Today I fly back home. It’s been an interesting few days here. I was saying to my friend yesterday that London needs an entire month to truly be seen properly. Similar to Johannesburg there is just way too much to see and do and 5 days here hasn’t truly done it’s wonder any justice.

I’m feeling even worse than yesterday and as I had to check out of the hotel this morning I unfortunately couldn’t go work the lunch shift at Corrigans however the chefs had invited me back to take photo’s and see the lunchtime setup. With my uniform still dirty from last night I wasn’t allowed to do any work and sat back and observed again.

Last Tour

I then did a last tour around London on foot and via the busses just to say a last hurrah before leaving. I went to Trafalgar Square again and this time did the tourist thing and sat on the vast steps of the National Gallery staring at the weird and wonderful faces passing by…and then two street musicians setup shop right in front of me and started belting out Beatles songs. Seemed pretty appropriate considering the scene and location. Although I rather enjoyed the little concert it seems the rest of the crowd didn’t and the duo moved on to another location whilst I made my way into the Gallery to see what the fuss was all about.

Although full of people the gallery was so large one could spend hours standing in one spot and not get bumped. I walked through sections holding Rembrandts and other famous artist’s paintings. Some life-size representations of the people depicted, I had to step back to see the whole painting on more than one occasion. I couldn’t help but think back to the Da Vinci Code and wonder if I’d manage to walk out the gallery with a painting…hmmm. On second thoughts the idea of being arrested in London and spending time ‘at her Majesty’s leisure’ didn’t seem as glamorous as finding the holy grail.

I spent a good 3 hours inbetween the walls of the gallery and it’s hundreds of centuries-old paintings. How something painted almost 400 years ago can still look so fresh I can’t imagine. I then proceeded to Piccadilly to that huge British souvenir store I’d seen on Day 1 to do some shopping for friends and family back home. I was still amazed at just how big the store was and to only be selling souvenirs and memorabilia of London and Britain in one of London’s most famous locations still boggled my mind. We don’t have anything even remotely similar back home, not even at the Kruger Park or Cape Town. (Note to self: send SA Tourism a long snooty email about jacking up their operations). After filling my bags with everything small enough to squeeze into my suffering suitcase and laptop bag I headed back to the Underground.

Having already checked out of the hotel at 9am I made my way back to Paddington from London central for the last time. Unlike when I had first arrived I now felt like a local taking the tube back home. In 5 days I had come to appreciate the convenience and anonymity that is London’s public transport system, anything and everything is a bus, train or taxi away.

At the hotel I picked up my luggage and dragged my significantly larger suitcase with me towards Paddington station. I soon found my way to the Heathrow Express, double checking I had my ticket in my pocket, getting stranded with no more English pounds and no ticket inbetween Heathrow and London was not part of my plans.

15 minutes later I arrived at Heathrow. I made my way to the relevant terminal and stood in a queue like every good South African has been brought up to do…once again, similar to my experience at M&S, I was told everything was electronic and that I must check myself in and get my ticket printed myself. After another look of amazement I dutifully weight my own luggage and scanned my passport and printed my ticket. I stopped short of asking the airline attendant if I was to carry my luggage into the planes luggage hold myself too! Cheekiness aside I handed in my luggage and made my way up the escalators to where it seems half the world had congregated.

Now I’d heard all about the security measure in London and American airports after 9/11, little did i know just how hectic they truly are. After standing for about 20 minutes in the queue I noticed people taking belts and shoes off, I noticed people basically undressing and then walking through a detector. My cynical mind started questioning the need for a metal detector if you’ve already asked people to get half naked…and then it was my turn. “sir, belt off”. Ok, belt off, my jeans may fall off but for you Healthrow, anything. “umm, sir, your boots as well”. Are you serious? Boots are rubber and leather last I checked. “all keys, metal and anything else that’s heavy sir”. After many a sigh I walked through the ‘detector’ half the man I was before I got to the security desk. During the shenanigans of passing through security I remembered someone telling me that the detectors at Heathrow are the new X-ray ones that undressed you when you walked though. Ah yes, welcome to Big Brother territory.

Thinking I’d passed the finish line I looked up and lo and behold, Customs. More queues and beyond them a big mall. Even in such a tense environment consumerism will always be there to end the day. The lady in front of me was given the evil eye and quizzed about her passport and something or other missing from it. Ironically when compared to my experience back in Johannesburg, I was let through with a smile.

Ok, now 2 hours to kill whilst waiting to be told what time my lovely flight on Virgin Atlantic back to Johannesburg would take off. Unlike back home the boarding gate for flights at Heathrow aren’t announced until the last 10 minutes. This leads to the throng of people sitting around in the mall/ waiting area staring at the electronic monitors like sheep waiting for the farmer with their morning feed. I decided to catch up on much needed sleep…and with my medication I felt drowsy.

An hour and a bit later I woke up to see the same scene, crowds of people milling around staring at boards. I looked up at the board as well and saw my plane had been assigned a boarding gate. Awesome. Not. The boarding gate was miles away and I hated every step of it, wanting to just get on the plane I wasn’t expecting to be met by yet another waiting area, this time only for Virgin Atlantic passengers. Seems like everything about international travel involves hurrying up and waiting.

I watched the news and found out the Tories and Lib Dems had made a deal and read a magazine before finally being called up, “Economy Class passengars may now begin boarding”. Johannesburg, here I come.
I got a much nicer seat this time, thanks to Mr Roberts hustling our seat numbers whilst in Johannesburg before we left. I settled down for the 11 hour flight back home. I tried to watch a movie but failed at my attempt. Dinner, well, was dinner. The less said about airplane food the better. After the usual restlessness after take-off I settled down for the night. The next thing I remember was our plane touching down in Johannesburg at O.R. Tambo International Airport.

Apparently I coughed and sneezed throughout the entire flight though, I somehow didn’t recall much of the flight back home because of the medication I was on. At OR Tambo I was quickly ushered into a quarantine area to double check if I may be carrying any seriously contagious diseases or viruses I could spread. Ahh yes, home sweet home.

I would definitely be considering another visit to London soon, I’ve already been promised a lovely couch at my friend’s house, no need for hotels that won’t let me eat a full English breakfast! My Visa is only valid for 6 months though but if I can somehow squeeze in a week or two break I’ll be on the first flight back to see it properly and this time with a friend or loved one.
How Gary Benham and the people at visitbritain managed to pull so many strings for me to experience London and Britain in such short a time I don’t know. I did ask Gary the other day if he’d let me kiss him…and whether he likes it or not I’m afraid a pecker is coming his way!

Woke up this morning without a voice and coughing badly. The English spring time really has affected me it seems. Being in a strange country without a voice was rather interesting. I managed to get some medicine from the chemist yesterday and it seems the medicine I took has affected my memory because I completely forgot to mention that I went out to dinner and a movie with a friend of mine from London. We decided to watch a movie first. Iron Man 2 was the choice. We headed to the Odeon theatre, I’d tell you where it was but I’d probably be lying. Although I’m pretty clued up on how the bus and train system works here remembering what the places I go to are named is another story altogether.

So once again I found myself doing sums in my head when I heard that the price of ONE movie ticket was £12. I smiled when I saw my friend reach for her purse! There’d be a national strike if that was the price of movies in South Africa. So being a gentleman I paid for the popcorn and drinks. Just 2 popcorns and a coke came to £11. Yes, I shall appreciate Ster Kinekor from now one.

We didn’t do dinner as the movie came out around midnight but it was interesting to note the buzzing London nightlife. Restaurants were still busy and the streets were packed. Back home in Gauteng as soon as 5pm hits there is a mass exodus out of the city. The busses also run all day and night here in London and if you get no joy from the busses you can catch a train until around 1am.

Back to today, so being voiceless has its little quirks. A mixture of sign language and a low throaty grumble seems to work well as a means of communication. Knowing I was to work at Corrigan’s
tonight though made me decide a solution had to be found. I explained my dilemma to Mr Roberts at breakfast and it was decided that a Dr or a Chemist would need to be found.

Borough Market

We left the hotel to go visit Borough Market. Apparently something I couldn’t “leave London without seeing”. After a short train trip we arrived at a station I forget the name of. It started drizzling as we exited the tube, a perfect London farewell it seemed. A short walk away I saw the busy corner that leads to Borough Market. Mr Roberts stopped to get his daily fix of caffeine whilst I wandered around trying to figure out why so many people were walking down the small street. It was on further inspection that I realised the actual market was a place that held many wonders that would fill a chef’s dreams for night and nights.

Razor clams, lobster, scallops the size of my palm, hams, pies, vegetables, all kinds of cheese, different types of potatoes, home brewed beers, sausages…you name it and it was being sold there. I mentioned to Mr Roberts that I couldn’t leave London without having tried a pork pie. After much gasping and sighing at the price (I bought it for £3.50) I bought myself a real English pork pie. I was told to eat it cold. After a few bites I soon realised I’m not a real fan of cold pork pies. Maybe if it was warmed I’d change my mind but honestly I just couldn’t appreciate it well enough. Perhaps it was my excitement at seeing all the other produce available.

Razor Clams, Lobster & Scallops

We had a chat with a potato farmer about the different type of varieties he had and explained back home we weren’t as lucky. Our potatoes are labelled ‘baby’ and ‘large’. We tasted different cheeses as we made our way around the market. I so yearned to be a resident of London so I could do some shopping and go cook the many treasures being sold but such is the pain of being a tourist. We left the market with my rather disappointed look on my face. One day Borough Market, one day.

We then headed to Mayfair and to Corrigan’s. A rather subtle restaurant at the bottom of a hotel. Walking past an Aston Martin dealership to get to the restaurant gave testament to the type of neighbourhood we were in. We were greeted by a friendly and talkative hostess at the door who called the chef for us. Whilst waiting Mr Roberts and I walked around the restaurant admiring the deco. Although rated as one of the best restaurants in London the restaurant was very subtly decorated and nothing was over elaborate.

I was met by the chef and Mr Roberts bid us adieu. I croaked my name, he looked at me like I had just sworn at him and I was then christened ‘Jim’. I entered the kitchen area and what was to become ‘home’ for 12 hours.On first appearance the kitchen seemed small to me, having been used to the huge kitchen we have at the academy. There were just 8 chefs in the kitchen including the head chef. 2 chefs were looking after the pastry section, a small corner at the back of the kitchen, 1 chef was in charge of the vegetables, one chef in charge of sauces, another in charge of the seafood. One chef handled the meat and another the starches and the head chef took care of the plating. There were also 3 scullers who would clean the kitchen floor every 15 minutes or so and collected the dirty dishes and utensils regularly. Although small the kitchen was surprisingly clean and neat. As we were still doing prep for the dinner service the conversation was lively but the pace of completing tasks was quick.

Corrigans

I was basically a commis chef and would do whatever anyone else needed me to do. I portioned and cleaned beef, I cleaned and sorted mushrooms (very expensive ones as I was told by the chef), I sealed off some sirloin and clean lobsters. I also got to brunoise and chiffonade some vegetables for sauces. In the pastry section I helped fill some macaroons and chop chilli for one of the desserts. What struck me about the pastry section was the size of it, although isolated from the rest of the kitchen it was a small corner but the type of desserts presented were of a top class quality.

All in all we did prep for 100 pax, the restaurant is said to hold over 160 people when both sections are used at full capacity. The produce used by the chefs is personally selected by Richard Corrigan himself and it was evident in the flavour of the dishes we tasted that only the best produce is utilised. There was an alley at the back of the kitchen where all the veg was stored in large bins and 2 walk in fridges where meat and other fresh produce was kept. The chef knew how much of every single ingredient he had left and any cries of ‘chef, we’re out of…’ were received with disbelief and would be quickly met with an ‘are you sure?’ response, where upon on a more thorough search what was finished a minute ago was suddenly available.

The chef brigade was very young, made up entirely of men and I noticed that it was full of different nationalities. Due to my lack of a voice they all assumed I was French until I managed to whisper later on that I was from Johannesburg, South Africa. It was at this point that I was told about how bad our cricket team was doing in the T20 World Cup. I should have remained French it seems!
The service staff came in around 2pm and we had staff lunch/dinner at around 4pm. It was interesting to note the rather significant difference in ages between the service team. There were also different roles. Some were trainers and waiters whilst others were head waiters, there was also a sommelier and a manager. There were 2 barmen as well (the bar takes up most of the restaurant floor space actually, testimony to the owner being Irish I thought to myself). There were only 2 women on the service team making it only 2 women in the entire staff compliment on that night. Staff dinner was some really good burgers and roasted potatoes prepared by the chefs. I don’t think I’ve tasted a better tasting burger before. Although just staff dinner the chefs take pride and put effort into preparing it.

Corrigans

After eating, the service guys proceeded to get changed into their service clothes whilst the chefs went back to finish completing preparations for the dinner service. An hour later the first table arrived. As I hadn’t seen any of the plating before and since I was only there for the night I took a backseat during service. I observed and where needed I lent a hand. It was interesting watching a dinner service in a top class restaurant for 100 people. One thing I discovered was that guests were not afraid to send food back to the kitchen when not happy with their plates. I counted 5 plates being sent back through the night. It would annoy the chefs but they were always treated professionally and the problem looked into and solved.

Another unique thing that I had only seen on tv was the use of a private dining room inside the kitchen. The room is called The Lindsay Room and tonight 8 guests had booked it and it would mean all the chefs would have to be on their best behaviour.

The portions at Corrigan’s were surprisingly large. I was expecting dainty portions, the kind we’re used to seeing in a fine dining restaurant but according to the chefs, Richard Corrigan specifically aimed to keep things as hearty as possible. The products used are all sourced locally and the portions are generous.

I noticed how the once vociferous chefs were now all silent during service. No one said a word unless it was directed at the Head Chef. One unique thing I also noted was how the kitchen responded when an order was sounded. Instead of the industry standard of “yes chef!” the brigade at Corrigan’s shouts “oui!”…but with an English slant to it, it comes out sounding like “where!”. It was rather amusing to hear that the whole night.
The service guys, although very professional and polished, were regularly caught on the wrong side of the chef. Whether it be pulling of the plates on the pass of not taking care when caring the plates. A smooth process is needed between service and the chefs to keep such a large restaurant working like clockwork. I think the large numbers of trainees was starting to annoy the chef as he had to constantly yell at the service team. The fact that customers were sending some dishes back didn’t help either but at the end of dinner service all was well again.

It was eye-opening and interesting seeing just how a top restaurant works. I wish I had been there longer so I could get a chance to plate and actually work a station but someday soon…I hope. I could go on and on about the dishes I saw and the health and safety processes followed by the restaurant but I’d probably never stop writing. There was just so much I saw and discovered in that one night that a diary entry would not do any of it any justice.
As I wasn’t feeling well I managed to sneak out of the chef after service ‘sips’. I’d heard quite a lot about chef antics after service in London and I don’t think my liver nor my rather escalating fever would have been amused much.
On my way back to the hotel in Paddington I managed to get myself lost…again. The trains had long stopped their daily service and due to construction a lot of them had been shut down for the weekend anyway. Trying to figure out the busses whilst not being able to ask anyone was rather frustrating to say the least…but I made it back home, after a quick stop at Burger King, another one of Ruan’s suggested visits for me to try whilst in London. I can’t say it was gastronomically astounding but it scratched a hungry itch.

That was my 4th day, although filled with one trip and 12 hours of work it was also very interesting and probably my favourite day of the trip. There’s nothing that can ever replace the sheer educational value of what I saw and learned at Corrigan’s. As I didn’t have my camera with me I promised the chefs that I would return to take pictures and hopefully some day in the future see if the possibility of me being added to their foreign legion of chefs could become a reality. We’ll see. Good night London. Tomorrow, time for the hope over Africa and back home.

Today I woke up feeling a bit under the weather, it seems the lovely English weather is playing havoc with my rather weak South African immune system. I’ve started losing my voice and I sound similar to what Barry White must have sounded like at his prime. Nevertheless today will be another packed day of discovering London. We begin the ‘main event’ of my trip here…the food. A weekend filled with visits to the Real Food Festival, the Borough Market, Corrigan’s and a sample of the London restaurant scene.

I have now gotten used to the continental breakfast down at the hotel ‘restaurant’. No more straying towards the bacon and sausages for me! Having cold cheese and cold cuts of meat with croissants for breakfast is a bit foreign to me but when in Rome…Whilst in my room I decided to have a quick look at the options available for room service. A quick glance at ‘Fish and Chips – £6.50’ soon made me realise room service was not an option for me!

Earls Court

I was to meet Mr Roberts at Earls Court which, I was told by a friend of mine, is London’s version of what we have as The Coca-Cola Dome. Exhibitions and concerts are held there often with the most recent big ticket event being the Brit Awards. Luckily I didn’t get lost this time but the battery level on my camera was starting to worry me, (Double note to myself: NEVER forget the camera battery charger ever again). As I also didn’t have a phone yet I had to purchase a pre-paid calling card. It allowed me another chance to make use of another famed London feature…the red telephone booth. Plastered with rather ‘interesting’ adverts of ‘services’ offered by even more ‘interesting’ characters I ignored these and made my calls via booths round the corner from Earls Court. After trying 3 phones I eventually found one that worked and proceeded to tell Mr Roberts about my presence outside the building.

On entering Earls Court I was struck by the sheer size of the place. The building is rather deceptively large, from the outside it is seemingly just a concrete building, but once you enter you realise the facade of the exterior hides a huge hall which today was filled with all manner of delightful things that make us foodies giddy with excitement. The first stall I spotted (or rather was shown to by Mr Roberts) was a pen with a rather large but strangely serene water buffalo chewing away on brunch. I wouldn’t call it’s food gastronomically impressive but clearly it hit the spot as she chewed away whilst the gathering crowd stared at the animal renowned for the mozzarella cheese made from its milk. I was soon to learn her name was Petal and that she weighed in at a rather dainty 700kgs. Petal is said to eat over 50kgs of grass a day and was born 13 years ago.

Next to Petal was another pen but this one was filled with Middle White piglets. It suddenly hit me that although we were all gushing at how cute they looked in a few months they’d be supper or breakfast in someone’s home. Although the thought is rather harsh it’s a reality of the profession I have decided to enter into. Unless one is appreciative of where their produce and ingredients come from they will not give them the due respect when preparing them in the kitchen. So on that note we bid the farm animals goodbye and moved onto the Real Food as they name of the festival so proudly proclaimed.

We passed by stalls selling and showcasing homemade biscuits. Although rustic looking they were packaged professionally. That was the main note in most of the stalls on the day, every stall owner showed pride in their produce and 80% of the things we saw were organic and sustainable. Mr Roberts and I wondered aloud if our farmers and producers would be capable of such a vast array of products and ingredients that were free from biological and chemical interference. We sampled pomegranate juice that was 100% pomegranate. It was interesting to hear that the ‘pomegranate juice’ most of us buy isn’t exactly 100% pomegranate. You could taste the difference immediately.

Jersey Oyster Chef Demonstration

We then decided to head off to one of the many chef presentations that were being held every hour. The chef who was on at the time was Richard Bertinet, a famed chef from France who is renowned for his belief in ‘real’ bread. He was very funny and at the same time informative. Typically French he made little snide remarks about people cooking skills and old school ‘house wife’ methods. He used the ‘skills’ of 2 ‘volunteers’ from the audience to help him with his demonstration. One was a house wife and the other an engineer. Richard explained the concept of absorption rate of flour but said one should never add more water than what the recipe calls for, even if it feels like the dough is not right. This was news to my ears! He also showed the audience a technique of folding air into the bread dough that I had never seen before. At the same time he cooked us a fish and vegetable soup that was perfect for the weather that day. His presentation was refreshing and also educational and afterwards Mr Roberts, Alex (Mr Roberts friend from London who had joined us for the show) and I managed to get him to sign a book and take a picture.

From there we walked around the floor and found a lot of little wonders and interesting products. We stumbled upon a lady called Fiona Sciolti who makes ‘botanical’ chocolates. On further enquiry I discovered that by the term botanical she means that her artisan chocolates are flavoured exclusively with natural ingredients she forages for in the countryside. We sampled some of them and were pleasantly surprised. Alex, who recently started foraging herself, began a conversation that seemed to go on for hours with Fiona! Mr Roberts and I decided to go discover more fascinating parts of the show before time ran out and left Alex and Fiona chatting away. There were stalls selling all kinds of weird and wonderful things such as tomato chilli jam, homemade risotto balls, 100% vegan cuisine and we found a gentleman who owned a bakery that makes over 90 different types of bread. There was a parma ham, parmesan and wine tasting stall (which was quite popular for obvious reasons!) and a pesto making company who made such awesome pesto I had to buy a bottle. We saw purple potatoes that were naturally purple.

The owner of the stall said that the potatoes remained purple even after cooking and that you could makepurple mash from them. Hmmm, my chef’s hat started thinking some interesting thoughts. Thethought of purple chips killed those thoughts though. We couldn’t come to a British food showwithout sampling the local drinks of cause. I had fruit ale that Alex recommended. It was different tothe ales I had tasted before and was slightly cloudy, not dissimilar to fermented ginger beer back home. We then moved on to sample real Sloe Gin and something called Sloe Vodka. We debated which was better tasting until we realised the combination of the ales and the gin and vodka on an empty stomach was not a good idea. Back to food we agreed! We sampled giant olives the size of small limes and then we happened upon a farm stall that sold…BILTONG. I kid you not, biltong in London.

Laverstoke Park Farm

The name of the farm is Laverstoke Park Farm and we were to soon discover the reason for the strange sighting of biltong at a British food show was that the owner of the farm was Jodi Scheckter…he of Formula 1 fame and also a proud South African. The farms main produce is buffalo and they use it in everything. They had buffalo ice cream (which tasted amazing), they had buffalo mozzarella, buffalo milk (which tasted rather interesting, although related to the cow the taste of buffalo milk is an acquired one), we then moved on to what we had really come there to do…sample their buffalo burgers. Firstly let me state that although we’re known for our large portions in South Africa, the burgers they served us were quite generous. As we walked around looking for a table suitable enough to hold them people stared and made remarks such as, “woah, look at that!”.

We sat down in a tea garden where we were not supposed to but they did not mind, on sighting one of our burgers one of the attendants at the garden came and asked us where we bought them and soon ran off to get one himself! It was rather refreshing to see the term Rooibos was now being used instead of the anglicised ‘red bush’ on the tea menu. Slowly but surely South African products and cuisine seem to be making their mark overseas. We were met up by more of Alex’s friends and it was whilst sitting and chatting that Alex said decided that I couldn’t leave London without having tried a good ol’ English cream tea. I was soon to learn that the term ‘cream tea’ refers to tea being served with scones, jam and clotted cream. I had Earl Grey tea with my scone. I sliced the scone (I was told that it was the civilized thing to do) and proceeded to spread some apricot jam on it, I then opened
the tub of clotted cream and to my astonishment saw a block of cholesterol! I was told that this was perfectly safe and the civilized thing to do was to spread the cream generously over the jam and to NOT do the American thing and close it like a burger.

Being surrounded by English people I decided to follow their instructions and so bit into my scone covered in jam and cholesterol. A sip of Earl Grey and I felt perfectly English for a minute. The Queen would have been proud. We proceeded to debate the state of the British Elections and the results and soon were told it was closing time and time for us to find our way home. During our chat we were greeted by the rather short stature of one certain chef named Raymond Blanc. I tried to not act like a teenage groupie and sat as the man was interviewed a few feet away from us. I was rather surprised at how short he was, he also seemed to have injured his leg and was walking with a crutch.

Although not as busy as my previous days, day 3 was by far the most interesting in terms of food and discovering British food. The producers are passionate about their products and the industry. We spent almost half an hour
discussing milk with a dairy farmer at one stage and how different strains of cows are actually causing illness and how lactose intolerance is linked to the pasteurization of milk. They are friendly and eager to educate anyone willing to lend an ear. I couldn’t help but yearn for something similar back home, we have the farms and the passion but we just lack the initiative to bring it all together to educate the South African market on fresh, natural produce and it’s benefits.

I got back onto the Tube and headed back to the hotel to nurse my quickly disappearing voice and my even worse cough.

London Tube

Today was the 2nd day of my trip in London. I woke up rather rested, although our rooms are small they are comfortable and having stayed in many hotel rooms before I have nothing to complain about really…although hearing my next door neighbour snoring through the wall was a bit odd.

Speaking of small living areas, one thing I’d noticed with London is the lack of gardens and open spaces besides the royal parks. Something we South African’s take for granted back home. Although living in Africa’s economic powerhouse very few Gauteng residents actually stay in the city or CBD. I guess its part of the reason the transport system works so well here, back home we’re all so far apart from where we work.

So today at breakfast I decided to help myself to the rather generous breakfast buffet…only to be told by the lady in the canteen that I was only covered for continental breakfast. Hmm, rather embarrassing that. She did let me keep my bacon though. I noticed that she had an Eastern European slant to her accent, something else I’d come to realise about London in our short stay, the large number of foreigners working in it. It’s a very cosmopolitan city with people from all walks of life.

Today we went to Harrods to indulge my rather obscene obsession with food. I’d heard about Harrod’s before but I really hadn’t realised what a marvel it is. We caught the underground to get to it and we arrived literally as it opened its doors. There were already queues outside the store. Mr Roberts decided we should walk around to visit Laduree, world famous for its macaroons and pastry delicacies. On the way there we stopped at a coffee shop just to stare in amazement at the cakes it had on display. I had never seen cakes so elaborately done before. I duly took pics to dare Chef Lorraine to bake one for us at school.

Laduree Macaroons

Onwards to Laduree. Its rather discreet exterior does little justice to the wonders that lie inside. The rows of macaroons and gateau’s are impressive. I was not allowed to take pictures inside the store unfortunately but I bought 100g of macaroons. That’s about 5 macaroons…and they’re sold at £4.50. So they’re far from cheap but the taste is definitely worth the price. I bought lime, chocolate, strawberry, raspberry and vanilla macaroons. Unfortunately having had a big breakfast there was no room to fit in a sample of one of their gateaux. We didn’t do the traditional Laduree tea service either. We then headed into Harrods.

Harrods is a huge place. One departments store in one building with over 1-million square feet of retail space. The motto of the store is Omnia Omnibus Ubique—All Things for All People, Everywhere and judging by the size of the place they’re definitely trying to live up to that. We entered Harrods and immediately made our way to the food section. We passed by rooms with intriguing names such as “Room of Luxury” and rooms decked out in Egyptian themes. Each section has its own unique deco and is rather elaborate. I thought the decoration was a bit crazy but Mr Roberts seemed to love it. (Note to self, look up fancy fruit chandeliers as a possible goodbye gift to Prue Leith Chefs Academy)

Our first stop was the pastry section, truffles and various chocolates were on display. We saw glazed fruit and other weird and wonderful wonders. Being a culinary student and knowing how most of the things are made me appreciate the skill even more. Although Harrods is a department store its products are top class. I went crazy taking pictures of everything to show everyone back at school. Seeing Osetra and Beluga caviar being sold in a department store is just mind boggling. There were hams from all over the world available. Name any cheese and they had it. They had fruit I had never ever heard of let alone seen before. Something called a ‘Strasberry’ for example, something you get when a raspberry and a strawberry decided to mate. How they manage their stock levels I really wonder. All their produce was fresh and had no damage. They had deli’s selling food from everywhere you could dream of and a sushi bar and a dim sum section. I could go on and on but I would run out of space. If someone asked me if I would move to London after seeing the produce and products at Harrods, as a chef I would say yes in a heartbeat. It is a chef’s wet dream. Although over the top in parts I bow down to the genius that is Harrods.

Harrods

Before I stop with the swooning on our way out of the store I was caught by the sight of a wall filled with jellybeans. Jelly Belly must be the craziest sweet makers on earth. On closer inspection this wall I soon discovered they had jelly beans in the weirdest flavours. Once again I got giddy with excitement. Popcorn flavours jelly beans? Cappuccino maybe? How about cheesecake? Bubblegum tickle your fancy? Mango? Raspberry? Mint? I lost track of them all. Mr Roberts came round as I was ordering my bag and just shook his head as he heard me calling out the flavours I wanted. Paradise.

We went on to have tea and what Mr Roberts described as “an awesome croissant” at the cafe in the fresh produce section. The waiter was more than happy to take a picture of us enjoying our cappuccinos. We noticed how many security cameras were around. The ceiling is full of them. Trust us Jo’burgers to notice things like that. In amongst the many tourists in the store we heard a familiar Afrikaans accent pass us by, the owner of the voice was saying something along the lines of “take me out of here otherwise I’m going to finish all my money”, ahh yes, South Africans indeed.

Harrods was the place Mr Roberts and I parted ways. He went off to do what COO’s of Chef Academy’s do and I went off to do the tourist thing and prayed to the heavens that I wouldn’t get lost. Tube map in hand I found my way to the Underground again. Being on my own on the Underground for the first time without someone to say “ah yes, I know where that is” was a bit daunting at first but I eventually made use of the rather helpful signs. There is information everywhere, on the walls, on small LCD displays, in free hand-held maps and constantly over the intercom. I also soon grew accustomed to the London anthem, ‘Mind the Gap’. Speaking of interesting English ways, I found it rather amusing how straight to the point some of the signs in London are. Signs to the exit are titled “Way Out”. Straight forward. Very English.

I found the tour bus company again, safely without getting lost this time, and received my ticket for the bus tour. I sat next to a Dutch lady…she was black but was Dutch. I found that concept rather interesting somehow. One of the things that come with being in Europe is that you may never know each person’s background and life-story. Coming from a country were judgment is made of someone on facial appearance before they open their mouth I found this rather refreshing. I sat back and put my iPod on, time to see London for real.

The bus passed by Trafalgar square, this time I took many photos of Lord Nelson and the rather sad statue of King Charles 1, the only monarch to have ever been executed. He dissolved parliament not once, not twice but 3 times and ran the country as an absolute monarch for 11 years. As we all know today, don’t mess with politicians who have access to armies. He was executed in 30 January 1649. He sits alone on his horse on his own little island a few feet away from Trafalgar Square; I found it ironically symbolic that his statue is turned to face the direction of Whitehall, where he was executed. The statue of the man who beheaded him, Oliver Cromwell, is placed outside parliament at Westminster Abbey. The tour was filled with such interesting bits of information. The British truly have a vast and interesting history. On the tour we passed by the royal parks, went behind Buckingham Palace (busses aren’t allowed to pass in front of the palace) and saw the famous London landmarks such as Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, the newest landmark The London Eye, Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, the Institute of Contemporary Arts (which one man said to me is not ‘real art’). I got off at the London Eye to get my real taste of this new feature to London’s skyline.

The London Eye

Technically the London Eye isn’t that new anymore, it is now 10 years old but when compared to the buildings it overlooks which are centuries old it is still a baby. Despite this the amount of people queuing in line to get on it was just astounding. I almost turned back due to sheer shock at the sight of so many people. Along the way to the wheel I saw a lot of people taking pictures of themselves with Big Ben in the background and the Eye and the Thames etc. It was rather touristy and I remember thinking to myself I should get used to this as in a months’ time we’ll probably be going through the same thing in South Africa. There were souvenir stores at almost every corner.

I decided to brave the lines and join the queue. During my wait in line I saw a man dressed in a kilt doing a jig. Apparently he was protesting something. We toyi-toyi back home, in London they do a jig. Not so dissimilar after all huh? After being searched and having a thorough security check I was declared legal to get on. I think the attraction of the London Eye is being high above the whole of London and being able to see all the way to the Queens Country residence on a clear day. The view is truly spectacular and for people who have never been in skyscrapers high above buildings it will awe them but besides that I found the experience to have been watered down by the sheer number of people let into each capsule. One can’t move about freely enough to get a good view. Even though I had a 3d map to help me identify different features on the skyline it was rather heard to make them out. I guess it’s a bit like saying one has been to the top of the tallest building on earth, once you’re there you’re a bit confused about how you’re meant to react. I would recommend it to all my friends but I doubt I’d do it again.

After the London Eye I duly ended up getting myself lost again. I decided to peruse my ticket for the tour bus to see what it said in terms of bus stops when I realised to my glee and excitement that the tour included a free tour on the Thames! I hopped and skipped (well, something along those lines) to the Original London Tour boat tour. It was on an open top boat which had two bars on its lower deck. After just one day in London I had come to learn to say no to alcohol if I wanted to have any spending money left. The booze in London is far from cheap!

The boat took us down the Thames as we passed by the London Eye, various interesting buildings (such as The Gherkin, the local’s nickname for 30 St. Mary Axe) and historical sites and eventually to the famously unfamous London Bridge. The reason I say its famously unfamous is because I too had fallen for the age old image of the London Bridge being the bridge with the two towers on it. Even if you Google ‘London Bridge’ that image pops up. Nope. London Bridge is a non-descript concrete bridge just before the TOWER BRIDGE (the bridge most people confuse as London Bridge). I don’t
know if I was shocked or disappointed at my utter ignorance at this fact. I always rip of Americans for thinking Africa is a country and not taking time to read a little…when all my life I’d believed the Tower Bridge was London Bridge! I was glad to find out from the tour guide that a wealthy oil-billionaire from Texas named Robert P. McCulloch bought the old bridge before it was reconstructed in 1968 mistakenly thinking he was buying the Tower Bridge. The bridge was taken to America and is now part of a theme park in Arizona.

Boat Ride

After the boat tour I found my way to the bus tour again. We passed by the less touristy parts of London such as Chelsea. We passed by Margaret Thatcher’s house and Roger Moore and Sean Connery’s houses (they lived literally a house apart). We saw JK Rowling’s house and other famous people’s homes. London’s little Hollywood you could say. Although pretty in appearance once again I noted the lack of garden space, although we were told that they each had exclusive use of a park that only they had keys to. A ‘superstars only’ park. We passed by Downing Street. I didn’t realise it was such a small street in a rather busy part of the city. I can’t imagine our president living amongst the people such the British Prime Minister does. As this was Election Day the place was abuzz, as was the streets outside Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. Camera crews were everywhere. Unlike back home though, it wasn’t a national holiday on Election Day in the UK. I heard from some people that the voting process is so laid back that they had seen people go vote for their sisters!

Another interesting thing I heard was two gentlemen complaining on the London underground about the construction and how they hoped it will all be done by 2012 when London hosts the Olympics. Very ironic that, sounds rather familiar. There are some major changes taking place due to London’s hosting of the Olympics.

As the tour bus hadn’t passed Buckingham Palace I decided to walk from Trafalgar Square to the palace gates. Little did I know that a mile and a half is actually quite a distance. On the way there I passed by two royal guards. I was tempted to go and do the usual hand in the face thing but I restrained myself. I took pictures and moved along. With the palace in view but so far away I slowed my step down and enjoyed the scenery. Old statues and gardens line the streets. It was interesting to note that the gates around the palace grounds are pillars representing each one of the countries Britain one had as colonies…and one of the pillars on the right in front of the gate is labelled “South Africa”…which was even more symbolic when I turned around and looked up the road towards Trafalgar square to see South Africa House (the South African Embassy in London) on my right as well. Far from home but home was stalking me. The changing of the guard had already taken place and there wasn’t that much to see in front of the palace. I enjoyed the view of one of the most famous landmarks in the world before making my way back towards the noise of London’s streets.

The West End, the term used to speak of the theatre district of London. I had seen most of the theatre production on offer back in South Africa and decided to see something completely different. It had been recommended by Mr Robert’s friend Alex and so I decided to go for it. Avenue Q must be the strangest puppet show I had ever seen. Mix Sesame Street with Gordon Ramsay and add a lot of sexual jokes and you have Avenue Q. The language is rather ‘colourful’ but it is so funny. It has received rave reviews and is definitely worth seeing again if it ever comes to South Africa. The theatre itself was interesting in its own right. Clearly an old building the seats and levels were very steep. So much so I managed to lose a box of chocolates I had bought when I dropped them. Having paid £3.50 for them I made sure they were found again! The theatre audience in London is very young, which was a bit of a surprise to me. Unlike in South Africa where some people still dress up to go to the theatre, the image there is more hip and less formal. Luckily for me the Leicester Underground station was right next to the theatre. An Underground staff member saw me staring at the map for a while and came to offer me help…just like that. I was taken aback by it; I wasn’t used to such cheerful assistance by people who weren’t being paid to actually help lost tourists.

I headed back to my grandly names hotel, Day two in London was tiring but it was eye-opening indeed.

London, day 1.

Dear Diary

Today we landed at Heathrow International Airport, London’s main airport. First time I’ve been in the United Kingdom and so far it’s been a rather interesting trip. It began with trying to adjust to the high pitched cabin attendants asking me at 10pm if I wanted ‘beef or vegetarian sir’. I couldn’t tell if that was a question or a statement…or a threat. Anyways, before I go on about the plane trip let me rewind a bit and explain the rather serious conversation I had with the security guard at the Virgin-Atlantic ticket kiosk. As soon as I told him I was going to London and that I had never been there he gave me the ‘ol’ once over’. He decided that I looked suspicious and asked how I would be paying for my stay and why I was going so far from home. I told him I wasn’t paying for my stay and that it was a mix of work but leaning more towards pleasure. This must have really irked him as he gave me the ‘ol’ once over’ TWICE. I proceeded to enquire if there was a problem. I decided to phone Mr Roberts, who was saying his final goodbyes to his daughter and wife at an eatery nearby, just to double check the details. As soon as he saw me speaking to him on the phone and mentioning time delays and security guards and wasting and other such words the security guard happily let me through to the ticket booth. Hmmm, strange bunch those.

So I made it to the ticketing desk, the Virgin-Atlantic lady offered me a seat with more leg-room if I paid a measly $50, with a giggle I told her my legs were roomy as they were, thanks. She then proceeded to tell me about luggage she had spent 5 days looking for. The owner of said luggage had flown to be on a cruise somewhere in the Caribbean and she thought someone on a cruise needed nothing but a Speedo anyway. We proceeded to laugh about how real men don’t wear Speedos. Once again I giggled. Funny bunch these English.

Onward bound to Terminal 1, the furthest terminal I had ever walked to, God bless the man who invented the vertical escalator things that make you walk fast like a Vampire in Twilight…but it still felt like days before I got to it. The weird part was that no one else was there besides some airport staff. Maybe I was just extra-early, I thought to myself. After reading a magazine I looked up to realise I was still the only person there. Hmmm. A better look at my ticket suggested I rather go to GATE 11. “We’ll keep this to our self” I whispered in my head as I briskly made my way to Gate 11. I discovered that the lovely vertical escalator thingies only head in one direction. Argh.

Eventually after that lovely escapade I made it to the right terminal, Mr Roberts was there waiting for me…or not. Either way I was going to follow him, getting lost in an airport isn’t fun these days. I smiled rather smugly at the security guard who had earlier treated me like a suspect but was now treating others like suspects. The First Class, Business Class and some weird category called Premium Economy class were called up sequentially and the Economy class, our class of cause, was called.

The deco of Virgin-Atlantic planes is rather interesting, who would have thought red, silver, grey and purple matched as a colour combination. Premium-Economy was proudly decked out in lovely dark purple seats. Our seats were silver and red…and rather ‘cosy’. I sat next to a rather polite English woman in the middle seat in the middle aisle. I had been told that I was effectively in the worst seat on the plane. Nice. After the usual explanation about safety with its customary flight attendant arm-action to imaginary exits and hearing what route the captain would take to get us to England I proceeded to figure out how the famed Virgin-Atlantic entertainment system worked. After pressing and prodding to my heart’s content I eventually figured it out.  Before I could watch anything drinks and dinner were served. Some beef ‘thing’ was served with vegetables, a salad, a roll and the usual “what the hell is that” dessert. We were handed a ‘goodie bag’…or the officially termed ‘amenities bag’. It had socks, a toothbrush, an inflatable neck cushion and other little bits and bobs. I didn’t realise people who flew needed so much! The movies were as fresh as a daisy; I’d never seen such a new selection of movies on a flight before. I proceeded to watch Sherlock Holmes and settled in for what we were told was to be a 10 hour flight.

Back to the beginning…we landed at Heathrow. If I had thought the walk to Terminal 1 in Johannesburg was tough then Heathrow won the cup. I’m sure we were given the furthest terminal there is at Heathrow. The walk was lonnngggg. Very few vertical escalators and a lot of people tired and gatvol from a long, cramped flight.

We did the usual Customs thing, had an English Customs (I’m sure they’re called something else there but I forget) official tell us how he loved to make stews after he heard why we were in London. Other than that it was pretty painless. I saw someone get detained though. Which was something interesting to slice through the boredom.

As the time was only 7:00 am or thereabouts we decided to catch the Heathrow Express (a larny version of the Gautrain basically) to Paddington to drop our luggage off at the hotel.

Mr Roberts reassured me that he knew Paddington and how to get to the hotel. I reassured him that I trusted his judgement and that I would just follow him as I myself, knew 0% about London. To cut a long story short…we got lost. Dragging a 23kg suitcase and a laptop around a strange place during morning rush traffic is not recommended. After 3 or so enquiries from strangers and other hotels, we eventually found our way to what was to be our home for 4 days. The Hyde Park Premier London Paddington Hotel (Yes that is the name). After debating with the receptionist about our reservation and whether it existed or not we left our luggage and left to go fetch our tickets to the shows and attractions http://www.visitbritainshop.com had so generously awarded us. Little did we know what an adventure we were about to enjoy.

What I soon learned about London is that there are busses and trains to anywhere and everywhere…as long as you know where you are going. During my packing for the trip I discovered that my lovely camera didn’t have its’ lovely battery charger with it. I duly informed Mr Roberts about this and we added it to the now substantial list of ‘things to do’.

We headed back to Paddington train station firstly to get water, the miniature play-play cups on the plane didn’t do a drink of water any justice, and to get Mr Roberts his morning fix of caffeine. It was whilst there that I soon discovered doing currency sums in your head whilst overseas is not a good idea. Seeing a bottle of juice in a vending machine with a £2.50 price tag made my heart skip more than one beat. I couldn’t help but notice how busy the station was with business people and tourists with suitcases all mingling in one place. There was also quite a bit of renovating going on at the station, something I’d grown quite accustomed to in Jo’burg over the past 3 years.

We decided to head to the famed London Underground to catch my first London ‘tube’. The first thing that hit me about the Underground is the mass of people all heading in one direction but very