I just can't stop going there. I love to be a child, jumping through the long grass and running every now and then downhill, aiming for I-don't-know-what. But I must say it was by far the best moment I had in a long time. Well, after Tintagel of course! Somehow Hampstead is gorgeous when the sky is grey. It was a thunderstorm but the breeze was bewitching (apologies for the try-hard poetic lines, but it's true!) with the drops of rain. As I ran through that grass I felt the breeze in tune with the rythm of my i-Pod as I took every step.
I spent more time at the pond today, mostly because there was absolutely no one save a couple trying hard to get lucky at fishing. I sat on my favourite spot, the bark of the tree lying on the bank. Thanks to the isolation, everything seemed bigger and bolder, the meadows opposite and even the church spire; and most obviously it all seemed so dramatic. I kept staring at the wrinkles on the water for a long time and the patterns that the ducks made on it everytime they swam. Speaking of ducks, I was so dissappointed when I spotted 2 ducks stuck in a net in a corner of the pond, they were trying so hard to get out! Even their folks came from their side of the pond trying to get them out but they couldnt! I didnt know what I could have done and I wondered how they even got there in the first place. I tried to bend a little of the metal net with my foot but I was scared to fall inside the pond that seemed so deep. There was no difference between me and those fellow ducks. I stood there helplessly for a bit and walked off, trying not to think about it.
So the leafless tree ruling the hilltop on the other side took my attention instead. I took a picture of it and compared it with the same I had taken a few weeks ago when it was a strong silhouette against the sun. This time it was wet and it's colours seemed more pure. I walked towards Parliament Hill and this time I took a different pathway that lead to a circle of trees, I stood beneath them and wondered if lightening struck me at this time with the trees above and around me, I wouldn't have minded it.
Ever wondered why you might get so sentimental when you see something so beautiful? Felt it, rather? Ironically the purple flowers looked bright and the wind blew the daisies over the grass. I kept looking behind, as usual, to the path behind me that I just walked, and the London skyline on the other side of me. If I could die here, what a fantastic life I would have lead! This is me. I'd live to be here all my dying days. I took a deep breath and walked towards the exit.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Getting lost
Sometimes I want to get away only to enjoy that train journey. Also, I love my habit of deciding to visit a new place, the very last minute. If only I had a dart board and a map, I would rack my brains less. But, never mind, so far racking my brains has been worth it.
The train to Winchester, only an hour long but still enjoyable. I love how those fields keeping passing me by from the window and everytime I look out I am awaiting a new sight in front of me. Ever fancied running on those fields? Probably having your bicycle parked somewhere below a tree, while you take the deep breath of fulfilling a fantasy when you run those fields through the grass and chasing the air?
I finally reached the cathedral city, and without a map, this time I only depended on signs. Thank God for those signs which saved me today or else I would be facing another "Cornish-like adventure". Today was a Sunday, still the town was surprising lazy. I walked through the small street from the station, heading towards the city centre, where apparently I would get a map to reach the cathedral.
I reached a cobble stoned market place with small shops and pubs. I used to adore those wall lamps hung on the wall on such streets. But this time I was fascinated to see huge clocks hung like wall hangings with curved carvings on their circumference. Through those streets I followed signs that directed the location of the cathedral. I reached a small gateway which seemed to open through a garden. To my surprise it lead to the cathedral. It had trees at the entrance that blocked the view of the building and how dramatically they opened up as I went nearer. Winchester Cathedral, not having a enourmous spire like the other ones I had visited, but quite a large building. It was supposed to be one the largest in the country and the fact that it is one of the oldest ones, got me curious about this town; a reason for my visit.
Winchester is a medieval town and was apparently the country's 1st capital, when the Romans came in. Thus there had to be a castle. Wolveys Castle was right behind the cathedral. On one side of the cathedral was the city centre while the other side of the cathedral were meadows and hills and moor lands. The castle was right behind the cathedral. The castle, though ruined, still looked gorgeous in the middle of meadows, surrounded by hills, and when the rain clouds run over you with a bit of the sun, it adds to the drama. This time I felt like a child, walking through a ruined castle, making my plot for fairy tales and imagining what this place could have been like over a thousand years ago. I walked over the stones peeping through windows that overlooked meadows and kept jumping from one step to another. I looked forward to this, I knew that.
What surprised me was the walk through the meadows from the other side of the castle. It was a 'waterside' walk like they said as the meadows were cut through by two little streams. I loved it how the green weed-like grass would swim underneath these extremly shallow streams where you find one or two birds swimming along with them. The path on which we were meant to walk was quite slim and only two people could walk alongside each other. On one side of me was a thick stream flowing through meadows of knee-high grass and a bridge or two breaking the continuity of the sight. On the other side was another meadow but covered witha thick line of trees. The hero of the day was the fantastic weather that made every grass look either silver or golden according to its moods.
I headed back to the cathedral to buy my postcards and I took a last look at it before I walked towards through the city centre towards the station. This was somewhat like Canterbury; a small cathedral town with a market place, a stream, Georgian houses and a charm of its own.
There is something in visiting such places unlike the typical tourist-y kind of places all crowds get attracted to. I love the idea of having the place to myself and yet having a few people around me. It is the greed to making discovery not everyone has made. This is an indulgence that can make me alive all over again. I have realised one thing; getting lost is the only way I can find myself.
The train to Winchester, only an hour long but still enjoyable. I love how those fields keeping passing me by from the window and everytime I look out I am awaiting a new sight in front of me. Ever fancied running on those fields? Probably having your bicycle parked somewhere below a tree, while you take the deep breath of fulfilling a fantasy when you run those fields through the grass and chasing the air?
I finally reached the cathedral city, and without a map, this time I only depended on signs. Thank God for those signs which saved me today or else I would be facing another "Cornish-like adventure". Today was a Sunday, still the town was surprising lazy. I walked through the small street from the station, heading towards the city centre, where apparently I would get a map to reach the cathedral.
I reached a cobble stoned market place with small shops and pubs. I used to adore those wall lamps hung on the wall on such streets. But this time I was fascinated to see huge clocks hung like wall hangings with curved carvings on their circumference. Through those streets I followed signs that directed the location of the cathedral. I reached a small gateway which seemed to open through a garden. To my surprise it lead to the cathedral. It had trees at the entrance that blocked the view of the building and how dramatically they opened up as I went nearer. Winchester Cathedral, not having a enourmous spire like the other ones I had visited, but quite a large building. It was supposed to be one the largest in the country and the fact that it is one of the oldest ones, got me curious about this town; a reason for my visit.
Winchester is a medieval town and was apparently the country's 1st capital, when the Romans came in. Thus there had to be a castle. Wolveys Castle was right behind the cathedral. On one side of the cathedral was the city centre while the other side of the cathedral were meadows and hills and moor lands. The castle was right behind the cathedral. The castle, though ruined, still looked gorgeous in the middle of meadows, surrounded by hills, and when the rain clouds run over you with a bit of the sun, it adds to the drama. This time I felt like a child, walking through a ruined castle, making my plot for fairy tales and imagining what this place could have been like over a thousand years ago. I walked over the stones peeping through windows that overlooked meadows and kept jumping from one step to another. I looked forward to this, I knew that.
What surprised me was the walk through the meadows from the other side of the castle. It was a 'waterside' walk like they said as the meadows were cut through by two little streams. I loved it how the green weed-like grass would swim underneath these extremly shallow streams where you find one or two birds swimming along with them. The path on which we were meant to walk was quite slim and only two people could walk alongside each other. On one side of me was a thick stream flowing through meadows of knee-high grass and a bridge or two breaking the continuity of the sight. On the other side was another meadow but covered witha thick line of trees. The hero of the day was the fantastic weather that made every grass look either silver or golden according to its moods.
I headed back to the cathedral to buy my postcards and I took a last look at it before I walked towards through the city centre towards the station. This was somewhat like Canterbury; a small cathedral town with a market place, a stream, Georgian houses and a charm of its own.
There is something in visiting such places unlike the typical tourist-y kind of places all crowds get attracted to. I love the idea of having the place to myself and yet having a few people around me. It is the greed to making discovery not everyone has made. This is an indulgence that can make me alive all over again. I have realised one thing; getting lost is the only way I can find myself.
Thursday, 9 July 2009
diamond in a mine
I wanted to be here all my life and I thought I knew this place as well as though I lived here in my previous birth. I thought I knew it well, until I reached Hampstead Heath. Of course I felt like I'm not in London.
To start with, Hampstead held the grave of my favourite John Constable in a cosy little graveyard. I entered the graveyard in the evening hearing the church bells, my eyes wandering for the grave. Finally they reached the corner of the yard covered with carpets of dead leaves (how typical, yes!) and as I walked towards his grave the feeling of peace was so deep that it fulfilled some longing in me. I loved him; that's why.
As I walked out of the grave and towards the heath I climbed a hill leading me to it. It is such a small town suddenly from all the posh Westminster air. So simple and so me. The best part of getting to this large piece of moor land, was that its entrance was a tiny path with rocky steps covered with trees. It lead to a huge meadow, a little hilly, grass well mowed and trees surrounded it from all sides, making it look like a small planet ruled by the lumps of clouds above living in the sky.
On the right end of the meadow was a pathway that lead to a court of trees. Some were in circles while some stood anywhere; a typical forest. I got back to the meadow and walked towards the right side. There was a cycle track that lead downhill to another place. This path was too, surrounded by trees and while you would walk you find that through them there were other meadows. I reached a marshy pond surrounded by moss. I walked on the bridge than ran over it. It was a little broken and a little rusty, nevertheless it only added to the character of the creepy pond where branches fell on it and leaves floated.
I followed my path that lead to two lines of trees running parallel to each other, but perpendicular to my path, running on either side of me. Beyond this line of trees my path continued with another meadow on my left. As I continued walking the forest started feeling thicker, there were creepers and twigs forming weird gateways and leaves making mysterious carpets. The path turned again and again. I felt like I was getting lost and I turned back but instead I took one of the branching pathways where cycles were not allowed.
I walked through leaves and climbed on mudded stones. Then again I reached another meadow. This one was even bigger. I was on the top of it this time so my horizon has the meadow and the trees, distant but on the side of it. I continued discovering it. There were fields of dry grass knee high some were topped with small yellow daisies. There were small cycle tracks cutting the meadow from each sides. I reached the centre of this meadow. A dry, broken tree behind me looking at me like a silhouette backed by the sun. I front of my was a small valley, where the meadow just went downhill to more and more grass. At the bottom was a huge pond where a few children sailed their toy motor boats. On the other side of the pond was another hill valleyed by families of trees. Finally my horizon was taken over by another green meadowed hill which was ruled by a church spire.
I sat on the grass below that and looked up at the sun. I closed my eyes to let that one tear fall down. I put off the music from my i-Pod only to hear the breeze teasing the grass and pampering my ears. I spoke to my mum, told her I missed her. I went back into my time and I started walking the cycle track leading to the pond. Ducks swam through those water wrinkles, always hard to capture in sketches. A gravel track outlined the pond and a huge tree trunk fell dead on it. I took my throne when I climbed on it and sat down to see the world slightly below me. As usual, I tilted my head to the lowest it could get so that I could get to see the world upside down. I pulled it back up as I felt the sun setting on my back and giving it's reflection to the clouds in front and above me.
I jumped down and started walking uphill through the same meadow. I reached the top and kept looking back, seeing what I left behind me. I started walking further and found and empty bench waiting for me. As I sat down the sound of the rustling grass got louder and somewhere near me I think I heard a running stream. I headed towards the other side of the meadow where there were trees.
Another pathway lead me through those trees and then again I reached a circle of trees as though in a midieval court. They surrounded me trying to take me over. I walked passed a tree and then again I reached another hill. This one was steeper. One one side were bushes with violet flowers and of course white daisies. This hill seemed steep enough to make me feel like I am walking towards the sky. The grass below me accompanied me in my venture and the sky welcomed me with the warm sun setting for the day. I continued walking upwards till I reached the top and I realised I am standing on Parliament Hill where I saw the skyline of London in a distant with its iconic buildings, but all ruled by the dome of St Paul's.
I looked back at the setting sun and saw the silhouette of another spire piercing through the sky. I saw the whole world at its contrast where on one side of me was my home and on the other side of me were mysterious pathways leading from forests to meadows; drying in grass; meadows outlined by other meadows ruled by church spires, all living through the shining sun and sleeping through the smoky dusk. Such is Hampstead Heath.
To start with, Hampstead held the grave of my favourite John Constable in a cosy little graveyard. I entered the graveyard in the evening hearing the church bells, my eyes wandering for the grave. Finally they reached the corner of the yard covered with carpets of dead leaves (how typical, yes!) and as I walked towards his grave the feeling of peace was so deep that it fulfilled some longing in me. I loved him; that's why.
As I walked out of the grave and towards the heath I climbed a hill leading me to it. It is such a small town suddenly from all the posh Westminster air. So simple and so me. The best part of getting to this large piece of moor land, was that its entrance was a tiny path with rocky steps covered with trees. It lead to a huge meadow, a little hilly, grass well mowed and trees surrounded it from all sides, making it look like a small planet ruled by the lumps of clouds above living in the sky.
On the right end of the meadow was a pathway that lead to a court of trees. Some were in circles while some stood anywhere; a typical forest. I got back to the meadow and walked towards the right side. There was a cycle track that lead downhill to another place. This path was too, surrounded by trees and while you would walk you find that through them there were other meadows. I reached a marshy pond surrounded by moss. I walked on the bridge than ran over it. It was a little broken and a little rusty, nevertheless it only added to the character of the creepy pond where branches fell on it and leaves floated.
I followed my path that lead to two lines of trees running parallel to each other, but perpendicular to my path, running on either side of me. Beyond this line of trees my path continued with another meadow on my left. As I continued walking the forest started feeling thicker, there were creepers and twigs forming weird gateways and leaves making mysterious carpets. The path turned again and again. I felt like I was getting lost and I turned back but instead I took one of the branching pathways where cycles were not allowed.
I walked through leaves and climbed on mudded stones. Then again I reached another meadow. This one was even bigger. I was on the top of it this time so my horizon has the meadow and the trees, distant but on the side of it. I continued discovering it. There were fields of dry grass knee high some were topped with small yellow daisies. There were small cycle tracks cutting the meadow from each sides. I reached the centre of this meadow. A dry, broken tree behind me looking at me like a silhouette backed by the sun. I front of my was a small valley, where the meadow just went downhill to more and more grass. At the bottom was a huge pond where a few children sailed their toy motor boats. On the other side of the pond was another hill valleyed by families of trees. Finally my horizon was taken over by another green meadowed hill which was ruled by a church spire.
I sat on the grass below that and looked up at the sun. I closed my eyes to let that one tear fall down. I put off the music from my i-Pod only to hear the breeze teasing the grass and pampering my ears. I spoke to my mum, told her I missed her. I went back into my time and I started walking the cycle track leading to the pond. Ducks swam through those water wrinkles, always hard to capture in sketches. A gravel track outlined the pond and a huge tree trunk fell dead on it. I took my throne when I climbed on it and sat down to see the world slightly below me. As usual, I tilted my head to the lowest it could get so that I could get to see the world upside down. I pulled it back up as I felt the sun setting on my back and giving it's reflection to the clouds in front and above me.
I jumped down and started walking uphill through the same meadow. I reached the top and kept looking back, seeing what I left behind me. I started walking further and found and empty bench waiting for me. As I sat down the sound of the rustling grass got louder and somewhere near me I think I heard a running stream. I headed towards the other side of the meadow where there were trees.
Another pathway lead me through those trees and then again I reached a circle of trees as though in a midieval court. They surrounded me trying to take me over. I walked passed a tree and then again I reached another hill. This one was steeper. One one side were bushes with violet flowers and of course white daisies. This hill seemed steep enough to make me feel like I am walking towards the sky. The grass below me accompanied me in my venture and the sky welcomed me with the warm sun setting for the day. I continued walking upwards till I reached the top and I realised I am standing on Parliament Hill where I saw the skyline of London in a distant with its iconic buildings, but all ruled by the dome of St Paul's.
I looked back at the setting sun and saw the silhouette of another spire piercing through the sky. I saw the whole world at its contrast where on one side of me was my home and on the other side of me were mysterious pathways leading from forests to meadows; drying in grass; meadows outlined by other meadows ruled by church spires, all living through the shining sun and sleeping through the smoky dusk. Such is Hampstead Heath.
Saturday, 4 July 2009
breakaway
Nothing was better than cycling through the middle of a forest where you are the only soul and you probably rule that world. Since the time I heard about New Forest, I was so keen on going. I kept postponing my trip but finally one Friday morning I took off for Brockenhurst, to get off for a cycling trip to New Forest.
The station was quant for sure for a small village. I hired a cycle right outside the station. After the owner instructed me on how to use a cycle and maintain the speed, I took off crossing the rail tracks and into the village. I kept following signs leading to the forest and at the same time I follwed the instructions written on the route guide the instructor gave me.
I passed through the village, reached a small highway, nervous for cycling after ages and that too on the main road with the cars speeding next to me. Finally I followed a small gravel track towards my right from the road. Surrounded by trees this track finally lead to huge moor lands and meadow with one or two small farmhouses ruling them. The main highlight was the galloping horses on one side through fields. The wind could'nt be better. I felt like I was flying. Huge empty acres of land with fields, small tracks, galloping horses, the cloudy skies the warm sun, the end of the spring, and me being the only soul to enjoy this.
I entered another forest of tall tress which reminded me of the Nilgiris, though not blue and with no fragrance. There were streams running below small bridges. It was so quite; just the sound of the wind, the rustling leaves and my breath. My i-pod; my soulmate gave me the best music to enjoy. I couldnt have done this without it.
While on my way back I took refuge for a while on the bank of the pebbled stream, just to listen to the sound of life near me and the vastness of the sky above. I wish I had carried my sketching book.
This was New Forest for me. I got a chance to fly through reality. It felt perfect this time and it was real
The station was quant for sure for a small village. I hired a cycle right outside the station. After the owner instructed me on how to use a cycle and maintain the speed, I took off crossing the rail tracks and into the village. I kept following signs leading to the forest and at the same time I follwed the instructions written on the route guide the instructor gave me.
I passed through the village, reached a small highway, nervous for cycling after ages and that too on the main road with the cars speeding next to me. Finally I followed a small gravel track towards my right from the road. Surrounded by trees this track finally lead to huge moor lands and meadow with one or two small farmhouses ruling them. The main highlight was the galloping horses on one side through fields. The wind could'nt be better. I felt like I was flying. Huge empty acres of land with fields, small tracks, galloping horses, the cloudy skies the warm sun, the end of the spring, and me being the only soul to enjoy this.
I entered another forest of tall tress which reminded me of the Nilgiris, though not blue and with no fragrance. There were streams running below small bridges. It was so quite; just the sound of the wind, the rustling leaves and my breath. My i-pod; my soulmate gave me the best music to enjoy. I couldnt have done this without it.
While on my way back I took refuge for a while on the bank of the pebbled stream, just to listen to the sound of life near me and the vastness of the sky above. I wish I had carried my sketching book.
This was New Forest for me. I got a chance to fly through reality. It felt perfect this time and it was real
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