there is very little luggage space on the Tube and, more importantly, there is half a flight of stairs at the Russell Square station up which I would have had to drag my suitcases. I did see many people travel with large pieces of luggage on Tube during my stay in London, but I have no idea how they managed it.

Fortunately, one can easily travel from the Schiphol Burger King to the platforms by elevator. My main concern was instead what to do with my enormous luggage once I got on the train. In my limited experience riding Dutch trains, I have never seen any place to put luggage other than the overhead racks, which were clearly not designed to accommodate large suitcases. My hope was that there might be some room in one of the vestibules near the doors. Because many Dutch trains are double-deckers, there tends to be some extra room in that area to accommodate stairs to the different floors. When my train pulled up to the platform, I had the great fortune of being near one of the cars with designated space for bicycles. As there were no bicyclists in the vicinity, I saw my opportunity and I seized it, leaving my luggage there. If there had been other passengers with bikes, I am not sure what I would have done. There was some other space in the vestibule, but if the train had been fuller, that might not have been practical either. So, if one is traveling with large amounts of luggage, the train is probably not the best way to go, unless it is a particularly quiet time.

Thirty minutes later I arrived in Utrecht, took an elevator from the platform to the station and made my way to one of the closest hotels to the train station. The next morning, being unwilling to try my hand at traveling with my luggage on the bus, I took a rather expensive taxi ride to my new apartment.

In Which We Arrive (in Amsterdam)

The biggest problem with traveling to Europe (including Britain!) is the time difference. This inevitably means taking a red eye flight and arriving in Europe at some ungodly hour of the morning. I hate red eye flights with a passion. In theory, it's a good idea: Leave at night, sleep on the plane, and arrive bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ready to face a new day. In practice, I have never been so lucky. Although I am very skilled at catching up on my sleep while reading for class or attending lectures, sleeping on trans-Atlantic flights is not an area of my expertise. When I flew to London, I was very fortunate to be able to take a flight that left in the morning and arrived at Heathrow around 10pm. This was absolutely brilliant because, after having to get to the airport at 5am and undergoing a grueling day of travel, I was more than ready to call it a day when I arrived, despite it only being about 5pm in New York. If only all flights to Europe were so convenient!

In Which We Return

Gentle Reader,

I am pleased to announce that, thanks to the generous support of a year long fellowship, I am once again able to attempt to conduct research. Rather than return to the humdrum life of a graduate student at a Midwestern university, I am free to dissertate. I therefore present to you a second season, if you will, of archival investigations, cultural perambulations, and personal tribulations.

However, not unlike a long running tv series desperate to boost sagging ratings, there is a twist – no longer am resident in London, but instead have moved to the continent and to the Netherlands. Having researched the English side of my dissertation, it is now time to do the same for the Dutch half. So, while I hope to still pepper this space with a few more anecdotes from the British Isles, I will now predominantly be writing about my life in the Netherlands.

First though, at the request of my patrons, I must herewith state that this blog is in not the official blog of any grant, fellowship, or program. Likewise, the views expressed here are solely my own and are not those of any grant program, government department, or their partner organizations. They are mine and mine alone.

Thank you.

In Which It is Easter

Lest anyone should think that all I do is visit archives and join religious processions, please allow me to share one the other highlights of my Easter Weekend. One of my personal hobbies is to consume as many different varieties of "ethnic" British food as possible.

Presenting The Cadbury Easter Cake Selection Box:

In Which It Is Good Friday

It was recently Good Friday and the start of a four day bank holiday in the UK. Since all the archives were closed, I decided to participate in some of London's unique Good Friday events.

King's Cross-St. Pancras Ecumenical Walk of Witness:

Following the Cross outside of St. Pancras Station

 The first event on my agenda was this morning procession through the streets of the neighborhoods just south of the King's Cross and St. Pancras railway stations. The walk was organized by members of local churches and lead by members of the clergy carrying a large cross. The walk stopped at a number of "churches," each representing one of the Stations of the Cross. This year's walk began at St. Pancras Church and included stops such as the International Lutheran Student Centre, King's Cross Methodist Church, and Goodenough College. I found the stop at St. Pancras Station, however, to be the most interesting. Since the station has an Anglican chaplain, it was included as one of the neighborhood "churches" we visited. The people in the station seemed quite surprised, and rightly so, by the sight of our little procession passing through. St. Pancras is a busy hub for both commuter and long distance trains, not to mention Eurostar and the Underground. Living in the area, I pass through St. Pancras on a regular basis and I can honestly say that I have never seen anything there before like the Good Friday procession.

In Which it is Palm Sunday

It was Palm Sunday this weekend and St. Paul's Cathedral held their traditionally re-enactment of Christ's entry into Jerusalem. When I heard that this would be an outdoor procession complete with a live donkey, I decided I had to attend. After all, it's not every day that there's a religious procession with a donkey parading through the streets of London

The Procession Approaches (the donkeys are behind the head on the left)

I waited for the procession at Paternoster Square, outside of the Cathedral. When I arrived, I was greeted by St. Paul's sharply dressed ushers, who presented me with a bulletin and a cross made from a palm frond. The ushers at St Paul's are always dressed in formal attire:  morning coats, waistcoats, and large medallions of the Cathedral's arms worn around their necks. I have often wondered whether possessing such fine clothing is a prerequisite to serving as an usher, but I digress…

The London Metropolitan Archives – Basics

Hours:
Monday, Wednesday, Friday – 9:30-4:45
Tuesday and Thursday – 9:30-7:30
Select Saturdays – 9:30-4:45

Getting there:
The 3 closest tube stations are King's Cross-St. Pancras, Angel, and Farringdon. The LMA isn't terribly close to any of these. The 63 bus towards Honour Oak runs fairly regularly from outside of King's Cross and the Bowling Green Lane stop (next to a large parking garage) is very close to the LMA. Presumably there are similar services from the other tube stations.

Sign in at the desk on the first floor and collect a clear plastic bag. Stow your stuff in locker on the "mezzanine" level and go up one more flight of stairs to the reading room.

Getting a "History Card" (i.e. reader's ticket):
If you want to make photocopies, print from a microfilm, or use original documents, you'll need a History Card. Ask at the information desk.  You'll need proof of address and proof of signature.

Ordering Documents:
Documents are ordered using paper slips. Apparently, you can order them using the internet, too, but I have never seen anyone do this. The slips are collected from the Information Desk about every 20 minutes and it takes 20 minutes from the time of their collection for the document to be available.

In addition to being able to order the LMA's documents, you can also have documents delivered from the Guildhall Library, although it takes 48 hours for them to be delivered. As the Guildhall Library's reading room is, I believe, still being renovated, this is the only way to access their manuscripts.

Taking pictures:
£2.70 per day

In Which We Visit the London Metropolitan Archives

In my opinion, the London Metropolitan Archive (LMA) is a good place to start in London. The LMA was the first archive I visited here. This was largely because, with the exception of the British Library, it is the closest to where I am staying in Bloomsbury. The archive, which is located off of Farringdon Road in Islington, is about a twenty minute walk away. I will admit that it took me several attempts to locate the archive, but this was because I was operating under the assumption that the street the archive was on actually came out unto Farringdon Road, which it does not. It instead becomes the tributary of a slightly larger street about 10 or 20 yards earlier.

Interlude: Royal Warrants

Have you ever wondered where the Queen gets her office furniture or where the Prince of Wales gets his shirts made?  How can you be sure that the product you are buying is good enough for a member of the royal household?

Well, look no further than the website of the Royal Warrant Holders Association.  The Association maintains a directory of the current holders of royal warrants, searchable by category and grantor.  The directory lists warrants for everything from animal pregnancy scanning to timber merchants.

So the next time you are throwing a party and looking for a quality purveyor of "fancy goods," you can use to the directory to discover that The General Trading Company of Mayfair has a warrant from the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, and the Prince of Wales.

In Which We Do Laundry - Part I

I may not be the most domestic person in the world, but I do like to think that I am capable of doing my own laundry. Washing clothes isn't terribly difficult and having already used British machines when I was an undergraduate at St. Andrews, I should have been well prepared to do my own laundry here.
Of course, using the machine is the easy part - just try figuring out what kind of detergent to buy!

In Britain, detergent comes in a bewildering variety of types. There are "bio," "non bio," and "colour" to name, but a few. I don't think that any of these categories except possibly "colour" even exist in the United States. When I was in Scotland, I used to buy Persil laundry tabs specifically because they were not labeled with any of these bizarre titles.

In Which We Once Again Fail to Visit Kew

Today I decided once again to work at the National Archives.  When I got on the tube at Kings Cross, there was "A good service on all lines," but when I got off at Victoria to change to the District line this was no longer the case.  Not only was there not a "good service," but all service was suspended on the branch of the District line going to Kew.  Unlike many places in London which are served by multiple Underground lines, Kew is served by only one, so if I was going to get there, I needed to take the District line. 

There was no indication of how long the trains would be stopped so I decided to get on the next District line train heading down one of the line's other forks.  I went as far as far as South Kensington and decided to get off and see if the situation had improved – it had not.  I was hoping that there would be an announcement that bus service had been arranged between stations on the offending portion of track or that there was some other alternative available, but, alas, I was left stranded.

What to do?

With no promise of service being restored any time soon, I decided that rather than venture further from central London on the District line, I would cut my losses, turn back, and head once again to the LMA.  That makes one time this week (yesterday) which I successfully visited TNA.

In Which It is Monday

I spent a lot of time this weekend getting organized and figuring out what I need to do at different archives, so I was ready to spring into action this morning and get some work done.  I was working at The National Archives (a.k.a. TNA, the PRO) on Friday and decided to head back there today. 

It was a beautiful clear day and everything in Kew was covered with a light blanket of snow.  Usually when the train stops a herd of researchers pours off the train down the quiet residential street that leads to the archive, but not today.  Today, I was the only person walking in that direction.  It was a little after ten so I attributed the lull in foot traffic to having missed the morning rush of visitors better equipped than me at getting out the door before nine.  It was a pleasant, peaceful walk.

When I reached the archive, however, they were closed.  This was of course because it is Monday and they are always closed on Mondays.  I should have remembered this because there are no fewer than a half dozen sandwich board signs announcing this fact on their grounds.  I do recall thinking this morning as I passed several of them that I was rather sick of hearing about the archive being closed on Monday, but I failed to make the connection between the signs' message and the fact that today was, indeed, Monday.  I should have known better.  Although TNA was at some point in the not-so-distant past open on Mondays, it's never been in my brief time here.

And so I was forced to turn back to the station, where, one hour and £2.40 in tube fare later, I was basking in the warm glow a microfilm reader in Clerkenwell at the London Metropolitan Archives.

In Which We Celebrate Burns Night

Today is January 25th and the birthday of Scottish Poet Robert Burns, making tonight Burns Night. If the flood of emails I receive from the Scottish Tourist Board is to be believed, this is a cause for great celebration.

Of course, I'm in London not Edinburgh so things are little more subdued here. If I were not a poor grad student, I would consider going to one of the many ceilidhs (pronounced kay-lee) being thrown around town tonight. Back when I was at St. Andrews, I occasionally attended the weekly ceilidh at the student union and it was always a good time, thanks in no small part to the surplus of women in need of dance partners.

Haggis served with neeps (turnips) and tatties (mashed potatoes) is the traditional Burns Night meal, so I made every effort to procure this highland delicacy for myself, starting with the haggis…

In Which We Arrive

While the past may be a foreign country, it has never asked for my passport.  The United Kingdom is, understandably, a little more demanding of its guests.  While I have visited Britain a number of times in the past, I have never stayed longer than a semester before.  This time, however, I will be staying for a little less than six months.  Since the stamps in my passport from previous trips read "Leave to Remain for Six Months," and since I will be back in the states in just under six months, I was expecting a quick trip through passport control.
 
On the contrary, the immigration officer wanted evidence of how I was going to support myself for the duration of my stay and asked to see bank statements verifying my account balances.  While I did not have the forethought to pack any, I was ultimately able to assemble enough other pieces of evidence (including a letter stating the value of my stipend) to be allowed to enter the country for six months.

So, if you are planning to do research for a prolonged period of time, be sure to pack your bank statements.