PJs Covent Garden: Dining as it Used to Be.

In a trip which was heavy on foodie delights and new dining experiences I have to tell you about the one which really stood out. I’ve been saving it until last because, well, it deserves its own post!

On a personal note, this London trip was the first time that my sons and I had been all together in pushing two years, so it was always going to be special for me on that account. The last time we’d all been in London together was in the early 90s, and that was a holiday to remember – the first time the boys had romped through crisy, golden, fallen leaves in the parks; thrill of visiting the wee Nickelodeon Studios in Trocadero Centre; first meal in Chinatown; the enthralling Museum of Natural History and the Imperial War Museum, and the trip on the open-top bus pointing out the famous sites known from movies and TV…….in other words, much of the usual tourist stuff!  By now we all know London better, especially Guy, of course, and it was Guy who decided our farewell meal would be at PJs in Covent Garden.

Covent Garden looking festive already

We were eating quite early because Austin was flying out the next morning, so we booked. PJs is famous amongst theater-goers as the place to go before or after a show, so eating early didn’t mean avoiding crowds. Covent Garden is a fine area to stroll around before or after a meal, even if you aren’t going to the theater, and especially at this time of year. The Christmas decorations had gone up, buskers were performing outside the main entrance, and inside was all good-humored hustle and bustle, as tourists snapped photos, locals began their annual festive shopping and an impressive lady sang her heart out in the South Courtyard.

We approached PJs in high anticipation, and ducked inside out of the Autumn chill to a warm welcome. I was entranced from the start. I felt as if I had stepped into a dream from my teens – the one where Frank Sinatra is waiting for me at a discreet corner table with a pristine linen cloth, and a piano tinkles in the background. We snagged a couple of seats at the bar to order drinks, and I drank in the very English atmosphere. PJs has been in this same location since the early 80s, so you know they have got the ratio of service to food to atmosphere just right!

PJs’ hot tuna niçoise

Although diners weren’t especially in formal attire, the room said, “Classy,” as we were shown to our table. Warm, wooden paneling glowed and the place had a discreet and animated buzz, not the deafening chatter and hum you find in so many restaurants these days. Conversation was easy without having to say, “Pardon?” all the time.

PJs’ Sea Bass on Cornish Crab hash

Then the menu arrived. From burgers (which looked like super-burgers) to 8-Hour Braised Rib of Beef there really is something for every taste. I’m an awful ditherer when it comes to selecting from a menu, but my decision was helped by a little bird whispering to me that the chocolate mousse was to-die-for – clearly I had to leave room for that!

PJs’ swordfish with mango salsa

In the end all three of us chose fish, Guy the swordfish with mango salsa and lobster bisque, Austin the tuna niçoise and I the pan-roasted sea bass with Cornish crab hash, to ensure that we didn’t miss out on the chocolate mousse, which was utterly, as-described, heavenly! I started with the goats’ cheese and beetroot tart …. and was well into it before I realized I’d forgotten to do the compulsory blogger thing and take a photo – so you’ll have to take my word for it! I’m not really into describing every taste sensation of a dish, so I will let the photos I did take, and the fact I’m writing this speak for the food. As for the service? Perfectly attentive and friendly without being intrusive, just as it should be!

PJs’ heavenly chocolate mousse!

This is the point where one usually says something like, “Just one thing,” or ” a minor niggle,” but, honestly I can’t think of one thing. I can only say that it will be my first port-of-call and not my last the next time I’m in London!

And not forgetting how easy getting around London was from the great apartment in Hackney which came via HomeAway.co.uk

What Happened to Britain’s Awful Food?

My very first travel memory might concern food. I am, I think, about six years old and visiting London for the first time, and I think that maybe my tastes were already running to fine cuisine. I’m sitting in Lyons Corner House with my parents, and being force fed greasy chips, which I hate, and I’m pouting and protesting that I don’t want them.

Looking back now to my most recent London visit, I  realize that my memories fall into three categories. Most important, of course, are the personal ones, time spent with family and friends I hadn’t seen in too long, and meeting new folk amongst whom, surely, there are embryo friendships – so let’s call the category “people.” Third I’ll christen “work” – that’s all the fascinating stuff at WTM, wee thrill of my first press pass and all the new stuff I’ve learned and the hopes for the future. So, what, you might ask, is in second place? It comes as a surprise to name this category “food.”

When I left the UK for warmer shores in 1987 the thing I didn’t miss was the food, which is not to knock fish and chips, steak & kidney pies or lovely pub grub, but, overall,  great food wasn’t the norm. Perhaps that’s still true to some extent, but far less I think. For one thing there are plenty of decent chains around now, as I’ve discovered in the last couple of years.

Camden Market’s food stalls. As colorful in presentation as they are in taste!

However!!! I have to declare my most recent London visit an unexpected foodie delight…..and most of it wasn’t even sit-down meals, but food grabbed whilst wandering around, like the eclectic and quirky food stalls at Camden Market, where I dithered over pork jerk, tagine, jian bing (from the Mei Mei street cart – sublime!), noodles and pizza, I finally settled on a kangaroo burger, partly out of curiosity and partly because, well, I like burgers (there are other exotic meats to choose from depending on the season, including bison and emu)…..and note to the guy selling them, whose name I sadly forgot to ask – nice chatting with you! I will definitely be back to sample another kind of burger next time in London!

Nor was my sweet tooth un-catered for – I feasted on tablet in flavors un-imagined (to my Scottish friends, never having tasted it “in situ” I don’t know how authentic it was, but it melted in the mouth and I could almost cry now thinking about it!); churros not only con chocolate but filled with dulce de leche and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar (….I did go twice, I hasten to add that not all of this was consumed in one day!); and rainbow-colored macaroons, which tasted and smelled like fresh fruits and whose slightly crispy outsides melted into a sweet, chewiness inside, which then simply disintegrated onto the tongue – now, I’ve never rated macaroons much, but these changed my mind – however, note to the lady selling them – if you’d been a bit less pushy I might have bought more and would certainly have taken photos which would have been posted all over the internet – your loss,  but your product is delicious.

And to warm the toes and wash down all that decadent consumption? What else but a seasonal cup of mulled wine or apple with cinnamon? Ah – now I truly want to cry just remembering.

But Camden Market wasn’t all! The previous weekend we had gone to a Tea and Coffee Festival on the South Bank. Big coffee fan here, so that was sufficient draw for me, so the yummy foods were a huge bonus….including my very first, ever cupcake! Can you believe that I have reached this advanced age without a cupcake ever passing my lips? The advantage is that it was all the sweeter and more appreciated for the delay, is all I can say! This festival was the third of four this Autumn, two previous being Real Bread and Cheese and Wine and the remaining one, December 7th to 9th is The Chocolate Festival! Oh that I could be there for that! But I have memories of light-as-air quiche and cookies my son declared to be “the best in the world” to feast on!

After South Bank we trotted down to Covent Garden……and more mulled wine. Cheers!!

Perhaps it’s down to the amazing ethnic mix that is now London, perhaps that mix harks back to the days of Empire and the cultural exchanges which resulted, because I appreciate that many of the foods I relished weren’t English in origin. In fact, without traveling too far I had my first bubble tea too (yummy and more-ish) and my first egg waffles in Chinatown…..at least there was plenty of walking involved in this feasting to ease the guilt!

Sitting here, feeling bloated just thinking about the deliciousness makes me want to dash down to the airport and get back to London, and I never would have thought that it would be the food which would draw me back – the city has come a long way from greasy chips!

And another nod to HomeAway.co.uk who eased my stay in London and added to my comfort!

A Little Cockney Warmth on a Cold Day

Chestnut season is approaching here in Tenerife. It’s a time which usually makes me nostalgic, remembering the sellers on the streets of London and Manchester in the England of my youth.

This year, however, my nostalgia is sated, and in all of London’s hustle and bustle I have a lovely memory of Gus, who is acclaimed by non other than Antonio Carluccio as the city’s best chestnut seller!

Gus’s stand was outside the Excel Center during WTM, but on the first two days I was rushing around like everyone else. On the third day I stopped to ask him if he would be there tomorrow – I wanted to take a snap for friends in Tenerife, but my camera was buried deep in my backpack and I didn’t want to mess about looking for it.

“Sure I will,” he said. “I’m here every day. Here, take a bag and you can pay me tomorrow.”

I protested that it wasn’t lack of money which had prompted my question, but he insisted so cheerfully that I accepted, and rushed off to nurse my sore throat. I was disappointed to arrive on Thursday and see he wasn’t there, but, sure enough, when I emerged mid-afternoon there he was on his usual corner.

I reminded him that I owed him money, though he clearly had forgotten, and we bantered for a while. He told me that he sold chestnuts at most big events, including movie premieres at Leicester Square, and that I should Google “The best chestnut seller in London” and I would find him. No Facebook page, but coming! When I bought a second bag of chestnuts, he pressed a third one on me “for my honesty in coming back to pay”……..I wonder how many folk don’t respect his kindness or forget to go back when he gives his goods away?

It was a bleak kind of afternoon, warmed by both his delicious chestnuts and his cheerfulness…..my only regret is that I didn’t chat for longer – when I checked out that Google link it made me think he would have had a whole host of stories to tell!

For my visit to WTM I stayed in a delightful apartment in Hackney supplied by HomeAwayUK. My thanks to them for making my stay so much better :=)

When You Need a Home from Home in London try Homeaway UK

I was delighted when Katrina from TourAbsurd asked me if I wanted to share an apartment with her this week in London. We’re both here for the World Travel Market 2012 (more about that another time), and this evening I am even more pleased. After coming down with the sniffles this afternoon it was soooo nice to come back to an apartment, make a hot drink and put my feet up, instead of hiding under the covers in a anonymous hotel room. How is this for comfy?

We have lacked for nothing. The apartment has full cooking facilities, including an oven…..if we had had the energy to cook it would have been easy – there is a Tesco Express three minutes walk away, and that’s just around the corner from the Haggerston London overground station. When I look out of the window in the morning, this is my view:

Yes, my friends, I DID run down there the other morning. The canal towpath is the perfect place! I’m hoping to do it at least once more before I move on on Thursday, but if anything has caused grumbles this week it has been the British weather. Still the apartment has been more than warm enough, so no grumbles when indoors!

We have to thank Homeaway UK for arranging the apartment…..whilst Katrina did all the booking she kept me informed and I know they were exceptionally helpful, checking on transport etc for us. It’s important how those touches improve a travel experience, especially in somewhere as potentially confusing as London!

In fact, I felt at home in no time at all. Whilst I do enjoy to be spoiled from time to time by hotels, staying in an apartment, especially when you are working is a much better experience. We both arrived on Thursday, and the apartment owner was here to meet us with keys. By Friday evening I felt like a local, shopping at Tesco, riding the Tube and the Overground to the manner born (or at least that’s how I felt!). I’ve never lived in London, so never really needed to travel in rush hour before…..quite the experience, and doubly crowded because of WTM apparently!

Our only problem was with the wifi, which was what Brits call ” a dongle” – a USB connection, which meant that only one person could use it at a time. Fortunately Katrina could connect via her phone, but when that went down over the weekend it proved a bit difficult. It’s a minor thing compared to the comfort of the apartment, its convenience for getting to Excel or into the City and that “at home” feeling, and, it goes without saying that sharing an apartment is much more economical than hotels. Though we are only two people, this apartment does sleep four, which would make it an extraordinary bargain so close to so much of London.

No doubt I will be reluctant to leave tomorrow, but I will have no hesitation in using Homeaway UK’s services in the future! And just to finish…….you know how crazy I am about sunrises? Here was this week’s……maybe not over the ocean and a tad early (it turned fiery pink a bit later) but still…..it was the lovely beginning of a great day!

 

 

What can you say about London?

Maybe it’s because I live on a small island, which boasts only two cities (which are so close together that really they are one) that I seem to write more about the countryside or the coast – simply, there is more coast and more mountains than there is city life. It isn’t that I don’t like cities.  Often I ache for the energy of a big city.

What’s left to say about London? Honestly, what can you say about London which hasn’t already been said?  I have friends who loathe cities, London included. Me? I love ‘em. I love cities, but in a totally different way to the way I love the mountains and the coasts.

I’m a slave to the beauty and the majesty of ocean, mountains, sky and trees, but there is  vitality and zest in cities, which comes from the rubbing together of so much humanity, the pooling of their enthusiasms and enterprise. If I go to Nature for renewal, to wind up my mind and energy, and then the city uses and drains it,  and there is a satisfaction in that being drained too.

Whilst I prize solitude in the countryside, if green spaces in the city are thronging with people I prize the variety and energy that produces also. So a walk in Hyde Park the other week, though beautiful, bursting with the new growth of Spring and easy on the eye, was filled with people too; people walking, running, skating, skateboarding, cycling, sitting, strolling, eating, reading and enjoying the warmth of the sunniest March I ever remember.

 

Look closer at the picture above. At the bottom of the wall you can see swans building a nest. In the midst of folk rambling about, kids shouting and the general cacophony of man they were serenely going about their task, apparently oblivious to all else around them.

On the other hand, in other parts of the park’s animal kingdom, not all was so serene, there was definitely some vying for attention going on!

And the warm weather brought an additional surprise for me – this is the first time in over 25 years that I’ve seen bluebells.

And whilst I was surprised that the craze for gelato seemed missing in Britain’s capital, the Mr Whippy went down a treat! Is there anything quite like it on a hot day? :=)

 

“Shaped by War” Don McCullin Exhibit, Imperial War Museum, London

Considering that I made a fairly lengthy post about the Robert Capa Exhibit at the beginning of the year, it’s disgraceful that I wrote nothing about the Don McCullin Exhibition at London’s Imperial War Museum. Entitled Shaped by War it’s a harrowing but compelling experience.

If his photos seem to have more of the horror of war about them than Capa’s, which seem more distant and more like pieces of history,  it’s because techniques and cameras had evolved over the years.  In a way, I felt as if McCullin took over where Capa left off, which is a chilling thought – that “modern” conflict has been ongoing for so long, with all its consequences, and apparently without our learning to get along. That sensation was just in my own mind, of course, because I saw the two exhibitions in the same year.  Brilliant reporters and photographers  routinely risk their lives to try to tell the real story, and many, like Capra, lose their lives doing so. 2011 wasn’t a good year for war photographers, notably Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros were killed in Libya, so this exhibit touched a topical sense of sadness as well as an historic one.

McCullin’s work is amazing and I struggle to find adjectives on account of the subject matter. How can you call a photograph, say,  beautiful when it captures  agony on a worn face? They are superb illustrations of  hurt, loss and weariness – like Capra, McCullin captures all of that in just one countenance or stance.  That he evokes emotion in his audience speaks volumes, and really the adjectives are superfluous – just go and see.

There are some more recent photos, black and white landscapes, which didn’t move me so much, according to the information he found solace in this work after a lifetime reporting wars, which I can understand. It made me wonder about survivor guilt.  For me, photographing landscapes in black and white lends a sense of  sadness, even doom, but perhaps that is what he wants to convey. I haven’t spent my life trudging around battlefields and refugee camps, so who am I to criticize?

I whole-heatedly recommend anyone who finds themselves in London to take in the exhibit, which is on until mid-April. It’s been traveling for a while now. I know because I missed it twice in England last year, so I don’t know where it goes after Londong.  That said the Imperial War Museum is always worth a visit anyway.

 

Autumn in London’s Kew Gardens: An Unexpected Treat

I was five years old the first time I went to London. Needless to say, I was terribly excited. In my befuddled, five-year-old head I thought it was some kind of rite of passage – visiting the capital of one’s country.  After the visit I would be much more clever and sophisticated…….I didn’t think in those words, of course – I didn’t know those words then – but that’s the emotion I remember.What I remember about the vacation itself are the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, and being forced to eat my chips in Lyons Corner House (it was only 6 years after the end of WW2 and seeing food wasted was still hard for my parents to accept.)

The next time I went I was in my teens…….and London was Swinging (capital S intended). It was THE place on the planet to be. It was colorful and vibrant, and intimidating to a provincial lass chasing coolness and sophistication (oh, there’s that word again, but I understood it by then).  There were several visits in those years, I remember riverside pubs, Swedish saunas, seeing imposing signs like “Scotland Yard” or “BBC” – this was real life.  There were also the Tower of London, Portobello Road Market, Westminster Abbey and Westminster Cathedral (not to be confused), St Paul’s, the Changing of the Guard – the usual tourist stuff in other words.

In my 20s and early 30s going to London was about posh weekends;  theater, shopping in Harrods, the latest movies, foreign foods you couldn’t get at home, dressing up, the 007 Bar in the Hilton Hotel (my idea of sophistication then – Ouch!)

Having transplanted my kids to a foreign land at tender ages, there came the point where a visit to London was a “must-do” on a lot of levels. By this time there were, to my horror, queues to get into the main attractions.  Still living in a sort of hicksville, I hadn’t realized just how big tourism had become back home.  So there was quite a bit we missed – it wasn’t really queuing weather.  It was a chill late October. We lapped up  movies in English (there were none available here then), we saw a couple of shows, and I discovered that museums were now entire entertainment centers, not just showcases of old stuff. I think we went twice to the Imperial War Museum (still a favorite of mine), and, of course, the Natural History Museum.  The thing which really sticks in my memory, though, is the parks, which were  breathtaking panoramas of golds, ambers and reds. It was crisp and dry, and the leaves were piled up in colorful clumps, just the way I remembered them from my childhood, and we  kicked them about, we scooped up armfuls and threw them into the air,   we fell dramatically into the heaps and we jumped on them, listening to the crackling sounds. It was one of those things you do as a child which you want to do with your own kids, a postcard from childhood.

In more recent years London has been about the London Eye, Camden Market, the London Marathon, Springtime in the parks, and it’s still about foreign foods (only the last time it was Cinnabon – well, it is foreign!) I can’t get at home and the latest movies. My Autumn trip this year, however, held a new experience, and one I can’t believe I’ve never had before. I went to Kew Gardens.

Guy took me as a surprise, so I didn’t know anything about it except that it is home to the largest collection of plants in the world, and some very attractive greenhouses, which I’d glimpsed from the air a couple of times, when my flight had been stacked, waiting to land at a London airport. I knew that it was an authority to be reckoned with – one absorbs a certain amount of information during one’s life without knowing it! It turns out that it’s a World Heritage Site, and covers over 300 acres, and it a world leader in scientific research into plant life, its consequences, history and future.  They have a pretty impressive mission statement.

Knowing very little of this, I enjoyed the outing simply as a beautiful, mellow, autumnal day.  We marveled at the beauty of orchids and waterlilies; we laughed about how plants in the Palm House, termed exotic, were perfectly normal roadside plants to us; we kicked up a few leaves too, but honestly this park is so neat and tidy there weren’t that many, although, as you can see the trees were quite spectacularly showing off their seasonal glory. We defended our picnic lunch from the very persistent Canada Geese, and we I kept a sensible distance from carnivorous flora!

I’m a sucker for history, so afterwards I read up about Kew, about how evidence from pre-history shows that there was almost certainly a settlement there, on the rich, alluvial soil by the banks of the River Thames; about how the first records of the area show it to be a huge field, which was then, over time broken down into smaller units; about how one owner, Sir Henry Capel was a fanatical gardener and began the transformations which have resulted in what we see today; and about how much of what we now see is owed to Augusta, Dowager Princess of Wales in the 18th century. That was a century which brought much exotic, new flora and fauna to Europe’s shores, as explorers and conquistadors spread out over the globe in search of society’s next talking point. In fact, the idea of botanical gardens was born then.  The Botanical Gardens here in the Canary Islands, in Puerto de la Cruz, were established as a kind of stopping off point, so that plants could be studied and acclimatized before being taken to the mainland.

There are so many sides to Kew that it must surely take more than one day to see it all, and our day was a short one – October, remember.  What struck me was how good a thing it is that folk want to spend a day looking at, essentially, beauty, in this often drab and chaotic world.  I suppose only a fraction of the people there that day were interested in the history, or in the science of what they saw, and it isn’t necessary. Just seeing, experiencing nature is enough, words aren’t always needed.

Oh, and they have a great sense of humor there too!

I can’t finish without mentioning that there was there a photographic exhibition entitled “Hard Rain” which is quite extraordinary and very moving. It’s all the more moving for being outdoors, surrounded by trees.  Hard Rain began as a project to set images to Bob Dylan’s iconic song. No doubt even Dylan didn’t realize the full impact of his words. What we were doing to each other and the environment back then seems little compared with the problems we now know we face, and the lack of concern. Because I have the book I didn’t take pictures of the exhibit, which was a bit silly, but there is a picture on the website.

One thing I know. Kew Gardens is high on my list of places to revisit the next time I go to London.  I will go armed with information about the aspects I want to see, and I have penciled it in for springtime too – it must look astounding in the spring!

Why Travel?

I’ve been home now for around 20 hours, and this is my suitcase.  It’s still where I plonked it yesterday, before I rushed off to collect Trixy when I arrived back from a three-week trip.  Am I, I wonder, reluctant to unpack it because it means the trip is over, and I need to get real again, or am I just lazy?

I’m opting for the former because I rushed around this morning paying bills and doing banking and shopping, I set the alarm and I walked along the beach with Trix, so I don’t think it’s laziness.  I’m inclined to think that I don’t want to get back into a routine.

I know this question – why travel? – is one which is constantly on our minds, and I know that probably there are at least as many opinions as there are travel bloggers (and let’s not forget that not all travellers blog!).  It’s a question which has been on my mind throughout this short trip, possibly because on the one hand I’ve had very little opportunity to travel in recent years, and on the other because when I realized that was going to be the case, towards the end of 2009, I made up my mind to take my travel attitude and apply it to the life around me.  That was a good move.  It brought me opportunities, contacts, and experiences I might have otherwise missed.

The river Guadalquivir in Sevilla, Spain

Travel brings us contrasts and comparisons, which wake up our senses and bring us out of any inertia into which the daily grind might have sunk us. In three, short weeks I took in so many different vibes; from the charm and elegance of Sevilla (in a heat wave!) to the sturdy and handsome history of York (in a finger-freezing cold snap!).

Lendal Bridge, York, England

I went from the chaos of cities like London and Barcelona to the peace of the English Lake District.

Parque Güell, Barcelona, Spain

My trip wasn’t just about seeing and doing, but also catching up with family. I’m lucky that my family lives in interesting places I guess, but one thing which occurred to me over the days I was in York and the Lake District was how little I know of places I’ve visited so often, which just re-enforces my idea that our minds should always be open to new ideas and experiences wherever we are, and however long we may have known a place.

“Interesting places” said, I truly believe that there are things of interest everywhere you go, it’s just that there are times when you have to scratch the surface of a place to find what’s underneath.

London’s marvelous Kew Gardens – my “new discovery” on this visit to the city.

Travel isn’t just about seeing something and ticking it off a list, but equally you can gain something from even a short trip. A weekend away or a day trip can qualify as travel if you approach it with an open mind; if you don’t try to do it all.For me it’s better to concentrate on one aspect or one theme, and acquire some in-depth feeling for the place.  It might turn out to be that you don’t like whatever theme you chose, or that you don’t like the place, but you will have experienced and learned.

Grasmere, English Lake District

I learned that even in the Lake District, a place I’ve known (and, of course, loved) since I was 11 years old, there is still so much I haven’t seen or known. I was unexpectedly stuck there for four or five weeks a couple of years back, in a post-Christmas January blighted by freezing rain and the darkest midday skies you can imagine – definitely not sight-seeing weather, not even for gentle drives – unless there is a purpose!  I found mine in the local bookstore (now a Waterstones) in Kendal center.  Dripping my way along the shelves in search of books to pass away the time I came across a biography of William Wordsworth, one of my favorite poets since my school days.  It was a nice, chunky book to fill my time, but it proved to be a gateway to new experience too.  Feet up on my dad’s sofa, I found myself in a world so much more interesting than I remembered from school.  It lead me to re-visit Grasmere and Dove Cottage, where Wordsworth lived and wrote some memorable masterpieces.  I knew Grasmere quite well, as a point from which to end or begin a hike, and I’d been to Dove Cottage twice previously, but I found myself looking at it all with new eyes in light of what I read. The other thing was that I remember a lot of what I read much more clearly because I visited places which re-enforced my reading, and visiting those places meant so much more because I could fit my newly-acquired knowledge to them. Even now, almost six years on, it stands out as a memory of a great visit, which could have been so much different given the weather!

Personally,  it’s exhilarating not to be in a routine too.  I know that isn’t for everyone, but I love to wake up in the morning and take a minute to figure out where I am.  I avoid routine wherever possible, but a certain amount is forced on us by circumstance, even if we aren’t slaving away at the 9 to 5.  By the same token I find myself missing somethings about my routine. I missed Trixy and our walks enormously this time, and since I started to exercise seriously (yep ….kept that one quiet, didn’t I?!) I missed the daily challenge too. Fact is it’s kind of nice to miss things.  It’s nice to have something to miss.  Would I adapt to a life of constant travel? Not sure, but I doubt it, though I certainly don’t need to feel secure in one place all the time either.

Weeping willows in Guildford – last year’s new discovery.

At the end of the day, I go back to one of my first remarks – there are as many reasons as there are travellers, and probably our reason this trip may be different from the reason we have next trip, for those of us who are not in constant motion. Whatever the “excuse” I can say that the end result is what I seek. Sitting at my desk now I feel as if my brain has taken a cold shower and emerged fresh and stimulated for whatever lies ahead. What I want is for this feeling to last (forever if possible).  You know how daredevils say that they never feel more alive than in a moment when they face death?  Well, that’s how travel makes me feel, more alive.

Yotel – like Sleeping in a Cocoon

Accommodation comes in all shapes and sizes these days, and I’ve had some variety in the little travelling I’ve done this year. I’ve stayed in a couple of “old-fashioned” hotels, those with dark and heavy woodwork, classic prints and red and gold carpets. The advantage of these is that they are predictable, and usually have good breakfasts. Also the older ones often have single rooms, which is a godsend if you’re travelling solo. In Guildford in April, I stayed in the YMCA, which was excellent. I had a private room, and it was comfortable enough for what I needed (i.e. to put my head down and shower). The breakfast wasn’t so cool, but the price was right. A couple of weeks ago in Guildford I stayed in a B & B, which was beautifully decorated, and had a private bathroom. If you were planning to spend any time at all in your room it was a great place, but since I wasn’t, and only wanted breakfast one of the two days, it didn’t work out that well at 70 pounds a night, not to mention I hurt my arm lugging my suitcase full of books up an exceptionally narrow staircase. The price had shot up from when I’d enquired in April, but I hadn’t realized! For a B & B to work for me the owners need to make me feel at home, and whilst they were formally friendly enough I still felt just a bit as if I was intruding in a private house. I cancelled a booking for later. I’ve also used  Ibis a couple of times, their prices in April were terrific,  39.50 at Gatwick and 45.00 in York, sans breakfast, but otherwise clean and basic, and, actually cheaper than the Y, and the private bathroom makes up for the no breakfast.

But, by far the most novel, cleanest, most comfortable and definitely most fun is Yotel at Gatwick Airport. I’m in the happy position of being able to write exactly what I think and feel here, so if I recommend something, it’s because I found it a really good experience.

The Monarch schedule flight which I like to take from Tenerife gets me into London at around midnight, so all I want to do is tumble into bed. When I planned my April trip I totally forgot about Yotel. Austin had used it a few years back, just after it first opened, and if I’d remembered it would have saved me time and cost of taxi fares, and probably I would have had at least an extra hour’s sleep……which I badly needed then, after a delay of about an hour, but then a much longer delay waiting for the baggage to appear, and an early start the next morning. This time I planned better. Even though I had an 8 hour delay it still worked out really well.

The concept is Japanese. Remember how shocked we were by those programs about the pigeon-hole sleeping accommodations for workers in Tokyo? Well, think that…..only luxurious. Creator, Simon Woodruffe, according to the group’s website, actually, was inspired by the sleeping arrangements on BA long haul, first class flight, but for me it spoke of days-of-yore train travel. I once had the hedonistic delight of travelling on the Orient Express, but, honestly, this is more comfortable, and the space is around the same size from what I remember.

This was my snug bed on the first night.

I arrived weary but uncomplaining (first rule of travel, always have a good book with you), and found that the entrance is happily located right opposite arrivals at the South Terminal. Nothing fancy about it, just a lift, which deposits you outside the glass doors of what appears to be Babylon 5. It was all prepaid, so the formalities were cheerfully over with quickly. I’d booked online. You can ring to book, but booking online is cheaper, and it’s credit card only. Within a few minutes of making my booking I’d received a text message to my cellphone, so I didn’t need to worry about printing the confirmation off, which was great the second time, because I didn’t have access to a printer.

A charming young man asked if I needed to avail myself of any of their services, which, other than the bed at that moment, I didn’t – it was 3am. He directed me to my cabin, and I wandered quietly along a corridor which made me think even more of a spaceship, and then down a couple of steps into my womb-like space.

TV right at the end of the bed

To my right was the bed (above), complete with tv (above), shelf and reading light. It looked so inviting I could hardly wait to find my toothbrush and crawl in. To my left was the bathroom, divided by glass doors which ran the length of the cabin, and with the best shower I had in all the time I was there. There was one towel, but it was soft and comfy, and so big I could have used it for a sheet.

Straight ahead was a mirror with a hook and a large coat hanger, and a folding table, and hooked onto the back of the door was a folding stool.  In other words, all you might need to overnight when travelling, or even just to freshen up and nap.  Rooms can be rented on an hourly basis.  On the inward journey I was too tired, but on the return journey I had plenty of time to check out the wifi, and it was so fast it would break the heart of anyone living here in Tenerife.  I almost cried!

On the second visit I ascended rather than descended a couple of steps to the cabin, and the bed was higher up, with a step to access it, like a bunk bed, but everything else was the same.

Not being mathematical I couldn’t figure out exactly how the layout worked, but obviously it maximized the space, and obviously my upper bunk probably fitted above a lower bunk in the cabin below or something.  Whatever, it’s very clever.  The only thing which worried me was that given this design it might be noisy, but I didn’t hear a thing the entire time, so obviously it is well sound-proofed (unlike some hotels, or even my apartment at home!)  It was also a delight to find the temperature was perfect, unlike the hotels I’d used, where they always seem to assume that one needs to feel as if one’s being cooked for Sunday lunch.  There was a control, but I didn’t need to touch it.

The staff were friendly and gave every appearance of being willing to be helpful, had I needed it.  Shampoo is provided and there are lots of power points, so you can charge up your phone and dry your hair whilst you’re online if you like.  There is room service, but I’m afraid I didn’t check it out, tempted as I was to curl up in that inviting space with a huge bowl of popcorn and a Jack Daniels, and watch t.v.    I paid 59 pounds for a standard room for the length of time I stayed.   A couple of days afterwards I got an email asking if everything had been ok, which was a nice touch.

The two nights I spent there were easily the two best night’s sleep I had on the trip, but mostly it was fun.  I felt like a kid again, especially on the second visit, as I climbed into my personal cocoon.  Maybe that’s why I slept so well, I don’t know, but I do know where I’ll be sleeping over on future visits.

Overall assessment:  it was fun, comfortable and it all just seemed so easy, stagger off the plane and into bed almost, or on the return, a great wake-up shower before setting off, instead of arriving by train or car all hot and sweaty and already stressed out.  It’s almost a Zen experience!

As well as Gatwick, there are Yotels in Heathrow and at Schipol in Amsterdam……and they are creating one in the heart of New York too.   Check out their website:

https://www.yotel.com/

My Initiation into the World of American Football

I had the haziest notion of the rules of American football, I know a bit more now, but not enough, since watching the 49ers – Broncos game at Wembley stadium last Sunday.

One of the things I love about America is the razzmatazz which goes with sporting events or holidays, the way teams are celebrated with joy and fun, and, to the best of my knowledge, very little violence, unlike some sports we could mention.  I love the way everyone joins in and dresses up for whatever it is.   I know it’s all about marketing, but people have to make a living, and we can’t all be t.v. stars, politicians or tech experts, so some of us have to make the shirts and caps and other paraphenalia that the rest of us buy to celebrate our teams (and, yes, I know that that “some of us” are probably in China these days!) .  ’Nuff said, I just love it all, so I was going, largely, for the experience overall rather than the sport itself.  When you think about it, that combination of American razzle dazzle and British organizaton was going to be a winner!

And WHAT razzmatazz there was, imported, I presume by the teams, or do soccer matches begin this way these days, with fireworks, cheerleaders and the big build up which peaks in a bubble of excitment when the game actually starts?  I’d heard on t.v. that Jeff Beck was playing the National Anthem (UK one, the US one was sung by a Destiny’s Child), which had also excited me, but it wasn’t like Hendrix revamping the Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock, it was just a guitar playing God Save the Queen, by then I was angsting for the game to begin.

To my surprise, I came away converted, and am still a little unsure how it happened.   My impression was that it was a game which kept stopping and starting all the time, and I expected two minutes of action followed by around five minutes of boredom, but I don’t ever remember a sporting event going more quickly for me!  I was lucky to have Guy explaining things all the time, and now I am trying to go over it all in my head to remember for next time!

I’d chosen the Broncos because a friend supports them, and I was glad because this counted as a home game for the 49ers, meaning all the marketing was in their favor, flags, band, cheerleaders, mascots etc, and I so love to cheer on an underdog.  Not that the Broncos played like underdogs in the first half – I really thought we were going to win, and I was surprised to realize that I was on my feet cheering at one point without even remembering standing up!……and I wasn’t following Guy’s example because he was getting food at the time!  The second half turned the tables, however, and the 49ers ended up winning.  Pity the poor guy whose back you see in the photo above, who was a 49ers fan, shortly after half time he disappeared.  I presume he’d given up and left!

Since I’ve never been to a football game before I can’t make comparisons, and I can’t say how Wembley compared in the razzmatazz stakes.  It wasn’t quite the experience that my first baseball game was last year, but I think it did well.  Leaving the tube station and walking up to Wembley I realize is quite an iconic kind of experience for an English person, but not one that was on my bucket list.  I was more put out by the fact I couldn’t buy a Bronco’s cap than impressed by the sight in front of me!

Leaving was awesome.  I have no idea how many people are accommodated in an average soccer stadium, but to be part of 84,000 people exiting a venue at the same time is a new experience for me, and I have to loudly applaud the police and organizers and maybe architects for it being a good one.  Like streams running into a great river, as I looked back at the stadium, I saw people moving down the stairways and onto the main walkway.  It felt like being a part of a river as we shuffled along, coming to a complete standstill every so often.  After a while, we found out why we kept stopping, when we saw police horses ahead.  These animals are beyond description.  They stood there quietly and patiently, allowing passing people to pat them, and never flinching more than an ear.  Soon after we passed, on command they turned, so that they formed a barrier between us and the people further back, halting them until the way ahead was clearer.  This happened again further down the road.  What a brilliant and easy way of crowd control, but I should also mention that this was a great crowd, made up mainly of Brits, but with a hefty US contingent, of course,  and a smattering of other nationalities, and all good-natured and non-complaining.  When we got to our train we found seats easily, although it was standing room only by the time it left a few minutes later, but not packed.  I am just very, very impressed by the whole organization and preplanning for an event like this.

I also have to chose a team to cheer for now.  Guy’s team is the Greenbay Packers, and I need to chose a team which has a significance for me!  …..  off to check them out!