Remanufacturing Myself
Every school year, I try something different, something new, something that makes me work a little harder or brings new ideas to my classroom.
In the excitement of returning to my classroom after six weeks in India and the United Kingdom, I thought about ways to integrate my experience into my curriculum. I created a short, “getting-to-know-you” presentation with photos of my trip and the people I met. I wrote an article for our district newsletter. I modified my Language Arts curriculum to make it more suitable for English Language Learners at an advanced proficiency level.
No matter what, the focus in my classes remains on reading and writing skills. I talk about going to college as a goal (“college and career ready” in the jargon of our school’s mission statement), and mention the benefits of a technical education as well. Many of my students now ride the bus to a local technical school and return with stories of learning auto mechanics or becoming familiar with healthcare.
For me, my education has not stopped with my so-called “terminal degree” of a doctorate in educational leadership. I registered at the University of Vermont for a class in Comparative Slavery. Already, after two classes, I’m heavily involved in reading works by Orlando Patterson (Freedom and the Making of Western Culture, 1991; Slavery and Social Death, 1982) and planning a research paper (The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander posits that incarceration is the current form of slavery. I would like to connect these threads, following the thinking of Bryan Stevenson in Just Mercy [2014] and his work with the Equal Justice Initiative, the human rights organization he leads in Montgomery, Alabama. If nothing else, my dissertation prepared me for a life of research and academic reading.)
Then, today’s New York Times carried an article by Mary Laura Philpott about starting life over again in the fall (“I’m So Excited for 40th Grade”). Children arrive at their first classes with new shoes, backpacks, piercings, perhaps a new name acquired over the summer.
For
August Flooding in Mahe
I heard from Rathnakaran today and he reported that the school has been closed due to flooding. He expects to reopen on Monday, 19 August 2019.
Flooding at Jawahar Novodaya Vidyalaya, Mahe, India
Entrance to the school
Courtyard where we had assemblies and played frisbee
Offices and Kitchen
Saint Paul’s and London
Today’s tour began by meeting Stella Richards at Lola’s Cupcakes and touring Saint Paul’s Cathedral. Stella and her family are my neighbors in Stowe and were brought up in the United Kingdom. So I had a first-class guide for today’s journey around London.
We had a joyful reunion at Blackfriars and immediately joined the queue for Saint Paul’s Cathedral. The church itself, designed by Christopher Wren after the Great Fire of London in 1666, was completed in 1711. The previous cathedral, built by the Normans after the 1087 fire, was consecrated in 1240. The current cathedral serves as a magnificent historical as well as religious icon. The church recognizes both its religious and cultural significance, with a cleric announcing a moment of silence at 11:00 for those associated with the cathedral.
Like much I have seen in London, Saint Paul’s contains a massive amount of history for one visitor to comprehend. My focus on this trip connects to my experience in India, however, and in this cathedral I saw several links to the Empire and the British Raj. Memorials to generals who had served as Viceroy to India or assisted the British East India Company lined the walls of the church or the crypt. One plaque honored the Indian soldiers who had served in the British Army during the First and Second World Wars.
India remains on my mind as I explore London and the UK. Colonialism played a role in India’s development and the after-effects of the British Raj continue to affect Indian life. Behind the plaques and statues lie the history of colonialism.
Other Notables
The first U.S. president, George Washington, has a bust in a quiet corner of the crypt as does Florence Nightingale, recognized for her nursing services in the Crimean War. A bust of Lawrence of Arabia (Thomas Edward Lawrence) hangs on the wall as do plaques for governors of Australia and New Zealand.
Florence Nightingale 
Gallipoli Campaign 
Lawrence of Arabia
(Thomas Edward Lawrence)
George Washington
The crypt contains the remains of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, who played a role in India, and Horatio Nelson, hero of Trafalgar. Saint Paul’s was the scene of many funerals, including those of Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher.
After lunch at a vegan buffet, we walked along the Embankment with views of the skyline and the Thames. We spent time in the Tate Modern Museum (and saw another Henry Moore sculpture; the first was in Saint Paul’s). We walked to Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square, and took a bus to the Indian quarter of Brick Yard. Stella and her friend Kath walked me through Old Spitalfields Market then we paid our respects to the the Kindertransport memorial at Liverpool Station, which recognizes the Jewish children who found refuge in England from the Nazis during World War II. The Talking Beautiful Stuff post contains more information about the Kindertransport as does this link to six million memorials.
Walking for the day
This post shortens a long day into several impressions. But we saw a lot of the city—the Russian guitar player, an exhibit of World Wildlife photos, and a visit to the top of the new Tate building with incredible views of London. My phone tells me I walked 11.6 miles for the Thursday, 1 August 2019. No wonder my feet are tired! My previous tours around London have involved walking a “mere” seven or eight miles… Thanks, Stella!!!
Natural History Museum
Schools in the United Kingdom began the summer break only a few weeks ago, and many of those students filled the Natural History Museum on Sunday. Groups from China, families, and this solitary visitor from them U.S. crowded the museums exhibit areas, all stopping to take selfies and (hopefully) gain something from the miles of displays and science-related history.
The museum reflects the ideas of Charles Darwin, Carl Linnaeus (the creator of the binomial naming system that defines organisms) as well as the museum’s founder, Richard Owen, and architect Alfred Waterhouse. With meteorites representing the 4.5 billion year history of the earth, type samples from hundreds of years of specimen collection, fossils that helped define the stratigraphy of the earth, and contemporary exhibitions of the moon and volcanic systems of the earth, the Natural History Museum is a home for one-stop shopping into the science of the world.
At other points in my life, I studied geology and the history of the world and this museum has it all: Specimens from botany, entomology, mineralogy, paleontology, and zoology. Mounted specimens with the tag stating genus and species reminded me of a zoology class I took in graduate school and the specimens I had prepared. The stunning gem collection and the huge room devoted to rocks (igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary) brought stones into a new perspective. Exhibits about the human body and mammals successfully explained life on earth in real terms. Whales, elephants, dolphins—about every possible form of animal life as we know it and displays about dinosaurs and early forms of life to the cell level—rounded out the displays. The museum contains 80 million specimens and the new wing, the Darwin Center, shows samples preserved in formalin or mounted, with the aisles of the working laboratory stretching behind the display cases and upward eight stories. This working museum mixes display with the work done behind the scenes to categorize and document life types.
The work of of the museum goes back to Charles Darwin and his Origin of Species. The museum houses many of his samples from the journey of the Beagle as well as samples collected from Antarctic expeditions, and more.
Reflection: Summer Vacation
This essay begins at the St. Pancras Youth Hostel in London. It concludes—but does not end—as I sit at my work table in Stowe, Vermont listening to a gentle summer rain strike the roof, feel the cool breeze through the window, and contemplate the work I must do to complete my Fulbright Teachers for Global Classroom work and begin the 2019-20 school year.
A rainbow flag hangs from the balcony outside the television room where I try to work every morning. I quietly leave my small, cramped dorm room with its five other occupants, avoiding any rustling that might wake them, and retreat to this room where I write my blog.
Ah, the blog. Originally designed to capture my experiences as part of the Teachers for Global Classrooms and the Fulbright grant I received, it has morphed into a daily writing assignment about my travels. Today, I’ve decided to capture some thoughts about this day.
To conclude my work in India, I envisioned time in London as a week to explore the city where I’ve never been but always wanted to go, a time to spend with friends in the Midlands, a period of decompression before resuming my life back in the the States. When a friend suggested that I extend my trip to see more of this city, it took only minutes to change my reservation and plan another week in London. So much to see and do. So little time.
Truly, I got a lot a lot out of this experience, more than my aching feet would admit. I’ve walked as much as 11 miles in one day as I explored. I feel part of Great Britain, having seen its history revealed in the British Museum, the British Library (Shakespeare’s First Folio!), Saint Paul’s, Westminster Abbey (Poets’ Corner!), and hours spent on the Underground figuring out how to get around. A full day tour with a friend covered the typical tourist spots: Covent Garden, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, the Tate, an Indian restaurant on Brick Road, the monument to the Kindertransport children at Liverpool station. Solo travels to the Natural History Museum, the Imperial War Museum, and a bicycle tour of the city followed.
But this post applies to my personal growth. There is something to be said for a traveler alone in a new city. This experience has tested my limits, just as this entire trip has pushed me beyond my comfort zone. True, I have friends in the U.S. who connect with me via text and What’s App. I’m aware of the five-hour time difference and what they’re doing in their regular routine. They have offered support and encouragement after reading my posts.
Still, those people are far away when I get lost in Covent Garden, come up on the same bus stop twice, and travel down some skanky streets trying to follow directions on Google maps. I have trouble with cell service, except in the hostel. Yet, my cell service connection allows me to get around in a reasonable fashion. Only operator error is responsible for my getting lost.
I’ve changed my views about social media. Like so many others, I stroll with a cell phone in hand, talking to myself as I try to read directions. Almost everyone is doing the same. Saint Pancras station is the hub for both local and international travel: The Eurostar to France enters daily and trains leave for hundreds of cities around London. Patient travelers scan acres of train announcements to find the correct platform every day. The ubiquitous rolling suitcase follows almost everyone. Visitors from China predominate in the queues, with boys and girls pulling a child-size roller beside parents’ four-foot tall luggage. Everyone is on the move, most holding a cell phone with directions to their next stop. I’m just another member of this wandering tribe.
I love the Underground, although I am far from an expert. I can read the map on my phone and plot a route more or less successfully. I’ve had the experience of getting on a train moving in the wrong direction and getting off and retracing my steps. I’ve found favorite places in certain cars, tolerated walking over extended feet in the aisle, read the occasional newspaper, became amazed when I saw someone reading Nabokov. Commuters younger than I offer me their seats, which I politely decline. One young woman spilled her coffee as she made her offer, which embarrassed me greatly. “Get a coffee on me,” I said as I left the car, gently placing some pound coins on her cup. No kind act should go unrewarded.
This hostel is a crossroads of cultures. I hear German at breakfast, French throughout the day, quiet conversations in Chinese, and languages I infer as Slavic. “How old are you?” asked an Italian man living in my dorm room. Like many others, he and his partner arrived and disappeared from the hostel. I wonder how the guests look at me with my iPad and keyboard anchoring a corner table every day. Although I’ve conversed with other guests, I continue to be self-contained on this trip.
On a group bike tour yesterday, I had conversations with an Indian family from New Jersey, a couple from Australia, another couple from Ireland, and a woman from Ghent, Belgium who has visited London ten times. Our guide, a London resident with a sarcastic view of the city, politics, and the monarchy, played music as we toured the city. He asked historical questions—“Who was Jan Smuts?” referring to a statue in Parliament Square and seemed surprised when I answered Prime Minister of South Africa—and entertained us as we rode through the crowds.
People move with a purpose towards Saint Pancras/King’s Cross Stations throughout the day. There are trains to catch and appointments to keep. My schedule is primarily my own, unless I need to reach a place at a certain time, so I seldom share the commuters’ sense of urgency. Today, I have to catch the 0822 train to Bletchley, so there an imperative in my thinking even though it is not yet 0700. I opt to eat breakfast at the hostel, more for the tea and the calories than the nutrition. This is not a restaurant I would frequent or even consider in my regular life. Then, I find myself staring at the acres of announcements, trying to find the platform occupied by the 0822 train.
This entire trip has a been a series of compromises. I maintain my vegan/vegetarian standards but I’ve stopped asking what went into the meal. Last night at Ravi Shankar’s Indian restaurant, I told the waiter I wanted a vegan dinner and simply ate what he brought, along with a mug of mint tea (with mint leaves included to create a delightful taste). The dahl and chapati brought me back to those wonderful meals in Mahe and New Delhi, watching a cook prepare a meal in Birkaner, and helping Robert prepare dahl in Worcester.
Today, I examine these details of my experience with wonder and nostalgia. From my house in Vermont—wind chimes singing in the background, sun shining on acres of hemlock trees—London seems a universe away. New Delhi, Birkaner, Jaipur, and Mahe even further. Yet these memories feel as real as the life I am living today.
According to a Zen koan, a teacher heard two students arguing about the flapping of a flag.
“The wind moves it,” says one.
“No, the flag moves itself,” says the other.
“Neither the wind nor the flag moves,” says the teacher. “Your mind moves.”
My mind has moved over vast distances in the past five weeks. Travel has touched me, given me a gift of belonging and oneness with another world. I treasure these feelings. Because I became involved in a project, took some risks, and said yes to change, I now have the opportunity to make Indian food for myself, look forward to buying more spices, and read about international affairs with a new understanding.
My spirit now has the challenge of keeping up with those thoughtful changes as I resume my life of teaching. Right now, the future seems dim and without direction. My To Do lists seem unmanageable. Lesson plans a vast mountain to climb. So, I write, think, and wait to do the next right thing. The shifting center of my being has moved over the past six weeks and now I must catch up.
I am grateful for change at this point in my life. My experiences have altered me in subtle ways, bringing me into a new state of awareness for the world, its people, and myself. I have stretched the possible into the actual and now see myself differently: More aware, open to new possibilities, a child looking at the world with new eyes.
Travel Lessons: Home Again
The trip westward across the Atlantic went a lot smoother than the eastward trip five weeks ago. I’ve learned to travel better. My new rolling luggage worked like a charm. And I’ve (almost) mastered the mantra: “Don’t just do something. Sit there!” Travel, I’ve learned, involves lots of waiting, which for me involves lots of recorded music, contemplation, and reading.
After exchanging my British coins for folding money, I left the hostel around 0600 London time and walked to the bus stop for the 205 bus to Paddington. I carried my (still overloaded) backpack and my rolling suitcase. At that hour of the morning, my companions included people working at St. Mary’s Hospital, various other early commuters, and the van drivers with deliveries to make. Smiles abounded and simple courtesies. I watched iconic British taxicabs and travelers with their rolled luggage more up and down the street.
Paddington Station was quiet as I wandered inside its vast vaulted-ceilinged terminal. A very pleasant transport worker helped me pay for my ticket on the Heathrow Express: £25 for a 20-minute ride direct to my airline terminal.
I made one final visit to that famous bear from darkest Peru, Paddington Brown, and remembered the Railway Workers who perished in war.
My last train ride in England maintained British Rail’s reputation for smooth, dependable transportation. Just as I finished my tea and a breakfast muffin, we arrived at Terminal 2. More money to exchange: Pounds for dollars and some leftover rupees for pounds for dollars.
My gilet jacket [je-lay] helped considerably with the trip through security. I filled the pockets (with cellphones, pens, passport, belt), placed the entire jacket into the bin, and passed successfully through the metal detector. Thank you, Robert, for suggesting the gilet as a travel tool. It was indispensable.
Then the wait began. I knew before leaving the hostel that my 10:15 flight would leave around 12:55 and I was about four hours early. I settled in among the hundreds of other travelers, first at a Pret A Manger—my go-to place for porridge, breakfast muffins, and tea with coconut milk throughout my London visit (and a firm with a strong sense of social justice and community)—then in the general assembly area. I read and people-watched. I also arranged for a later flight to Burlington to compensate for the delayed start.
The hours flew by. I got through another security check at the gate before boarding the AirBus for Philadelphia. I had reserved an aisle seat when I checked in and, wonder of wonders, the seat next to me was vacant. My vegetarian meal, however, was not on the plane so I endured the seven-hour flight with a salad, some pretzels, and some crumpets from my bag. A sympathetic flight attendant gave me frequent flyer points for the missing meal. I read about India, watched the movie Tolkien, and found a science fantasy novel on my iPad to entertain me. I actually dozed through the takeoff and woke when the captain turned off the seatbelt sign!
Philadelphia involved more security checks, passport scans, and physically moving my checked luggage to a baggage check in. As it turned out, that bag disappeared in Philadelphia and will be delivered to my home. I greeted everyone with a smile and thanked them. More than ever before, I realize that the world runs because of TSA officers, security personnel, cabin attendants, and store clerks. That morning, a security officer’s “Jolly good” brought a smile to my face.
I spent the time in Philadelphia eating dinner, talking with Bob Walsh on the phone (“Hey, remember me?”) and welcoming the feeling of “Back in the USA.” My rescheduled flight didn’t take off until 9:00 pm, and the five-hour time difference meant I’d been traveling for 22 hours. I arrived at Burlington to see Usamah’s smiling face at baggage claim. One of my former high school students, Usamah just finished a two-year program at Community Collge of Vermont, supports himself by driving a cab, and will take the citizenship exam next week. I was glad to see him and we talked all the way to Stowe. It was a new experience to drive down rural country roads at night, so different than the noise and bustle at St. Pancras in London. My house in the woods looked dark and alone.
I got into bed around midnight, 23 hours after I had left the Saint Pancras Hostel. It was a l-o-n-g day. The grass looked overgrown and I had no water (probably due to a power outage), but those problems could wait for tomorrow.
Being Home
The house felt empty, and realized all the work I had to do to summarize my Fulbright work, prepare a slide show, pay bills, and get ready for the start of school in a few weeks.
On the plus side: I returned with a pocketful of memories and many new friends. I feel different from the person who left unneeded travel items on the bed at the end of June. I am now:
- Traveled.
- More willing to adapt.
- Capable of having conversations with a variety of people.
- Able to test my limits and do something different.
- Accepting of little things—a cup of cool water; a child’s smile; a crumpet with marmalade; a soft bed; time to write; a What’s App message from a friend; getting lost on the Underground; train rides through the country, whether in India or the United Kingdom; an offer to sit down on a crowded train; tea and more tea, made with loose leaves in a pot with soy milk; a kind tuk-tuk driver in Jaipur and another in New Delhi; my Fulbright colleagues in both India and the United States; the students and teachers I came to know in Mahe.
All these little things make up the mosaic that is travel, an image that remains at my core and will affect what I do today and tomorrow. I have many memories of new friends—and ongoing support from old friends—to further sustain me in my re-entry into my life.
Some might call it “self-concept clarity.” Others quoteGerman philosopher Hermann von Keyserling’s book Travel Diaries of a Philosopher (1919) to encapsulate the effects of travel:
“The shortest path to oneself leads around the world.”
https://remoteyear.com/blog/how-travel-changes-you-and-your-life
Add Michael Crichton’s ideas about travel into the mix:
Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am. There is no mystery about why this should be so. Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes — with all this taken away, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That’s not always comfortable, but it is always invigorating.”
Quoted by Chris Pardo in Plus Relocation.
Yes, the refrigerator needs cleaning and I must arrange to repair the car. There’s mail to pick up at the Post Office and bills to pay. There are the luxuries of doing laundry, unpacking, sleeping in my own bed, and living in my own home.
Through all the plans for today and tomorrow, next week and next month, runs the little thought: I’m different today because of where I’ve been. I hope I can retain that feeling of newness and excitement for a while—at least until my next trip. Hopefully, the adventure continues.
###
References: Benefits of Travel
Hajo, Adam, Obodaru, Otilia, Lu, Jackson, Maddox, William, & Galinsky, Adam (2018). Semantic Scholar.
History, Science & Math: Bletchley Park
Plaque in the mansion
Many of my interests came together during the trip to Bletchley Park. This location, a 30-mile train ride from London, was the scene for code breaking, espionage and innovative scientific thinking during World War II.
Stories in the displays talk of double agents and life in cold, dark rooms to decipher messages from the Germans and Japanese. Through it all is the work of Alan Turing, who created computing as we know it today through his meticulous and mindful approach to problem solving. (The British Government did not treat Turing kindly after the war. More recently, the Queen issued a posthumous pardon and the Bank of England plans to issue a £50 note bearing Turing’s image.)
Women played a significant roles in codebreaking, taking concepts of mathematical reasoning and making them work in practical ways, using some of the earliest forms of computational tools, which required significantly more personal attention than today’s versions.
I realized that I’d left the crowds in London. Couples and families made up the visitors and everyone had an interest in Bletchley. The mansion offered an opportunity for children to color and think while parents wandered through the rooms and relived what life was like in the 1940s. The nicest part of the day revolved around a folding fabric chair on the lawn, which gave me key view of the visitors and a trip back in time when young people lived and worked at Bletchley.
Fortunately, I could appreciate the quiet, relaxed nature of the place without the triple shifts and intense effort required to break codes. Besides the obvious historical significance, Bletchley proved a magical, relaxing place, framed by a pleasant train ride at each end of the day.
On a Bicycle in London
People in London use bicycles to get around. The main roads have special bicycle lanes, separate from the roadway, with their own traffic lights. From my own observations, many people bike to work and across the city. This past weekend, Prudential raised money for charity with a 100-kilometer bike ride from Surrey to London. Thousands participated. The transportation centers were full of riders and their bikes as the tired cyclists commuted to their homes at the end of the day.
With bicycling on my mind, it seemed appropriate to take a bike tour with the London Bicycle Tour Company. The company provided one-speed bikes, a helmet, and an experienced guide. Our group of 18 included people from Belgium, France, Australia, Ireland, and a family from New Jersey in the United States.
It took us a while to get organized and learn that the brake positions are reversed on British bikes (left hand stops the rear wheel, the opposite of American bikes). We squirreled our way down quiet city streets and stopped at Parliament Square, where Ollie—our somewhat sarcastic and totally British guide—offered questions and tidbits about the statues of Smuts, Mandela, Gandhi, and others.
The tour covered all the hot spots: Parliament, Buckingham Palace, the Changing of the Guards, Trafalgar Square, Saint Paul’s, and a quirky graffiti art scene under Waterloo Station.
If I return to London, I would like to do more biking. So many commuters have folding bicycles, which look quite innovative and able to meet the challenges of city riding. I could learn my way around the city—and maybe into the countryside.
Last Day in London
With a sad heart, I realized that today was my final day in London. I set out early to explore the area around St. Paul’s, visit the Royal Gardens, and explore the Houses of Parliament.
Kensington sparkled in the early morning. I walked from Lancaster Gate to the Albert Memorial and then circled back past Princess Diana’s children’s playground and the Elfin Oak, an iconic tree with tiny figures of fairies, elves, and animals.
Kensington Gardens
Palace of Westminster (Parliament)
The pomp and greatness of Britain reveals itself in the Houses of Parliament. After a rigorous security screening (the guard even examined the crumpets I had reserved for tea time!), I began my tour. The building itself is under construction inside and out. Conservators are cleaning massive paintings in the House of Lords, the Elizabeth Tower (home to Big Ben) and the exterior of the Parliament buildings are clothed in scaffolding. The audio tour stresses the 900-year history of the site and the famous figures who have walked these passages, past and present.
Charles I puts in a major appearance because he feuded with Parliament, fought Oliver Cromwell, was accused of treason for insisting on the right of kings, and was executed in 1641. Cromwell took over the government after the execution of Charles I in 1649. When relations improved, the monarchy returned under Charles II in 1660.
Crossing the Thames
The day ended with a final crossing of the Thames on the pedestrian bridge and my lingering look at the cityscape. I made my way back to Euston Station via the District and Northern Lines, and began to pack for home.
I will miss this city and its people, the multiple languages in the air, and the rich history that surrounds everything British. I will miss having a pocketful of pound coins and using my Oyster card to ride the Underground trains.
A Day On the Water
At Stella’s suggestion, I bought a ticket for the water taxi and journeyed to Greenwich to see the Maritime Museum, the Cutty Sark, and the Royal Observatory at Greenwich
I also saw London from the river, an amazing sight.
Much of the city displays tower cranes and a vast amount of construction, including the iconic clock tower with Big Ben. Still, the cityscape is exciting and colorful.
Greenwich
The Cutty Sark became my first stop in Greenwich. This massive ship lies in dry dock, conserved and preserved over the years in a high-quality way. The tour begins in the lower hold, which contains descriptions of the tea trade and samples of the tea boxes that would have been loaded by Chinese stevedores when the ship was active. Although designed for speed and to bring tea from China to England—the first crop of tea received the highest price—she only spent seven years in the tea trade.
The tour revealed an iron-framed ship with wooded planks bolted to the outside. It was designed to carry cargo, which the iron framework allowed because it took up less space than the traditional wooden framing. The name Cutty Sark itself comes from a Robert Burns poem “Tam O’Shanter” published in 1791. A “cutty sark” is a nightdress, in the poem worn by the witch Nannie.
Steamships brought an end to the sailing ships involvement in the tea trade and Cutty Sark began transporting wool from Australia, coal, and other goods, setting speed records along the way. Under the name Ferrara, and flying the Portuguese flag, the ship transported goods between Europe and Africa before becoming a training ship and then, in 1954, ending up in drydock at Greenwich, where she became a national icon. A further refit between 2006 and 2012 further conserved the ship and preserved her in her condition similar to her years in the tea trade.
Like much of what I’ve seen in Britain, history and trade played a major role in the development of the Cutty Sark. From a 21st-Century perspective, it’s helpful to remember that before World War I, Britain controlled about one-quarter of the world’s population and one-quarter of Earth’s land area. “The empire on which the sun never sets” meant just that: For every minute of the day, from sunrise to sunset, the sun’s rays touched a British possession: Britain controlled so much of the world. The British Empire was the largest empire in history.
Observatory
A walk up the hill brought me to the Royal Observatory. Here astronomers and scientists had developed and refined the concept of a meridian that divided the world into east and west hemispheres, the idea that zero degrees longitude marked the midpoint of the world. Britain’s seafaring role and dependance on trade made time and geography essential for growth.
Acceptance of the Prime Meridian depended on scientific development as well as political agreement. Astronomical observations mechanically set the line, which map makers used to develop sea charts in the nineteenth century. The Prime Meridian established a measuring point for every place on earth from one established point. In 1884, nations of the world agreed:
Forty-one delegates from 25 nations met in Washington DC for the International Meridian Conference. By the end of the conference, Greenwich had won the prize of Longitude 0º by a vote of 22 to 1 against (San Domingo), with 2 abstentions (France and Brazil).
Royal Observatory
Maritime Museum
Once again, British history led me back to India. The Maritime Museum contains an exhibit about the British East India Company, and an interesting contemporary film, which includes individuals familiar with the company and its development: A woman from Bombay, a daughter of a trader, the man who now owns the East India Company, and several others.
Interestingly, the present owner of the East India Company is an Indian merchant. The sense from the interviews was of the damage that the East India Company had done to the people of India, how the policies and politics of trade affected the development of countries and wars of conquest. India, for example, had a thriving textile trade, then British traders duplicated the cloth and basically put the Indian textile out of business. The tea trade with China depended on hard currency from Britain because the West had few goods of interest to the East. Britain began importing opium from India to China, the Opium Wars resulted, and Britain gained control of all trade with China, a lucrative endeavor. Also, wars of domination persisted throughout Asia as Britain tightened its control and independent people resisted. In many cases, independence from Britain would only happen in the mid-twentieth century (and some of those struggles continue, notably the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and difficulties in the Middle East).
1:54 am
So fitting to be able to make the connection between your two destinations’ histories. I didn’t know the East India Company still existed!
5:01 am
Matt: As a historian, I am amazed at the connections between my India experience and my “vacation” in the UK. Every museum has some connection to the Empire, which is no surprise really. Then I reflect on what I saw in the Indian schools and realize that the entire educational system is a result of the British Raj, trade, and a long series of wars, predating even the British. Those connections are not so clear with American education. —Bill