A Needle in a Market

A couple of years ago I was lucky enough to visit Japan with a group of Japanese embroidery friends and my lovely hubby. The despoke tour was arranged for us by Gill Clay who also served as our tour guide while we were there. As well as a few of the countries' vast array of cultural and historic delights, our tour was taylored to our interest in textiles and included visits to some places that we had specificly requested. We had a very full intinary.

© Carol-Anne Conway

We were based in Kyoto and many of our visits were based in and around this ancient city. One such trip was to the Nishiki Market. The oldest, and most famed, part of the market is a long narrow shopping 'street' that specializes in food and is a great place to explore some of Japan's culinary delights. This lively part of the indoor market is what Gill had taken us to see but we knew that beyond "Kyoto's Kitchen", within a part of the market that had been modernised, and whose shops were more akin to western shopping centres, lie hidden a glimpse into yesteryear and an absolute gem as far as we were concerned. When Gill let us of the leash to expore the market for a couple of hours, a few of us set of to find Sanjo-Honke Misuyabari - the needle shop.

© Carol-Anne Conway

One of our group, Dee, had learnt of the needle shop from a post on the blog JustHungry. This post provided a good description of how to find the Misuyabari shop but, unfortunately, we had neglected to take this information with us on the day we visited the market, we had to rely on our memory of the blog and our inginuity to reach our goal. We searched for some time and were on the point of giving up when a flash of inspiration from Maggie lead us to the prize. We knew that we were in the vicinity and Maggie had spotted a shop selling traditional knives; she asked them where we would find the needle shop and they furnished us with directions. As it turned out we were standing virtually next to the small and inconspicusious allay way that lead to a small Japanese garden and there, in this oasis of tranquility, was the even smaller traditional store that is Misuyabar.

© Carol-Anne Conway

© Carol-Anne Conway

The shop is tiny, consisting of one counter and some shelves along one wall, but the contents of the shop are enough to make the heart of any needle(wo)man race. Needles - hundreds of needles beautifully arranged in the glass counter - and pins - exquisit little pins - and gorgeous wooden sewing kits. Everything a needle(wo)man could desire. Had we had the resources, I think that we would have purchased the entire contents of the shop. However, we could not initially see the items for which we had made this pilgrimage - hand-made embroidery needles. Luckily, Denise had come prepared with some sample needles and when she showed these to the gentlemen behing the counter they reached below the glass cabinet to retrieve the tray containing our quarry.

© Carol-Anne Conway

When we went our seperate ways, we had agreed a time and place to rejoin Gill and the rest of the group and we were aware that our time was rapidly running out but this was an experience not to be rushed. And besides, the gentlemen were not to be rushed; each item that we purchased was lovingly wrapped and labelled for future identification. I should perhaps mention that the gentlemen spoke no English and we speak no Japanese so the entire transation took place through a series of jestures, hand signals, smiles and squeels of delights.

© Carol-Anne Conway

I find it hard to express how much I enjoyed my holiday in Japan - every moment was a highlight - but this little excursion to Sanjo-Honke Misuyabari is one of my most treasured memories.

Here is a link to the post on JustHungry that describes how to reach the shop and has some lovely pictures. Here is a link to another blog post that describes their visit to the shop and has more lovely pictures. Happy Harikuyo

p.s. We had a second, unplanned, needle adventure in Japan. We visited an embroidery house in Kanazawa where a few of us took part in an embroidery workshop. I'm not entirely sure how it came about but the proprietors of the embroidery house arranged taxis to take us to their needle suppliers who were closed that day but agreed to open there store especially for us. When we arrived, we were a bit perplexed to find ourselves at a fishing tackle shop but, sure enough, they did stock hand-made Japanese needles in a range of sizes and were more than happy to sell us some. As at Misuyabari, the proprietors spoke no English (or so we thought, wait for it) so the transaction was conducted through the now familiar jestures and smiles. When we left the store and climbed back into the waiting taxis one of the gentlemen ran after us calling "Where from? Where from?" "England" we called back as we waved good bye. I had visions of them in the local sake bar that evening telling their friends "You'll never guess what happened today - a group of English ladies came into the shop and bought our entire stock of needles". And I can hear their friends saying back "Ha! You and your fisherman's tales!".

The Rijksmuseum Revisited

As my sister-in-law lives in Amsterdam, J and I have become regular visitors to the city. One of our favourite passtimes while there is visiting the many and varied museums. The first museum we visited, back in 2001, was the world renowned Rijksmuseum. I have only a vague recollection of that visit – a stunning collection of art and history, housed in an over-crowded (in terms of display cases and cabinets) maze of dark and dingy rooms. There was far too much to take in in one visit and a return was always on the cards but a year or so later the main part of the museum closed for renovation.

I’m not sure how long the renovation was expected to take but I do know that it has dragged on far longer than was originally planned – and cost considerably more! The project was delayed by one thing after another: building the new metro line caused problems; a prolonged argument over the passageway through the museum ensued (the citizens of Amsterdam won and the passage remains open to pedestrians and cyclists); and seemingly more mundane matters like the colour of paint used in the galleries delayed progress. Finally, in 2013, the renovated, restored Rijksmuseum re-opened to the public.

The Atrium
© Rijksmuseum

The Rijksmuseum, which from the outside has a look of a fairy-tale castle about it, first opened in 1885. It was designed by the architect Pierre Cuypers. Over the course of 125 years much had been added or altered and the building was in need of a radical makeover. The head architects for the renovation were Antonio Cruz and Antonio Ortiz of Seville. Their brief was to strip out the later additions, restore Cuypers’ original layout and ensure that it was once again a coherent space. The challenge was to combine the grandeur of the building with the modern technology required to preserve and best display the art. What they delivered was a completely new and magnificent museum.

The Great Hall
© Rijksmuseum

Jean-Michel Wilmotte, who designed the interior of the Musée du Louvre, was responsible for decorating and furnishing the galleries. He designed display cases, lighting and plinths to fit naturally with the old building. The colour scheme, which was hotly debated, was inspired by Cuypers’ original palette. The interior has a very modern feel but one that blends beautifully with the fabric of the building.

The Library
© Rijksmuseum

A small annex of the museum has remained open while the rest of the building underwent its transformations and we have seen several 'special collections' but I have been eagerly anticipating the reopening of the main building. The reinvented Rijksmuseum is stunning. Two inner courtyards which were added post WWII have been transformed into a two-part atrium below and linked by the afore mentioned passageway. High above our heads a white metal ‘cage’ cleverly reduces the noise levels while letting light flood in from the glass roof and allows glimpses of the architecture. I felt a rising sense of excitement as we climbed the main staircase to the great hall. From here, there is an unbroken view (if you discount the hordes of visitors) through the double glass door and the 'Gallery of Honour' to Rembrandt’s "Night Watch" rehung in its original position at the centre of the building.

The Gallery of Honour
© Rijksmuseum

Given the crush in the main gallery, we followed the suggested route through the minor galleries before returning to view the paintings 'of honour' and finally pushing our way through the crowd to get a closer look at the "Night Watch". Information cards are provided throughout the museum to give a more in depth look at some of the key exhibits. One surprise for me was the library where the original design and ornaments have been preserved and, for the first time, is open to the general public.

Everyone wanted to see the Night Watch

The museum is still crowded but now it is with visitors enjoying the light and airy galleries. Only (only!) 8,000 of the museums 1,000,000 items are on permanent display tracing 800 years of Dutch history 1200-2000 AD in 80 rooms. It is a 1.5 km walk through all of the galleries but, giving the crush of visitors, don’t expect to go at more than snail’s pace. They anticipate between 1.5 and 2 million visitors per year and I think 1 million of them were visiting the same day that we were there. You still cannot take it all in in one visit but it is a museum that I will gladly revisit!

A City Break in Madrid (well, near Madrid!)

2013 was not all bad, some good things happened too! In September The description of the hotel said that it was located close to the historic centre with many restaurants, cafés and bars nearby. And so it was – just not close to the historic centre of Madrid! As it turned out this was a happy accident because Alcalá de Henares (Citadel on the river Henares), provided a lovely setting for a late summer mini break.

Calle Major, Alcalá de Henares

The historic centre of Alcalá is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and justifiably so. The area surrounding Cervantes Square has been largely preserved. The main street, Calle Major, is the longest porticoed street in Spain and remains essentially medieval even though it houses buildings constructed anywhere between the 1st and the 19th centuries. One house of particular interest is the birthplace of Miguel de Cervantes, author of The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha. Of course, I have heard of Don Quixote but did not know the name of the author much less where he was born and we probably would have walked right past the pretty 16th century house without a second glance had it not been for two brass statues on a bench outside. Even before we noticed the brass book on the bench we had commented that one of them looked like Don Quixote. The house, an intriguing mixture of Roman design and Moorish decoration, was more of a museum to 16th century living but it did contain a collection of Don Quixote works translated into various languages.

Don Quixote statue

Alcalá also proved to be a good base for visiting Madrid (our intended destination). The local bus service was frequent, reliable and very reasonably priced. The bus journey took a little over 30 minutes each way. We actually spent quite a lot of time sitting on buses; in addition to visiting Madrid twice, we transferred to and from the airport on the bus and toured Madrid on the Hop-on, Hop off Tour Bus. There were two separate tour routes; we purchased a two day ticket and did Route 1 one day and Route 2 the next (we’re adventurous like that!).

When not sitting on buses, we spent much of our time sitting at the afore-mentioned restaurants, cafés and bars. Food and drink was predictably expensive in Madrid but was much more reasonably priced in Alcalá. Regardless of expense I could not resist the culinary delights on offer at Madrid’s answer to Oxford’s Covered Market, Mercardo de San Miguel. The cast iron and glass building is a visual feast as well as a Smörgåsbord of tasty morsels and I wish I had foregone breakfast that day so that I could have sampled more.

Unlike most of our holidays, where we rush around trying to see and do as much as possible, there was something about Alcalá that compelled us to just relax and take it easy. Or maybe it was the unseasonably warm sunshine … or the abundance of good food … or the abundance of good wine!

Amsterdam Light Festival

We were lucky enough to catch the final few days of the Amsterdam Light Festival.  We took a stroll along the Amstel enjoying the contemporary light sculptures.  It seemed that all of Amsterdam had turned out to see the Festival before it ended.  It was difficult to see some of the installations for the crowds but it was a delight to see the families and especially the way the children interacted with the sculptures.

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Gone with the Wind

We had allowed one day between the flight and the first day of class to rejuvenate. One thing that we wanted to do, if we were not too exhausted, was visit the Margaret Mitchell House. This turned into more of an adventure than we had bargained for! I had looked up the location on Google maps and it said that Peachtree Street was a mere 2.8 miles from our hotel. What it failed to say was that there are at least 3 Peachtree Streets in Atlanta!

When our taxi arrived he didn’t know of the Margaret Mitchell House and his sat-nav was not working but he thought that he knew where Peachtree Street was. When we had travelled about 10 miles we asked if he knew where he was going; he assured us he did. After about 20 miles we were very concerned and asked if he was certain he knew where he was going; again he assured us that he did. After 30 miles we asked him to stop the taxi. After some discussion he agreed to telephone the Margaret Mitchell House and confirm that he was headed in the right direction. He said that everything was fine and we would be there soon. Finally we pulled up outside a smoked glass building surrounded by skyscrapers in Downtown Atlanta. Sue and I looked at each other and simultaneously turned to the driver and said this is definitely not the right place. At that point we said just take us back to our hotel, we’d had enough. Dave, the taxi driver, was adamant that this was the right place; he didn’t want to take us back to the hotel and for us to have had a wasted journey. He redialled the house and after a short conversation drove around the block to the back of the smoked glass building. There in the shadow of the skyscrapers was the turn of the century house where Margaret Mitchell had lived and wrote "Gone with the Wind”.

We enjoyed the tour of the house. The guide gave us a great insight to Margaret’s life and her work. I was very interested to learn that Margaret had tried to make the book as historically accurate as possible but also to tell the tale from a female perspective. Women are all too often lost in the retelling of history. Historians, mostly men, have tended to document the battles and politics of history, both of which were dominated by men. I have recently read two books by Philippa Gregory (ok, I’m trying not to get too feminist about this but spell checker does not recognise Philippa as a correctly spelt word, instead it has offered me Phillip, Phillips, Philip, Philips and Philippe – Microsoft please note that WOMEN do exist). I have always enjoyed historical novels, especially those that at least have one foot in reality. "The White Queen" and "The Red Queen" (both by Philippa Gregory) are about the maternal and paternal grandmothers of King Henry VIII, I thoroughly enjoyed both of them. Visiting the house has made me want to read "Gone with the Wind" but looking at the size of that book and knowing how slowly I read, maybe I will just watch the film again.

Happy Stitching

Alice in Oxford

I'm very behind with my blogging, this is from 2 weeks ago!

The redecorating of the hall is in progress and currently a complete mess. The things that normally live in this area are strewn around the house, as are the decorating materials. I’m totally fed-up with the mess and muddle. The sooner the task is finished, the better. Despite the glorious sunshine last weekend, we agreed that the best thing to do would stay be to home and get on with it - so we went out to enjoy the beautiful Spring weather.

We parked just outside the city centre and walked to the start of our ‘walk’. Our route took us over Magdalen Bridge, were we paused to look over the parapet expecting to see the punts, but instead we found these rowing boats. They are very pretty but the punts are more traditional.


We continued down High Street but turned into the still cobbled Merton Street. Because the entrance of the road was closed to vehicles, this normally quiet road was virtually deserted (a vintage bus bringing guest to a wedding and a couple of disable badge holders were given access). Before we reached Blue Boar Street, we could hear the unmistakable sound of Morris dancers. There were several troops taking it in turns to dance while the others watched and enjoyed a glass of beer. It might have been fun to join them for a while, but we have seen Morris dancing many times and we had different plans for the day. We weren’t exactly late but we didn’t have time to linger.


We knew roughly were to go, but we wanted a get a guide leaflet to finalise our route and gain more information about what to look out for and I knew just the place to find one.


I don’t know if it is always this popular, or whether the recent release of Tim Burton’s film has generated new interest, but the little shop was packed with tourists. We quickly found what we wanted and set off our tour.

Incidentally, see the window above the red door and windows of Alice’s shop, behind that window is the very table where I proposed to my DH.


We retraced our steps up St Aldate’s to Tom Gate, the main entrance to Christchurch College, only to find that there is no public access via this gate and had to retrace our steps again, down St Aldate’s, to the gates to Christchurch Meadow then through the War Memorial Garden to the visitor’s entrance.




Sadly, the Great Hall was closed for a private function so we were not able to see Alice’s window but we did get to see the wonderful vaulted roof of the stone staircase which leads up to the Great Hall. Although the staircase is 16th century, the roof was added 150 years later. Many scenes of the Harry Potter films are shot in Christchurch College and it is on this staircase that Harry and his new friends are greeted by Professor McGonagall on their arrival at Hogwart’s.

From this angle, I think the columns and ceiling look like giant toadstools!


There are two Alice related things to see in the Cathedral, both stained glass windows. In the top right hand panel of the St Frideswide window (St Frideswide is patron Saint of Oxford) there is a depiction of the Binsey Treacle Well which will crop up again at the end of our tour.


To the right of the alter is the Edith Liddell memorial window. This window depicts St Catherine; her face is said to be a portrait of Edith, sister of Alice Liddell.


Tom Quad (the Great Quad) is the biggest quadrangle in Oxford.


Lewis Carroll’s rooms were in the upper floor in the corn of the quad to the right of Tom Tower.


As we were leaving Christchurch College, a custodian spotted our Alice Pamphlet and engaged us in conversation. A self confessed aficionado, he told us many things about Lewis Carroll that we had not heard before. I knew his real name is Charles Dodgson, but not that his pseudonym is derived from the Latin for his own name, Charles Lutwidge (even though I knew that my own name is derived from the name Charles!). I knew that Alice was modelled on a real person (Alice Liddell) but not the most, if not all, of Dodgson’s characters are based on people he knew. The Dodo is himself (Dodgson had a speech impediment that made it difficult for him to say his surname, so he referred to himself as Dodo. The Mad Hatter was based on a local hat maker who had a habit of sticking bills into his hat band so as not to misplace them but would promptly forget he had place them there and would search frantically for the lost bill. In Through the Looking Glass, Alice is in a shop owned by a Sheep. This character is based on a shopkeeper with a bleating voice. The shop, 83 St Aldate’s is now Alice’s Shop were we began our tour. The three sisters who live at the bottom of the Treacle well are the Liddell sisters; Lacie (an anagram of Alice), Elsie (LC, Lorina Charlotte) and Tillie (Edith’s pet name). How wonderful it would have been to tour the college with the custodian but he was on duty at the exit and we were running out of time.




We returned to our car via Merton Walk and the lovely Christchurch Meadow, then drove to our final destination, the Treacle Well in St Margaret’s Church yard, Binsey. Treacle is a medieval term for healing fluid.


Susan, of Plays with Needles is currently stitching an Alice in Wonderland block. Seeing her work reminded me that Alice was conceived in my home town and inspired to go and seek her out. I hope that you have enjoyed this short tour of Alice's Oxford.

Probably the Best View on the Island

We'd spent the morning searching for a cave.

In fact we had looked for it the previous day but had given up and gone to the beach when someone told us that the cave was extremely difficult to find and definitely could not be accessed from this side of the hills. Unwilling to accept defeat so easily we had set out early to find the remote village of Giri and resume our search. Following some sketching directions from the owner of a local Taverna we drove causiously along the gravel track he'd discribed as a 'not very good road' until the surface deteriorated to a state unsuitable for our hired Hyundi i10! We continued on foot marvelling at the complete lack of man made sound. The Western side of Zachynthos is more sparsely populated than the east and we were about 3 kilometers from the nearest habitation. There was no farm machinery to be heard, no music from the tourist resorts, not even the faint hum of a distant road. Only the the gentle buzzing of insects, the occasional rustle of grass as a lizard darted away and intermitent bird song accompanied us. As soon as we crossed the summet of hill sounds of the farming community 600 meters below drifted up to puncutate the stillness; a dog barking, cocks crowing, the creaking and clanging of a tractor.

At the end of the track we found the foot path that wound its way down the steep hillside to our elusive cave. We might have been exhilerated at meeting our objective had we not been so underwhelmed by the cave itself. To be honest, that was not unexpected; this is not the first time we have spent hours searching for a cave that turned out to be little more than a small hole in the side of a hill and nor do I expect it to be the last.

Travelling back to our resort by the road that the previous day we had been told did not exist, we saw a sign for a taverna boasting the best view of the island.

Now we are sitting on a terrace that seems to be suspended above the roof tops of Agios Marina. To the north of the island Kefallonia is clearly visible, as is Laganas Bay in the south. Beyond the ancient bell tower in front of us are acre upon acre of olive groves, beyond them the sea shimmering in the bright afternoon sunshine, and beyond that the purple mountains of mainland Greece just showing against the purple haze of the horizon.


The tavern's boast may not be exagerated, this may well be the best view of the island. After our hot, dusty trek our plate of calamari is possibly the best in the Mediteranean and the cold beer we are drinking is probably best in the world.

Honeymoon - day 4, continued

In the morning we would have a little time to explore the streets around our hotel and see a less touristy side of Paris but this evening was effectively the end of our visit and we wanted to do something special. We reserved a table with Bateaux Parisiens for dinner and an evening cruise on the River Seine.


From the moment we were greeted and shown to our table, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience. Every option on the menu was a temptation and the dishes we selected were beautifully prepared and presented. A singer and three musicians provided musical accompaniment during the meal and dance music at the end of the cruise. As the evening slowly gave way to darkness and Paris is illuminated, the River is the most romantic setting imaginable.


The cruise departs from its moorings just below La Tour Eiffel and sails through the city towards Notre Dame, then passes on the other side of the island to begin the return journey. Before docking we passed by the Île des Cygnes to view the Statue de la Liberté and La Tour Eiffel. The cruise lasts approximately 2 ½ hours but it is sedate and unhurried.

As we walked back to our hotel, we paused to watch the Tower’s glimmering light show - a spectacular finale to the evening.


Merci et au revoir, Paris

Honeymoon - day 4

During the day, we spent our time hopping on and off the Metro for a whistle stop tour of central Paris.

First stop, Notre Dame de Paris.




After joining the wrong queue we found ourselves viewing the interior of the cathedral instead of climbing the towers. We should have know better as we has also joined the wrong queue at Versailles! After viewing the interior we decided we had had enough of queuing for the time being and gave the 2 hour tower queue a miss.

Jon wanted to see the Basilica. We found our way to Basilica on the Metro but, at street level we could not find our way to The Basilica. A short conversation at the Tourist Information office revealed that nothing (other than a few stones on the platform) remain. Only this column serves to commemorate its existence.


Moving swiftly on as we don't want to be late for this evenings reservation.

We didn't have time to tour the Louvre Museum but as we were passing on the Metro, I insisted that the get off to at least see it.




Back on the Metro, heading for Station Charles de Gaulle and lost in conversation.

Me: "Were are we?"
Jon: "Not sure."
Me: "Charles de Gaulle!".
Jon: "This is our stop, quick."
Me (as doors are closing): "Too late!"
Fellow passengers: good humoured laughter.
Fortunately the next stop was not far from our destination, L'arc de Triomphe.

We had seen the Arch on our first evening but Jon wanted to climb to the top, especially as we had not been up the tower of Notre Dame.

Fortunately, the queues here were not too long as we were running short of time. However, there are 284 steps to climb and I had hurt my knee when I fell over on the first day (I don't think I mentioned this before).


But the views were worth it. From here I think you possibly get the best idea of how Paris arranged.



And you get a really good impression of how la tour Eiffel towers above this city.


Going down was more difficult than going up and I got a real sense of virtego.


At the bottom we paused to appreciate the architecture.


And those who have fallen in war.


We had planned to be back at the hotel by 5.00pm to get ready for the evening. Now it is already 6.00pm. We really must hurry to be there on time for our evening reservation.