Pub Watch: Jerusalem Tavern (Farringdon, London)

Making sure I visit all my favourite spots around town before the imminent departure, Thursday night was the turn of one of my favourtie pubs - Jerusalem Tavern. The Good Beer Guide says a "tiny pub with a huge reputation". And there is not doubting that, everytime I go there the place is always pack, and in Thursday's case, spilling out on the road.

Inside is small and bare, lots of wood and candles with a medieval feel - which is fitting as a pub has stood on the site since at least the 14th century. The beers inside are all from the St Peters Brewery, who brew a large variety of unique, if not always brialliant, beers. Though the bottles that the beers come in - large medicine-type - bottles always attract interest, and the taps mounted as barrels in the wall behind the bar are also a little different.

I'll certainly miss going to this place, always has a great atmosphere and just that little bit quirky.

The Ivy

With the weeks ticking by, it was time for one last extravagent night in London - destination The Ivy. Famous not so much for amazing food or a pricey menu - but for the difficulty in which it is to get a table there. We had in fact booked nearly six months ago, which is par for the course for The Ivy. So why so popular? Well, the food is very good, and for the quality, quite reasonably priced. But The Ivy's infamy is mostly connected with its popularity with celebrities.

So how did we go? After a selection process that came down to who bribed us the most, Rich & Titch joined us on our night of glutony and celebrity-spotting. In the spirit of the evening we started with a bottle of champagne at the bar before moving to our table. We made the most of our (strictly alloted) three hours there, getting through a further bottle of Pinot Noir and then a Saint Emilion Reserve. Three courses all round of course, Anna's scallop entree probably looked the best, and the baked alaska Titch and Anna had for dessert the most extravagant (though my seared tuna on puy lentil salsa was delicious). And how did we go with the celebrity spotting? Well we thought having Rick Gervais and Jeremy Piven there wasn't a bad return, but I let you decide that for yourselves....

Tour de Kent

If you didn't know already, the Tour de France came to the UK this year, with the start of the race - the Prologue - being held in the London, and the first stage being a 203km ride from London to Canterbury in Kent. We all decided that it would be a good idea to watch the stage somewhere out in Kent - and for some of us, ride along part of the stage the day before. So avoiding the chaos that would have beset inner-city London with the prologue on the Saturday, six of us (myself, Jabs, Rich, Brad, Si & Tarns) met up early - OK, not that early - on Saturday morning to embark on our way along the route that the 'real' riders would be taking the next day.

Biking out towards Kent, we certainly saw some of the more 'interesting' parts of Eastern London, but the roads were good and the sun was out. In fact, the roads were pretty good on much of the route we took - we assumed they either picked the roads because of this or had smartened them up in the last year or so. And the sun being out was not being taken for granted, considering that the 'summer' in the UK has so far been pretty miserable (I had only on the Tuesday had to ride through a 'lake' that had previously been a road after a freak - but all too common - storm had passed over London). Passing outside the city limits of London, we hit some pretty enjoyable Kent countryside, passing through some nice looking towns and villages. The pick of the bunch was Rochester, where the first Sprint of the tour was staged, with the route going through narrow streets, including a cobble-stoned stretch with the impressive Rochester Castle on the right and the picturesque Rochester Cathedral on the left.

It was from Rochester that we turned south into the heart of Kent and some interesting mix of terrain. After a long stretch through winding lanes in the countryside, we suddenly followed the route onto a very fast two lane highway for a stretch. We were now getting on past midday, and with our pub lunch ahead of us at the 85km mark, we had something to aim for. It was with many tired legs, grumbling stomachs and thirsty lips that we finally rolled into West Peckham and the Swan on the Green brewpub. It was here that near disaster was only just avoided, as we found out that the kitchen was due to close in 15 minutes. Two courses were quickly ordered, along with a round of pints and jugs of water, and we took ourselves outside the pub overlooking the green - where, by chance, the village fete was being held. The food was good (the significant bread portions were most welcome), the beer was OK - with the Swan Cygnet easily being the pick of the bunch - and the chance to relax was welcome by all (both legs and from Rich's moaning about "hills" every time the road inclined by more than two metres).

Three pints later, we inevitably had to get back on the bike - some a little gingerly - and bike the remaining 40km (as it turned out) to meet up with the girls at our camp site. With energy levels restored though, everyone was in much better spirits and we made pretty good work of the remaining distance. And we finally got ourselves one of those "hills" - the first King of the Mountain stage of that year's tour actually (and where we went to watch the race the next day). In fact, it wasn't really that much of a hill, probably just 100 metres over a gradient of only 4% (not really comparable to Col d'Aubisque of 1800 metres and 10% fame that Jabs, Tarns and I did a couple of years back). From there it was a comfortable cruise down to our camp site and the end of a successful day's ride. (Special mention has to be made for Si who completed the whole 125km on his mountain bike. Watching him go up some of those inclines I was feeling the pain for him - Si having to do nearly 3 rotations to my 1 and having to push a bike probably three times as heavy as mine. It really was a great effort.)

Arriving at our camp site it was good to have a hot shower and a change of clothes. But there was something missing - the girls! Word had it that after putting up (some of) the tents and dropping the gear off, they had walked down to a local country pub and set themselves up there. Girls x no sun cream x wine = very drunk and very sunburnt girls. As we found out after a couple of phone calls - well one half was a phone call, the other half wavered between slurring and giggling. Fortunately we had had the foresight to book ourselves in for dinner at another country pub nearby and we agreed to meet them there. Unfortunately, the walk didn't seem to do them any good as they were still a pack of giggling Gertruds' by the time we caught up with them and I don't think we were the most welcome patrons at the pub that night (though this was all in form for the girls, as apparently they had been scaring away the customers from their pub all day). But an enjoyable night we had, and the bikers even found the legs for some late night country lane rambling after dinner.

Waking up in the morning to the scourge of all campers - dew, but also glorious sunshine, we quickly packed everything up and headed out to our point to watch the Tour go past. While the girls manage to get a lift from the crazy owner of our camp site, we bikers put the legs back over the bike and cycled the 20km or to our meeting point - dodging road closures and policeman trying to tell us that we should be pushing our bikes (as if). We all arrived just in time to catch the caravan of sponsors and all the waving back and forth. Though it seemed that the French sponsors weren't so willing to give away as many of the goodies in the UK and the waving proved pretty useless. Some good crowds had turned out to watch the stage - this had been a feature of both days in the UK and apparently organisers are keen for the Tour to return to London soon. The riders finally came through around 1pm, making light work of such a small climb. A bunch of 5 riders had a 5 minute break on the rest of the Peloton and an English rider actually took the King of the Mountain points on the hill (and the jersey at the end of the day). The sight of the 180-strong Peloton cruising past was pretty cool, but as is the case with being a spectator along the Tour - it was all over as quickly as it begun. But there is no substitute for seeing these supreme athletes up close and personal, and for us bike geeks, checking out their gear.

The final chapter (if you've got this far) of our weekend away was the train ride back into London. In the spirit of the Tour, in a way that only a British Train Company could engineer, they had in all their wisdom decided that no bikes could be taking on their trains that day - on a day when plenty of people were riding along the stage and would be wanting to get back to London! However, we were able to call their bluff when the girls - who had jumped on a train rather than wait with us until later that day - rang us up and informed us that their train was nearly empty. Armed with this knowledge and the motivation to find at least one train guard with more common sense than the need for an ego trip, we finally prevailed and comfortably boarded the next train to London. All in all, a good weekend had out in the sun.

Plenty more pics from the weekend away here.

BBBB Tour

Boys, Belgium, Bikes and Beer - you can't ask for better ingredients for a short weekend away.

On Friday night, the boys boarded the Eurostar to Brussels, bikes in tow, for a last boys weekend away before Brad and I leave in August. Joining Brad and I were Rich, Jabs and Si - unfortunately Todd had to give a rain-check (literally, as he was off to play in the mud at Glastonbury). At Brussels it was just a matter of a quick change of trains and up we went to the gothic city of Ghent. Jumping on our bikes at the station (and remembering that we had to ride on the 'right' side of the road), we made the simple ride to our hotel for the night. That is 'simple', as in stop a few times to scratch our heads and wonder where we are and ask four different locals for directions (who surprisingly, didn't seem to know where they were either!). In fact, it was somewhat by chance, when trying to decipher some very confusing Flemish directions from a group of school girls, that we saw that our Eden ('Hotel Eden' that is) was just on the other side of the intersection.
It was getting late, so with no mucking around, we quickly locked up the bikes, drew cards to see who didn't have to listen to Rich's snoring all night and headed out to get a few beery delights. I should add here, that walking through the city, it was very picturesque, with lots of towering Gothic architecture, canals, large squares - and plenty of Belgian bars. First stop was the cool little bar Aba-Jour, which the 'bible' (Tim Webb's 'Belgium Good Beer Guide') recommended for food and, of course, beer. To set the taste buds tingling for the rest of the night I started with a Lambic, ordering the Cantillon Gueuze, Si joining me with the Cantillon Kriek. But the rest of the boys were scared off by warnings from our waiter (they are very sour) and opted for the still very good Chouffe. We ordered Belgian stews all round and had, of course, plenty of chips. With it being a nice night we decided to move on and try to find a bar where we could sit outside and enjoy the evening. (Little did I know how I would regret this. Aba-Jour had the one beer above all others I wanted to try - the Westvleteren 12 - considered the best beer in the world and the highest rated on ratebeer.com. It was on their menu, for the not so small sum of €11, but I thought I would probably see it somewhere again and preferably as an end of the nigh tipple. I never did see it again....)

After a bit of wandering around, we found ourselves at the Waterhuis bar, apparently "a Ghent institution", with a good little spot at a table canal-side. The service was a little slow, which isn't necessary a bad thing when the beers are 9%, and the waitress was a rare find - one that wasn't hard to look at (well, it was a boys trip after all). In fact, with a decent beer list, we ended up staying there until closing time, indulging in the perfect boy's trip treat - late night meaty snacks. Mindful of the fact that we were due to jump on our bikes in a few hours time, we sauntered back through the city to our hotel in the early hours of the morning.

Waking up the next morning there was a clamour to get our heads out the window, partly to get some fresh air, but also to make a nervous assessment of the weather - the forecast had predicted rain for the weekend. At this stage, both were pleasing to the senses. After stocking up on the usual European breakfast and waiting for Brad to do his hair, we slipped into the lycra and headed out on the bikes. Once again, having a whole map of Belgium printed onto an A3 bit of paper proved to be pretty useless when trying to navigate our way around the streets of Ghent, but when we eventually asked for directions, once again we happened to be right where we wanting to be.

Our route from Ghent to Brugge was along the Ghent-Brugge canal, a ride of about 50-odd kms. Those Europeans certainly know how to treat their cyclists, with the canal having 3-metre wide paved bike lanes on both sides pretty much the whole way, even cutting into the countryside from time to time - impressive stuff. Of course, it was only about 5 minutes along the canal when what we had all been dreading finally arrived - the rain. So on went the wet weather gear, but onwards we went. In fact the rain wasn't too bad - though there were a couple of instances when it was a fair deluge and it was a surprise not to see Noah himself cruising down the canal. But when you are soaked through, there is not much you can do - and it actually became enjoyable, man battling the elements.

And for much as there were periods of rain, there were dry periods, sometimes even sunny, and riding along you dry up pretty quickly. During one such dry spell, we happened past a small bar canal-side. Deciding to enjoy the moment, we took up the seats outside and ordered ourselves a round of Palm Specials at the crazy price of €1.20 each. Of course, this was one act of defiance too many for the weather gods, and we were promptly sent packing indoors to the bar - which was pretty much the front room of their house - and a second round of beers (there's a silver lining to every cloud, even one that is raining).

With some horrible attempts at Flemish goodbyes, to the humour of the locals (read "local"), we headed back out into the rain in pursuit of another bar further along that I had picked out for lunch. Once again we found ourselves a little locationally challenged, but sheltering in the bus stop from another Noah-inspiring deluge, we managed to prise out some directions from a fellow rain-avoider in exchange for a couple of Minstrels. With rumbling tummies and wet everything, we parked up outside the 'Seventh Heaven' bar in the small village of Beernem (with a name like that, it was obviously meant to be) and headed in. I'm not sure what the women running the bar thought of us bedraggled lot, especially as the only other people in the bar seemed be Octogenarians in their Sunday bests. Nevertheless, she was friendly enough and we quickly ordered some drinks and food (well, as quick as you can when we had to have her show us that "Brood" ont he menu was bread). This was a great little place, done up really nice with an impressive beer list, and even more impressively, one lady behind the bar who was barwoman, waitress, and chef. And she did a fine job of it all as well, with the grilled beef ribs being the perfect boys weekend lunch.

With 15-odd kms still to go to Brugge, we reluctantly left 'Seventh Heaven', though made all the more easy by the glorious sunshine that had now come out. With 3 more good beers and a great lunch in the belly, off we cycled along the canal again. Of course, as these things tend to go, we didn't get far. Just a couple of kms along we came across another bar, ominously called the 'Half Moon' (there is a pub by the same name on my road in Putney), and a democratic decision was quickly made to have just one more. For once, showing some constraint, we did just have that one, and enjoyed the last 10kms in the sun into Brugge, and not surprisingly after all the beers over the day, with much merriment.

After quickly finding our hotel for the night (true this time), we all spruced ourselves up with a shower and converted our rooms into a Chinese laundry. Having not had a beer for all of an hour, our target was what is quoted by some as the 'best bar in the world' - Brugs Beertje. With a huge beer list and good mix of tourists and locals inside, it lived up to its reputation (for more, see the Pub Watch post). In fact, it was so good we went twice! After our first spell at Brugs Beertje, we went off in search of the one thing that must be part of every boys weekend - steaks! After doing a circuit of Brugge, we ended up going to the restaurant across the street from Brugs Beertje, which served us up some big steaks with peppercorn sauce - perfect. As mentioned, once we finished up dinner, we decided that Brugs Beertje was so good that there was no need to check out any other bars, and back we went across the road. Plenty of brilliant beers later, we reluctantly took our leave of the lock-in, some of us in better shape than others.

Sunday started with a few sore heads and blurry eyes and it was a bit of a slow start by all. There was the odd spot of rain outside and plenty of fluffing about inside. Eventually we agreed to go out for a shortish ride for lunch and get back for our train to Brussels around 3pm. After a cruise around Brugge we headed out along a picturesque tree-lined canal, our minds and bodies better for the fresh air. Only about 10km outside of Brugge we came up to the attractive town of Damme, decided to stop for a drink....and didn't end up going any further. Though, this was entirely our fault as the pizza's we ordered took over an hour and half. They were good, but not that good - I think there must be an inverse relationship between the service you get and the amount of sweaty lycra you are wearing.

With time up, we had to cycle back to the Brugge train station and took the trip back to Brussels to drop our bikes off in time to get on our Eurostar back to London. This gave us just enough time to fit in - you guessed it - one more beer. It was with much regret that we had to leave, as soon as the Eurostar left the platform I wanted to turn around and go back. It may be a while until I get back to Belgium again, but I definitely will be returning.

Epilogue: Arriving back into London, there was just one final leg of the boys weekend left. This was a quick cycle around to Si's where Kellie had recorded the All Black-South Africa game for us from the day before, accompanied by the last thing that would make a boys weekend complete - curry!

Click here for more pics.

Pub Watch: Brugs Beertje (Brugge, Belgium)

Tim Webb's Belgium Good Beer Guide has this to say about Brugs Beertje:


The one and only, the original "Little Bruges Beer". You cannot call yourself a well-travelled beer lover until you have been here. This is the place that made us decide to create the Guide.

And it certainly lived up to such a reputation. So good, I had to go twice.

The inside is what you want from a bar, simple with interesting paraphernalia on the walls, a good noise level that just breaths conversation, and a beer list as long as your arm (well, if your arm has 250+ beers on it). And the service was superb - very friendly and it was hard to believe there was just to two of them as you never had to wait. With such a reputation, it was not surprising to have quite a few tourists there (we were ones ourselves I guess), but there was also a good sprinkling of locals (mostly up at the bar) to suggest it is still a genuine bar and not just a tourist trap.

All the beers were in superb condition, and of course this being Belgium, were served in the appropriate branded glass. On my two visits, I got through some fine beers: La Rulles Brune, De Dolle Extra Export Stout, Het Kapittel Watou Prior, De Ranke Guldenberg & Witkap Pater Singel. The pick for me being the Het Kapittel Watou Prior.

It seems the quintessential Belgian bar to me, and certainly one of the best bars I have ever had the pleasure of drinking in, and one I will have to revisit again.

Greece is the Word

Click here for for pictures in the web album.

The Greek Islands have been on Anna's list of places to visit for some time now and if we hadn't fit it in before our imminent departure I would have never heard the end of it. And, after getting back on Sunday I'm very happy we went.

It all started with a pretty crazy and Friday night. We flew into Athens on the Friday night at around 10.30pm, but weren't due to fly out to Santorini until 6am the next morning. There is only one (very expensive) hotel next to the airport and rather than travel all the way into town to just spend a couple of hours lying on a bed waiting to get a taxi all the way back again, we decided to hit the town instead. Unconventional and ambitious perhaps, but it worked really well. We decided to start the evening with a really good meal at one of Athens top restaurants - 48 The Restaurant. Arriving at a late 11.45pm, the place was really cool, all modern and minimalist inside - which is Anna and I to a T. We shared a delicious octopus carpaccio and setting the scene for the week, we both had fish for dinner - with a good Greek Sauvignon Blanc to wash it all down. Leaving the restaurant we headed out into Kolonaki, a posh part of town with lots of bars and cafes. With luggage in tow, we had a few drinks at a couple of bars, one really cool place with a relaxed atmosphere and chilled-out jazz. We managed to keep this going until 4am when we caught the bus back to the airport (which was crazily busy for 5am in the morning), starting to feel a little weary.

Planning to check out the views on our flight to Santorini, our all-nighter finally took its toll and the only thing either of us can remember from the flight was taking off and landing. Arriving pretty early we were able to rest up at our accommodation (where we stayed in a cave built into the cliffs) and wander the picturesque village of Oia when it was quite empty in the morning. And Santorini is stunning - the land of white-washed walls, sleeping dogs and American tourists. From Oia you always have amazing views over the caldera that is Santorini and the blue and white of the buildings is everything you expect of the Greek Islands. Not surprisingly, we spent the first day relaxing, only venturing down to the little bay of Ammoudi for some very fresh fish and an amazing whole grilled squid. The next day we went on a great walk (about 12kms) from Oia, along the cliffs, to the main town on Santorini, Fira. It was a great way to get a feel for the island and also confirmed to us that Oia was the place to stay. The next day we decided to hire a scooter and tour the island. Unfortunately, they would only rent us a scooter if we had an International Driver's License - I didn't actually think such things existed anymore - so we had to hire a quad-bike instead. Of course, this was the one day in all our holiday that the weather decided to be cloudy and rain a little - not much fun when you are driving around on a quad-bike in only shorts and t-shirt. We had planned to visit some of the beaches around the island, but with the non-compliant weather we decide to visit some of the wineries instead. We ended up picking up a bottle of an award winning Vinsanto (a sweet dessert wine) from the Canava Roussos winery - and with all such purchases, when we actually started drinking it we wished we had bought more but could no longer go back (though at €35 it wasn't cheap for a 375ml bottle, I think there next wine was only €13 - but it was oh so good!). That night the weather put on one last show for us before becoming brilliant fine for the rest of our week, putting on a big electrical storm - what I liked to call "Greece lightning" (and no, I am not a born again T-Bird).

Regretfully we had to leave Santorini the next day - we could have easily stayed another, it was pretty tough getting up each morning and having breakfast served to us looking across the caldera. Taking the ferry that afternoon, where noticeably we seemed to have dropped the American tourists (who probably all fly), we arrived at our next destination, the island of Naxos. In Naxos, we had hired a studio apartment out on a beach on the southern coast of the island. As we were driven out there, it couldn't have been more different to Santorini, we were pretty remote, being driven about 3kms past the closest town along a dirt road. But stunning as Santorini was, Naxos was idyllic. The apartments along our beach (Plaka) stretched out in a row along the 5km beach with just enough tavernas dotted along to keep us well fed. In fact, after initially thinking we would hire a car or a scooter (if they would let us) for the 3 days, we ended up not even hiring a mountain bike and didn't venture any further than our legs would take us. So we didn't get up to much except relax, read, play Euchre, swim, and baste in the sun (well, that last one was more Anna than me). That's not to say we didn't get a little bit of exercise, I decided to swim out to some rocks one day which were a bit further than they looked, and we went for a 4 hour walk along and back a never ending beach the next bay over in search of a taverna we had heard about (which we didn't even find in the end), and of course there was the 30 minute walk to our favourite taverna each night. One comical part of where we were staying was that we were smack bang in nudie central. It was the first morning when we got up, went to the balcony and looked down on the beach that we saw a couple, starkers, playing paddle tennis. In our time there, we saw plenty of other nudists on the beach, erecting tents (no pun intended), picking up stuff, and other activities you don't really want to see elderly nudists getting up to. But all very amusing. The other thing that struck us in our time in Naxos (or our little microcosm of Naxos) was that we never met or heard another English speaker the whole time we were there. In fact, we seemed to have been transported in the world of the German tourist - which does help to explain the nudist thing.

At the end of our 3 days in Naxos we felt very relaxed, and once again, we could have easily stayed another day. But our next destination was a night on the island of Mykonos, which again was very different to the other two islands. Mykonos is known as more of a party island, and we certainly got the feel for this when getting off our ferry, we arrived at the same time as a ferry from Athens and a hoard of 20-somethings. But Mykonos is also very picturesque in the same vein as Santorini, with all the buildings painted in blue and white. With such a short time there, we immediately took off to one of the renown beaches on the southern coast of Mykonos - Super Paradise. Looking around the little boat by which you get to the cove that Super Paradise beach is situated on, surrounded by about 20 young and nubile Greek girls (Anna was there....I think), I knew I was were going to the right place. The beach itself was amazing. In a deep cove, the water was so crystal clear it was hard to believe it was sea water. The beach itself was already filling up and was dominated by groups of young Greeks having a good time. Grabbing ourselves a couple of loungers, and in between swims, we sat back listening to the chilled out tunes coming from the bar at the back of the beach, sipped our beers, and watched the young Greeks posing, posturing and preening (and that's just the guys - waxed legs and all). At about 4pm, the bar turned up the bass and before we knew it there was dancing on the beach and people were starting to congregate back at the bar. Anna and I were just too relaxed now to really get into this, but it looked like you could make a really good night out of it all and I would love to go back there in a big group. So come 6pm, we left the young and the restless to it and got the boat back into town and made the most of the pool (and diving board) back at our hotel. Back in the Mykonos old town that night, we wandered through the attractive narrow lanes and alleys and could not help but notice the number of gay couples were saw (Mykonos is known for being gay-friendly). Despite Mykonos supposedly having some of the best nightlife in Europe, we were still too relaxed to muster up the enthusiasm and we had a relatively early night (though in Greece this is still being out to around 1am), deciding to get up early to take one last swim in the pool before getting the ferry to Athens the next day (though again we wished we could have stayed an extra day).









After much debate, we had decided to try to get to Athens reasonable early the next day, not for any sight-seeing mind you, but to make the most of the hotel we were staying at. Fresh Hotel looked really cool when we booked it - once again stylish and minimalist, a 'design experience' - and we wanted to be able to make the most of the roof top pool. With a bar, chilled-out sounds, and views of the Acropolis, we didn't really need to go anywhere else for the afternoon. After a few cocktails and beers over the sunset, we eventually had to venture out into Athens once more and found our way to a small little restaurant recommended by the Time Out guide that was some of the best food we had on the whole trip. There was no menu - a huge tray of starters was brought out to you and you chose which ones you wanted, and then the mains on offer were read out to you by the waiter. It was a really simple place with great food - and was obviously a popular spot for locals rather than tourists. Bulging with this great dinner, we then went to the Craft Microbrewery Brewpub (see Pub Watch) to try some Greek beers a bit more exciting than the very average 'Mythos' I had been drinking all week.

Not flying out until 7pm the next day, we ventured out into a very hot Athens day to do the obligatory sight-seeing. I always like a good ruin, and Athens has plenty of those in quite a confined area. Athens is definitely a very walkable city, but after doing the circuit of everything we wanted to see - including the Acropolis and the original Olympic Stadium - we decided that the best way to spend our last few hours in Greece was poolside back at our hotel (we didn't want to leave there either).

So....the one word that sums up our trip to the Greek Islands has to be "relaxing". We were so chilled the whole week (and we are still pretty chilled out now), we just wanted to stay longer. You could easily spend months island hopping rather than days. Its a cliche, but each island is amazingly different, but we liked each island equally as much. We had brilliant weather and great food - stuffed calamari, grilled octopus, fresh fresh fish, yummy eggplant, and plenty of Greek salads (and yes, even I was eating the feta - much better than the stuff we get back here at home). It is just going to have to be added to the list of the many places we want to return to....

Pub Watch: Craft (Athens, Greece)

On our night in Athens I had specifically set aside some time to visit the Craft brewpub (http://www.craft.gr/) and at last sample some half-decent Greek beer. The brewpub is conveniently located close to a Metro stop and strikes quite an impression from the outside - all glass front and modern. On the night we went there was a Greek football game on and the downstairs bar was full with Athenians watching the large screen TV. So we headed upstairs to the restaurant area, again stylish with dark lighting. Maybe a little soulless, but it fits in well with a lot of other Athenian modern design and architecture.

But more importantly....the beer. Foolishly, we were paying our visit after enjoying a very large Greek meal which I could foresee as severely limiting my ability to taste their beer. Luckily though, no sooner had we sat down than a tasting tray of their six beers was presented to us. Though not as good as a full pint, it was perfect for a beer-rater with a full stomach. Sipping my way through the six beers, I found them to be of mixed quality. The Bohemian Pilsner was a good starter, being crisp with a clean honey and fruit flavour. The other surprise was seeing they have a Rauchbier, and though they weren't hitting the quality of Bamberg, it still had that unique smoked flavour. The more highly rated Black Lager was OK, but a bit below expectations for me (it is the highest rated Greek beer on ratebeer.com). Both the Hefeweizen and the Red Ale were good efforts, and the Athenian Lager was, well, a lager....

So with tastings consumed, we ordered ourselves a proper drink, myself selecting the Rauchbier and The GrandMistress opting for the Hefeweizen. With bloated stomachs we sipped at our beers, me rueing not coming here before dinner. And then fate, and clumsy hands, confirmed it just wasn't to be, when Anna decided to knock the second half of her pint over herself, the table, the floor and any other object in our near vicinity. Taking this as a sign, I finished up my Rauchbier and called it a night. A shame to be sure, though I think overall both the beers and the brewpub were a little unimaginative, though certainly a step up on the drought of good beer throughout the rest of Greece.

Yorkshire (R)ambling

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Another weekend and another trip away. This weekend was a Bank Holiday on Monday and the destination was the Yorkshire Dales.

Friday night, the 8 of us, fully provisioned, jumped on the train for Yorkshire. A few beers, wines, bacon & egg pie, and an assortment of snacks later we arrived in the little Yorkshire town of Settle and walked the mile or so to the much smaller town of Langscliffe where we were staying. Having spied a good looking pub on the way, we promptly dumped our gear and headed pack to the Thwaites pub, steering clear of the other pub in town with the blaring karaoke (though I guess you've got to do something in a small Yorkshire town).

After cooking up an energy-supplying and head-clearing breakfast, and comparing scroggin (I don't think Titch's jelly babies and minstrel mixture is in the "Trekkers manual"), off we set on our ramble. Our first part was a 6 mile cross country walk to the town of Malham where we had planned to have lunch. Was a bit of a shock to the system as it started straight off with a steep climb. But once the blood pressure was up and we had made the rise, it was a great rolling walk across what was quite deserted Yorkshire Dales countryside. Passing over various stone farm walls, under crumbling "Scars" (limestone cliffs), we hardly saw another soul - the most notable exception being a small herd of Highland Coos.

After a Ploughman's lunch at The Lister Arms in Malham, we took off on part two of our day's walking (though after two pints this was definitely more an amble than a ramble), a 6 mile loop from Malham. This was a much more treaded path and there were plenty of other walkers on this route. First stop was up to Malham Cove, an impressive curved limestone cliff which was dotted all over with rock climbers and bird watchers (difficult to know which are the more mad). Our route took us to the top of the Cove and through some pretty cool exposed limestone landscape, but the return leg was much more exciting. The Gordale Scar is the other main natural attraction in this area of the Yorkshire Dales - a narrow and steep limestone ravine with a couple of waterfalls. Coming up to it from behind, it jumped up on us quite unexpectedly. It also meant that we had to traverse down it, which at the bottom required a certain amount of rock climbing. For some of us, it was the best bit of the day, others weren't so enthusiastic....

To reward ourselves for a good day's walk, we had booked ourselves into The Angel Inn, a pub that I had read was recommended for its food. Getting picked up by our taxi at the end of the walk, we knew we weren't probably dressed as well as we might, but we weren't prepared for the snobs that the restaurant was filled with. Granted, we were still in our smelly walking gears (and didn't have our Tweed jackets on), but this was in the middle of walking country. We still had excellent food and after a couple of wines quite enjoyed the fact that we were getting up the nose of the local gentry.

Sunday dawned overcast and with the hint of rain. After the efforts of the day before, a shorter walk was planned, though of course the pub lunch was still very much on the agenda. After a gentle walk up the river, the rest of the crew turned back for the pub while Gump senior (Si) and Gump junior (Sam) decided to do another 5 mile loop before returning to the pub. Of course, as all such decisions usually turn, it was at the top of the climb on our walk that the heavens decided to open and rain started coming in sideways. Thankfully it didn't last long and the only other difficulty on our ramble was a cheeky cow who decided he didn't want to run off like the rest of his herd and decided to stand us down (requiring a few careful sidesteps and a watchful eye). A good afternoon at the pub was had, and where Titch reminded us all why we aren't married to her as she incessantly let Rich know that her team (Man U) had just won the premiership and his team (Arsenal) had not won anything.

The next day we departed back to London - not of course without another visit to a Yorkshire pub - though with a slight detour when our booked train was cancelled. Wasn't too much drama though and it gave us more time to debate the official rules of Last Card. A good weekend trip all up, the Yorkshire Dales are definitely a great area of the country and a bit of rambling is certainly good fun. In fact the complaints coming home weren't so much of tired legs, but more of full stomachs from pub food and Yorkshire beer!

For more pics you can go here or here.

Madrid - Tapatastic

For pictures from the trip click here.

In the middle of plenty of trips for Anna and I, we also managed to fit in a short weekend trip to Madrid with Deb & Carl. Why Madrid? Well, we have heard plenty of people mention that it is a very cool place to visit, and we also wanted to get our last fill of fantastic Spanish tapa's....

Arriving Friday night and pretty hungry we headed into downtown Madrid. Not wanting to stick too much as tourists, we endeavoured to stay our hunger until the locals go out to eat and started off with a few drinks at the brewpub Naturbier - their Helles was quite pleasant (it even tickled the taste buds of Fosters-loving Carl), but their Dunkel needs some work. Feeling that we had left it late enough to join the Spanish late-dinner, we started the circuit around the very pleasant Plaza Santa Ana, dropping into this and that Tapa bar and tickling our taste buds on another level. This set the course for the evening and it wasn't until the early hours of the morning that we made our back towards our hotel. Though despite the hour, it seemed Madrid was very much alive, and we got waylaid ourselves by the Chocolateria de San Gines - famous for its chocolate con churros. Maybe it was the hour, or maybe we were just too full of tapa's and sangria, but the thick hot chocolate just wasn't for us - though it certainly seemed popular with the locals.

We started the next morning with a walking tour around the city and then spent the rest of the afternoon walking around ourselves. Madrid struck me as quite a "liveable" city, very open with lots of wide avenues, plaza's and parks. Very different to Barcelona or Seville, not nearly as touristy and with a more relaxed feel to it. I guess that is because there isn't a lot of specific tourist stuff to do. Something I am finding I prefer in my destinations, as you tend to get more of a feel for the place rather than rushing around continuously from one site to the next. What better to do when you go away on holiday than to gently amble around a new city, randomly stopping in to the odd bar for a drink or tapa, and moving on again.

Though we did also manage to fit in a visit to Real Madrid's impressive Bernabeu Stadium on Saturday afternoon - where the museum proudly displays their numerous trophies and awards (including 9 Champions League and FIFA's Team of the 20th Century). We also found ourselves bunkering down in the manager's seat in the Stadium as a one of the largest thunder storms I have ever seen came through (apart from that crazy hour, we had great sunny weather all weekend).

The next day we joined the locals in their Sunday promenading in the El Retiro park, before stopping off at our favourite Tapa's bar one more time and one patatas bravas too many!

Another bonus of the trip was flying out of London City airport. On our return it took no more than five minutes from exiting the plane to exiting the terminal altogether (for those of you who haven't experienced Heathrow, Gatwick or the dreaded Stansted - this can be classed as a small miracle) - even the passport control officers were friendly! Just a relaxed finish to a relaxed weekend.

You can also see Deb & Carl's take on trip here.

Putney Tandoori - Kursey Lamb

The girls had organised themselves to go out and see the Dirty Dancing musical, so while they were putting baby in the corner, the boys got themselves together for a night of ale and curry - I know which sounds better to me!

We started off at The Bricklayers Arms (my favourite local pub) for a few Timothy Taylors before heading down to Putney Tandoori (my favourite local curry house) for their special Kursey Lamb - "a whole leg of tender lamb roasted in Indian style with spices & herbs, marinated in a special sauce, garnished with lettuce, tomatoes & cucumber". We actually had to order this the day before as 24 hours notice is required - to marinate the lamb overnight.

Well, if you think it sounds good, it tasted even better! As you can see from the pics, we didn't leave much behind....

From Russia with....

For pictures from the trip click here.

Being a real history nerd (I even read "The Rise & Fall of the Soviet Empire" and "War & Peace" for the occasion), I have always wanted to make the trip to Russia. But after a lot of inertia and dilly-dallying around Anna and I finally took the plunge and decided to do it through the dreaded "tour" - my first ever. There are lots of things that put me off tours - stranger-danger, reduced freedom of what you can do, and the fact that tours typically do things on the cheap. However, helping us along in making the decision (apart from the fact that we were being slack and saw that we would never get there otherwise) was that Deb & Carl's flatmates Matt & Liv were going to be on the same tour. This proved to be a god-send, as it meant that we could pretty much drop the rest of the tour and go and do our own thing - which was just as well too as there were a few members of the tour you did your best to avoid (Top of that list was "The Chad" - take the most loud, obnoxious, and rude Queenslander you can think of, times that by ten and then you have "The Chad"). Also, the tour company we were with - Beetroot - was a tour with a lot of freedom. They effectively only organised your visa, accommodation, transport, and walking tours - and apart from that you were free to do what you wanted.

Our first destination was Moscow. Being in Moscow was definitely my favourite part of the trip. It is just full of history, both Communist and pre-Communist. It was great to just be in places like the Kremlin and the Red Square and visit Lenin's Mausoleum (a weird experience). In Moscow there is also a real mix of architecture - some grand old Mansions mixed with very square Communist blocks.

This was in complete contrast to St Petersburg, which most people seem to prefer, but for me it felt much more European (reminded me very much of Copenhagen) and not as Russian as Moscow. There is little of the Communist touch there and the history and architecture is more from the Tsarist times - which was also interesting. We also got a little bit of "culture" in St Peters, going to a very entertaining Folk show (including some impressive Cossack dancing) and to a Ballet performance of Cinderella - which, I have to say, will be something I only do in Russia.

In between Moscow and St Petersburg, we also had a night in Novgorod - which is the oldest city in Russia. It was here that we had a fascinating tour, where the guide not only pointed out the sites and history of Novgorod, but talked openly with us about living in Communist and post-Communist Russia. She also gave us a real feel for some the contrasts in Russian life - where you can buy staples like bread (and vodka) for next to nothing, but a simple 2-bedroom townhouse can set you back $1m US dollars.

One of the unexpected highlights of the whole trip was the food. With the benefit of doing some research, I had found a couple of highly recommended restaurants in Moscow. The first was Café Pushkin - pretty much universally recognised as the place to eat in Moscow. It is situated over three floors of what must have been an old Mansion, with stunning interior (including shelves of century-old books and clocks) and top-class service. And just as good was the food - the most memorable being the best Borscht (beetroot soup) I have ever had. We went there the first night we arrived, and it was so good we return again on our last day! The other restaurant was Shinok, a Ukrainian restaurant whose feature is a glassed-off inner farmyard with live farm animals and a resident Babushka to tend them. And being Ukrainian we also had to have Chicken Kiev - which isn't the chicken stuffed with cheese and ham we get at home, but with a garlic and herb sauce that was delicious. And though these two were the best, they set the scene for the whole trip we where we really enjoyed the food. If you are prepared to pay a bit more (and avoid any recommendations from the Tour company!), you could get food second to none.

We also did our best to sample some of the local produce - namely the infamous Russian vodka. One memorable night saw the four us leaving a very cool arty club in Moscow at 4.30am in the morning and getting a lift in the back of a guy's Lada to our hotel. They don't really have taxi's in Russia, locals just drive around and if they get flagged down will negotiate a fare for where you want to go - this guy didn't know what he was bargaining for as we squeezed into the back in our vodka-induced state. But we were most appreciative when he got us back to our hotel (after much pointing at maps) as we had no idea where we were going.

We also had a couple of good nights out in St Peters. One was at the Tinkoff brew pub, where I took on their all you can drink "buffet" and just managed to get my money's worth. Though not an inspiring arrange of beers, they were some of the better ones I had on the trip (the unfiltered weissbier being the best) and the brewpub itself was a pretty cool place. On our last night, after a close call with a very strange bar with lots of people in fancy dress, we went to a club that was in an old bunker from WW2 - and that also had "face control", which we managed to get our way through.

It certainly was an interesting and fun trip and I would recommend it to anyone. Maybe not the easiest place to get around, but well worth the effort.

Is it magic?

You can click here for my selection of pictures, but Rich and Brad have selections here as well.

This was the somewhat bizarre slogan of our resort in the Austrian Alps - Saalbach-Hinterglemm - which had the unfortunate effect of spontaneous renditions of one of the less memorable Queen songs. But, more importantly I guess, was it magic....

Well, unfortunately, the snow wasn't magic. Though our expectations weren't high as our daily checking on snow reports prior to our arrival showed that this year wasn't going to see a repeat of the previous year's mass of snow. However, the night we arrived snow was falling so there was reason for some cheer. But this was short-lived as this was the only snow we were to see fall for another 5 days. Of course, the flip side to this was that we did have wonderfully sunny weather, which meant great visibility and views of the valley and surrounding mountains, and long lunches at ski huts with in sunnies and t-shirts. Though the warm weather wasn't too favourable for the snow conditions (or to one-piece wearers, for whom it could get pretty hot inside) - and it was admittedly a depressing sight when we woke up each morning to see our chalet surrounded by green grass.

But it wasn't all that bad. The snow was still pretty good up the top half of the resort and the facilities superb. There were plenty of ski huts everywhere to stop at during the day for lunch or to drink - both of which everyone seems to make sure they take the utmost advantage of. Of course, while the weiss bier and the schnitzel is very good, the music is seriously bad - if isn't Oompah Band, its love songs from the 80s, and the crazy Austrians/Germans/Dutch seem happy to dance away to either. In fact, the resort lived up to is claim of having the best "Après Skiing", with most people being more concerned with drinking than skiing by mid-afternoon. So this more than made up for what was perhaps not the most ideal of snow conditions.

But the week did finish with a flourish. On our penultimate day at the resort, while we were nursing some grim hangovers from a few too many shots of Jagermeister (well, it is the Austrian national drink) the night before, a decent storm came through and dumped a whole lot of fresh snow across the resort. This made for a great last day - Rich finally keeping true to his "first lift, last lift" claim - it was fine and sunny again, with plenty of fresh powder about for some good on and off piste skiing. Anna's snowboarding came on leaps and bounds - as did her 500 skills (it took a lot of cheating by the boys to finally come out on top) - and the one-piece was seen flying down the mountain somewhat more assured and quicker than at the start of the week.

We finished off our week with one last night in Salzburg (which is only 1.5 hours away) and one last indulgence in some of that schitzel and weiss bier. It was great to get another taste of European skiing and I wonder whether I will be bothered to click into a pair of bindings back in NZ now. It might not have been magic, but it was certainly a lot of fun.

Moroccan Madness

For those of you who just want to see the pics or have short attention spans, just click here.

Madness - though that is a bit unfair on Morocco, as we actually found it a relatively relaxed place to visit, but we did collect a few funny tales on the way. In fact, one of the most crazy experiences of our trip to Morocco was our first night in Luton! We had an early morning 6.30am flight to Fes on the Saturday morning so we decided to save ourselves another couple of hours sleep and a taxi ride and stay at the Luton Airport Holiday Inn (whoever books themselves there for a "holiday" should really speak to their travel agent). With some luck the Luton Beer Festival was on that night, so it made a good excuse to brave (and that is the right word) the Luton streets and was the saving grace of the night. All that can be said about Luton is....there's not much to recommend it.

A little hungover the next morning, off Anna and I went, arriving in Morocco to the weather we had just left behind - rainy and cold - and this was an early pointer to the bizarre mix of weather we were to encounter. Nevertheless, we were whisked into Fes to our Riad for the first two nights - Riad Norma. And what a stunning place it was. Riads are large old Moroccan houses that have been renovated to the point of being palatial, full of mosaics and etchings. The contrast of the insides of these Moroccan buildings to their drab and dirty exteriors was always surprising.

Fes is infamous for the maze-like streets of its Medina (old city) and we decided to follow the advise of numerous travel guides and get a guide for the first day. Our Riad recommended Lattif and he did a good job of guiding us through the myriad of alleys and lanes that make up the Medina - though poor old Lattif had been doing it for 20 years and sometimes it showed. Our first experience of Morocco definitely surprised as, as we found Fes to be a lot more relaxed than we expected. This was to be a theme of the whole trip, where we found the Moroccan people to be very friendly and - except for the odd bad seed - helpful. Compared to Egypt or Turkey, Anna said Morocco was a breeze.

After a good day in the city, dodging the odd shower, we had booked in to have dinner at our Riad - which was much recommended by reviews we had read. In fact, many of them said that the food was so good they ended up eating all their dinners there - which is exactly what happened to us. The two soups I had over the two nights are probably two of the best soups I have ever had. These were followed by first of many tagines and accompanied by some surprisingly good Moroccan wine (whose very existence itself is a surprise in an Islamic country).

The next day was fine and sunny, so we just wandered around the city by ourselves, getting lost a couple of times - requiring a small payment to the locals to get us back to a known landmark. We even picked up a couple of young lads who were determined to be our guides for the afternoon, even though we were heading back to our Riad and knew exactly where we were going. At one stage they got told off by someone and finally gave up after we had led them halfway across the city.

Monday dawned and off we went with some trepidation to pick up our hire car. By no means was it a modern car, but it wasn't as bad as we thought it could be - a Toyota Corolla (which must be the most gutless cars ever built) that served us well and got a bit of a hammering on the way. It was one of those cars that feels like it could break down any day now, but always feels like it won't be today. It was great having the car too as it allowed us to go at our own pace. Most people we met along the way were surprised that we were driving ourselves - most get a driver. But the driving was actually relatively easy, out of the towns you hardly see another car on the road. The towns themselves can be a bit frustrating, with 40 kph speed limits, and the car being a second-class citizen, the roads being primarily reserved for biking, walking, donkeys, market stalls or just general catching up.

Driving off towards the mountains we were surprised how green this part of the country was - something you are not expecting when you visit Morocco, but Morocco is definitely not the country you think it will be. We spent the day driving up into the Middle Atlas Mountains, where we got our first look at Morocco's stunning mountain scenery. We even went past a Moroccan ski field, which with just one lift, two runs and no snow, earned some disparaging comments from the two of us - little did we know that the joke would soon be on us.

Our destination for the night was the town of Midelt at the base of the High Atlas mountains. The only drama along the way being a close call with a 40 euro fine when we didn't notice the sign telling us to stop for the police (managed to charm our way out of it though). We had booked a place recommended by the Lonely Planet and it ended up being of typical Lonely Planet standard. It was literally in the middle of nowhere, being 6kms out of town along a dirt road. Its situation was quite nice, right up against the mountains, but in what was quite a large place we were the only guests. The place was obviously set up for a bus load of backpackers and was lacking a bit of life with only the two of us there. We had the choice of rooms, which isn't saying much, and we comforted ourselves with the fact that it was just a stopover for the night. The old guy (who I labelled the Patriarch) who owned the place though was a real character, he didn't speak any English except for saying "It's good? It's good!" all the time. He obviously had an interesting story as he had one son to a German wife and then about 6 or 7 for children to a Moroccan wife - it would have been great to be able to talk to him. He was also one of the few Moroccans we saw drinking. Dinner was a very interesting experience! Because we were the only guests and it was damn cold, we had it in the salon which had a fireplace, with the Patriarch and his son, who spoke English but was very intense and just a little bit scary. So there we were eating what was a very average dinner (Anna's wasn't too bad, mine was terrible), with the Patriarch and his son watching us eat and him saying "It's good? It's good!" all the time. Needless to say it feel very weird and after dinner we decided it was best to just go to bed - at 8.30pm! In the middle of nowhere in the middle of Morocco and having just eaten a meal of doubtful quality, it would not have been unreasonable to go to bed with the pocket-knife in one hand and a roll of loo paper in the other, not knowing which possibility was the least desirable. But both fears were unfounded and the shock we got in the morning was much more unexpected. Looking out the window in the morning and wiping the window to look outside, we realised there was no condensation on the window at all, and that white stuff was all outside. Yes - it had snowed overnight! We certainly hadn't expected to see snow on our trip to Morocco!!

Needless to say, it was pretty cold - though not as cold as the shower. After a quick breakfast we escape our very odd hotel and set off to drive over the High Atlas Mountains and onto the Sahara desert, where we were due to spend the night. By the time we had left, the snow had turned to rain, which stuck with us all day - a bit of a shame as we were driving through some stunning scenery. The most stunning was the Ziz Valley, where we thought we were driving along a flat valley floor and actually commented that it was quite boring and couldn't understand the panoramic views the guide books was mentioning. About 2 minutes later we turn a corner and the Ziz Valley opened out before us, a huge gouge in the plain, incredibly green, contrasting with the drab brown and grey above - definitely one of the more memorable sights.

At the end of the day we arrive on the edge of the Sahara and stopped to fill up with gas. That was when a local came up to us to talk us into getting a guide to drive us off-road to the Saharan dunes rather than taking the main road. As he turned out to be from our hotel, I decided to go along with it as it was only 10 euros. Turned out to be another interesting experience. When we went off road, Mustafa our guide wanted to take over the driving. Even though he was obviously used to it, we were hardly going to do that seeing as we wouldn't be insured. Also, how many chances do you get to drive across the desert? It actually turned out to be a bit of a hoot as Mustafa got the pip as I don't think he liked being driven around by a western woman. The car took a bit of a beating but managed to survive the day and we finally arrived out our hotel with grumpy guide in tow.

We had booked in that night to be taking by camel trek into the dunes by a Berber nomad and spent the night in an isolated Berber camp. As it turned out, we were the only two going out with our little guide Muhammad. But this turned out to be great as we got to spend a lot of time with him and learned quite a bit about how he lives as a nomad. The downer though was the weather. The highlights of going to the Sahara include the sunset, the stars at night, and sunrise - we saw none of them. We actually had some rain - rain in the Sahara desert!! The rain they have had this year is in fact the first rain they have had in 5 years. So the people are happy, but was a little disappointing for us. But because it was so cold, we did endup spending most of the night with Muhammad in the small kitchen hut learning how he made a delicious soup and tangine (those with salmonella phobia would have been a bit worried though), chatting away as best we could. We learnt that Anna in Berber means "me" (very appropriate) and Sam must mean a very hard name to remember. We had lots of fun trying to describe different things to each other and I think our Muhammad was quite smitten with Anna. The whole thing was a great experience - stars or no stars - and was definitely the highlight of the trip.

An early morning start and camel ride back to the hotel to be showered and fed, we said our farewells to Muhammad with him inviting us for a month long trek next time (though I think he might have meant just Anna), and set off again, this time on the road and minus our mate Mustafa. In the morning, we headed out in the midst of a bunch of old Renaults driven by French students involved in a rally driving to Morocco - apparently there was a thousand of them involved and they made quite a convoy. It was another day of stunning scenery, only partly disrupted by the drive through one town which was having its weekly market in the middle of the road and took about half an hour to get through. We arrived out our destination for the next two nights up in the spectacular Dades Gorge. In some places it carves vertically through the mountains and has rocks of a dramatic colour and formation. We spent the next day or so exploring the gorge and enjoying the top class French cuisine of our accommodation - Chez Pierre - which made a nice break from the tangines.

On the Friday we headed off towards our final destination - Marrakech - taking in some awesome Kasbahs and some more of that stunning scenery. However, our final trip was not without a little bit more madness when we found ourselves stopped halfway up the High Atlas Mountains - where we bumped into the convoy of the French rally again. We found out that a gas tanker had had a crash on the other side and the whole road was closed for the next 3 hours (lucky we had booked the car to the next morning!). When we finally got going it was a slow crawl over the mountain pass and we did not arrive in Marrakech until 7pm. This was our first experience of night driving, which we had tried to avoid, and for good reason as turning on your lights is clearly an optional consideration for Moroccan drivers! A fairly harrowing drive through the streets of Friday night Marrakech, we were finally able to negotiate our way to meet the owner of our Riad we were staying in for the last two nights.









Once again our Riad - Dar Dallah - was brilliant, with a great terrace on top that e took full advantage of with the warm weather. Patrick, the owner, despite being a little absent-minded put us onto some great spots for visiting and eating. Again we were surprised how relaxed the city was, though Marrakech was completely different to Fes. It is certainly more touristy (and a lot of the tourists are Moroccan as well), but it is also a lot more open and the Medina is much easier to navigate. Marrakech has a modern and trendy side to it as well and we visited some superb restaurants and cafes that would not look our of place in London or New York. It has a bit of everything really, enough sights to do a bit of touristy stuff, but not too much so you don't feel guilty about spending time relaxing in the sun or over lunch. It has cheap Moroccan markets and (a majority of) friendly locals with some fine dining and top class accommodation.

And this pretty much emphasises how we saw Morocco as a whole - a country of many contrasts, both environmental and social. One day you are enjoying hot sunshine, the next you are waking up to snow; one day you are in the desert, the next in the middle of mountain ranges, and then the next again in midst of a green oasis; one moment you are haggling with a pushy store owner, the next being helped by a stranger on the street. Certainly a interesting and exciting place to visit, it comes highly recommended.

Truism #1

It's a white out!

Up until now we have had a very mild winter - well, much milder than the only other winter I've spent in London - it's been comparable to a Wellington winter (or maybe that should be a Wellington summer!). But, weather always seems to balance itself out, and last night it all changed....

We did have the odd flurry of snow last winter, but nothing that settled. But this morning we woke to a thick white blanket across London, probably about 5cms of snow. It didn't last the day out (still not cold enough for that), but it made for some great pictures this morning....

Hell's Kitchen

Well, if this is Hell's Kitchen, it's pretty tasty. Anna and I treated ourselves to one of Gordon Ramsey's restaurants - at Claridge's Hotel - earlier in the month. It was certainly a great experience - the service was superb, the decor plush, and the food terrific. And watching some of the ponces in there was a bit of a laugh as well.

We had the Menu Prestige menu, which is a little like a degustation, with 6 courses. So what did we have....

1. Bouillon of smoked ham hock with autumn vegetables and 'pease' pudding tortelli.

2(Sam). Ballottine of foie gras marinated in white port, with french bean salad, truffle vinaigrette and toasted brioche.

2(Anna). Risotto blanco with pine nuts and parmesan. (She wasn't brave enough to try the foie gras)

3. Roasted sea scallop, with carrot, pine nut and caper salad.

4(Sam). Steamed line caught sea bass, with crushed potatoes, roasted salsify and vanilla jus.

4(Anna). Roasted loan of Balmoral estate venison, wrapped in parma ham, with honey glazed vegetables and cinnamon and star anise jus.

5. Granny smith apple and calvados bavarois and walnut mousse.

6. Caramalised banana parfait with a coconut tuile and passion fruit glaze. (that's Anna getting stuck into it)

Everything was superbly cooked - Anna claims the risotto is the best she has ever had - and they weren't small portions either. I think we were both pretty much full halfway through the 4th course. By the end of the night we nearly had to roll ourselves out the door. Was a very nice night, though the credit card had the last laugh, as with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses of champagne it cost us £255! Not cheap, but a great experience.