I love spicy food.
Indian, Thai, Mexican, generic miscellaneous curries, I love them all. If it were physically possible I would eat a curry for every meal, every day, which why I'm struggling in a city where it's next to impossible to find a decent curry.
Now don't get me wrong, France richly deserves its culinary reputation and there are more than enough curry houses throughout Paris but in a country where restaurants offering international cuisine have only been allowed to open in the past few decades it's near impossible to get a curry which is more than flavoured coconut milk.
This may be why many of my food adventures on my travels include hunting for a good curry.
On a previous visit to London I"d dragged The Boy to the infamous Brick Lane for a feed and stumbled out a few hours later with an over-full stomach and a big grin. The Boy however only uttered "I've had a better curry in Bayswater".
On my most recent trip to London we were booked into a hole of a hotel in Bayswater, and my curry hunger was once again ignited. But I was foiled when out on a pub crawl with friends in West London. I figured there was only so many times I could enthusiastically yell "curry!" (or later on in the pub crawl slur it), before I earned myself a punch in the face. It was about this time that a friend, let's call her B, suggested bypassing curry for Eritrean. I could still get my chilli fix and we'd branch out cuisine-wise a little more than before.
"Eritrean, what the hell is that?" was circling around in my head, but B is easily as big a foodie as The Boy and after having experienced her cooking first hand I had learned to trust her taste in food so off we trundled on a big red bus to Westbourne Park.
The street might have been littered with roadworks, but pushing inside the door of Mosob was like entering a different world where the food actually comes second to the dining experience and you quite literally have to earn your meal. We were seated and immediately given a puzzle - name the nearly 20 capital cities in the world which begin and end with the same letter - to solve by the time our food was brought out.
The meal, which was absolutely delicious, was served on a huge platter for every one to share although we were strictly warned to only eat within our borders, and we were given more puzzles to solve and general info about Eritrea itself.
This time again I stumbled outside into the cold night with an over-full stomach, but it wasn't the food that The Boy, B and I spoke about on the way home but rather about the experience itself.
And I left London a day later a very happy girl!
I wouldn't normally do this but I enjoyed Mosob so much I want to spread the word so check them out at: http://mosob.com/
Thursday, 5 April 2012
Monday, 2 April 2012
Edinburgh: the windy city
I have recently discovered one thing about myself - if I were ever to live in a city with an honest-to-goodness castle in it the first words out of my mouth most days would be "holy shit, there's a castle in my city!".
And there may or may not be a little jig-like shuffle that goes along with that.
Now I know that I already have more than a few palaces in my own city that I pass every day, but there's something about visiting a city like Edinburgh, with a gothic-looking medieval castle looming high above the cobblestone streets which is still absolutely surreal to me and images of knights in shining armour and damsels in distress - or vice versa - immediately flash through my head.
Edinburgh is an amazing city, even second time around there was plenty I still wanted to see and do and explore.
The first time I visited Edinburgh was a flying visit of only two days and just enough time to run through the castle, climb Arthur's Seat and have a wander through some of the streets before moving on again so this time I was determined to do and see a lot more.
With labyrinth-like streets I had thought it would be a city to get lost in, to wander around aimlessly and imagine all that had taken place on those roads over thousands of years but The Boy and I very quickly discovered that was nearly impossible to do.
We set out just after dusk to explore, walking past the lit up castle and down some side streets only to wind up in centre of town but we did discover along the way one of the best pubs I've ever been to. The Brass Monkey. Cold and thirsty (hey, we are Aussies after all) we walked past the front door twice, only catching glimpses through the window of what looked like a small, generic pub which didn't really take my fancy but The Boy was persistent. But walking inside there were rooms filled with board games and chessboards, couches as big as beds surrounded by tables where, we later found out the pub screens movies weekly.
Warm and toasty with a few ciders inside my belly it was hard to bring myself to walk back out into the frosty air but we had disgusting touristy stuff to do like go on ghost tours. Actually not the scary experience I was expecting but a good way to see the town and learn some history.
Bright and early-ish the next morning The Boy and I set out into the sunshine to hike our way up Arthur's Seat to look over the city.
I've heard it described as a big hill, but still after two times I arrived at the top breathless and with shaky legs but amazed at the beautiful views over the city.
However my amazement didn't last long as gale force winds kicked in, and the child in me took over. Jumping and leaping around like idiots The Boy and I were literally being blown away.
But with clouds gathering and the feeling in my fingers and toes gone we started the descent, picking new paths down to see what we could see before rushing up to the castle.
Small but beautiful, Edinburgh Castle is almost exactly what you would expect if you asked a child to describe a medieval castle. Perched on an extinct volcano the small buildings play home to dark cobblestones and winding alleys, beautiful gardens, a quaint little church and wide halls for banquets and dancing. There's even a little cemetery for the dogs of the soldiers. Most impressively the castle is also now the home of the Stone of Scone, the ancient rock Scottish Kings and Queens have been crowned on for centuries which the English captured and used themselves. Returned by Queen Elizabeth II the stone is now back where it belongs.
As night began to fall we took shelter from the cold, first in the Royal Oaks, a cool traditional pub where the locals all gather to sing Scottish songs, then in Brew Dog, a funky bar where they brew their own beer from traditional ales to beers so strong they are sold by the nip. But the threat of an early flight eventually drove us back to the hostel, and we took the slow walk back to the hostel along Princes Street next to the dark and silent gardens.
And there may or may not be a little jig-like shuffle that goes along with that.
Now I know that I already have more than a few palaces in my own city that I pass every day, but there's something about visiting a city like Edinburgh, with a gothic-looking medieval castle looming high above the cobblestone streets which is still absolutely surreal to me and images of knights in shining armour and damsels in distress - or vice versa - immediately flash through my head.
Edinburgh is an amazing city, even second time around there was plenty I still wanted to see and do and explore.
The first time I visited Edinburgh was a flying visit of only two days and just enough time to run through the castle, climb Arthur's Seat and have a wander through some of the streets before moving on again so this time I was determined to do and see a lot more.
With labyrinth-like streets I had thought it would be a city to get lost in, to wander around aimlessly and imagine all that had taken place on those roads over thousands of years but The Boy and I very quickly discovered that was nearly impossible to do.
We set out just after dusk to explore, walking past the lit up castle and down some side streets only to wind up in centre of town but we did discover along the way one of the best pubs I've ever been to. The Brass Monkey. Cold and thirsty (hey, we are Aussies after all) we walked past the front door twice, only catching glimpses through the window of what looked like a small, generic pub which didn't really take my fancy but The Boy was persistent. But walking inside there were rooms filled with board games and chessboards, couches as big as beds surrounded by tables where, we later found out the pub screens movies weekly.
Warm and toasty with a few ciders inside my belly it was hard to bring myself to walk back out into the frosty air but we had disgusting touristy stuff to do like go on ghost tours. Actually not the scary experience I was expecting but a good way to see the town and learn some history.
Bright and early-ish the next morning The Boy and I set out into the sunshine to hike our way up Arthur's Seat to look over the city.
I've heard it described as a big hill, but still after two times I arrived at the top breathless and with shaky legs but amazed at the beautiful views over the city.
However my amazement didn't last long as gale force winds kicked in, and the child in me took over. Jumping and leaping around like idiots The Boy and I were literally being blown away.
But with clouds gathering and the feeling in my fingers and toes gone we started the descent, picking new paths down to see what we could see before rushing up to the castle.
Small but beautiful, Edinburgh Castle is almost exactly what you would expect if you asked a child to describe a medieval castle. Perched on an extinct volcano the small buildings play home to dark cobblestones and winding alleys, beautiful gardens, a quaint little church and wide halls for banquets and dancing. There's even a little cemetery for the dogs of the soldiers. Most impressively the castle is also now the home of the Stone of Scone, the ancient rock Scottish Kings and Queens have been crowned on for centuries which the English captured and used themselves. Returned by Queen Elizabeth II the stone is now back where it belongs.
As night began to fall we took shelter from the cold, first in the Royal Oaks, a cool traditional pub where the locals all gather to sing Scottish songs, then in Brew Dog, a funky bar where they brew their own beer from traditional ales to beers so strong they are sold by the nip. But the threat of an early flight eventually drove us back to the hostel, and we took the slow walk back to the hostel along Princes Street next to the dark and silent gardens.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
I heart Leeds
Dangerous. Boring. Dirty.
It's fair to say Leeds was one city I travelled to grudgingly with my many pre-conceptions, all of which were bad, firmly in place.
I stepped off the bus and walked a grand total of 100 metres, barely making it past the heritage-listed market place and immediately wanted to hit myself upside the head because, to put it simply, Leeds is awesome!
A mixture of beautiful architecture and funky shops and alleyways as well as plenty of watering holes and live music venues, there was something new to discover around every corner... and two days spent wandering arond this small city helped me to discover most of it.
So here is my Leeds - in a nutshell:
Shopping
First up vintage-lovers take note: these are some of the best vintage stores I've ever browsed through.
Blue Rinse vintage was a two-storey shop with a mixture of fantastic vintage for men and women and up-and-coming designers made from up-cycled clothes. With boxes of accessories lining the stairs and The Ramones pumping out The Boy had a hard time dragging me out the door.
Further down near the bus station is another little gem called Paper Doll Vintage. Sharing a space with a hair salon there were gorgeous dresses and knick-knacks a-plenty, or there is also the Corn Exchange which played home to a number of funky shops.
Food
But being the foodie that he is, no trip with The Boy is complete without a foodie foray and this is another area where I was pleasantly surprised to find Leeds excelled.
Walking into town from the bus stop The Boy and I walked past a little joint called Gravely's Fish and Chips, which would have drawn us in from the smell alone, but after chatting with a local we discovered this is THE place to go for delicious fish and chips. So we bought up - fish, fish cake and crispy chips - and perched on a car park barrier in the brittle winter sunshine The Boy and I munched on our goodies while plotting our next move into the food market. And the best bit? An elderly local walking past and telling us to enjoy our meal. You just don't get that every where.
Walking around the huge indoor/outdoor market we spent ages doing a bizarre interpretation of window shopping where we'd choose what seafood/meat/pastry we'd buy if we could and the meal we'd cook with it. And they say romance is dead.
But best of all - for a beer lover at least- was The Brewery Tap. A pub/restaurant combination The Brewery Tap also plays home to a micro-brewery and also uses beer in most of their food. I might already jump up and down in Anglo-Saxon glory at the prospect of a chicken and mushroom pie with mash potatoes in most pubs but add beer into the combination and I'm one happy gal.
It's fair to say Leeds was one city I travelled to grudgingly with my many pre-conceptions, all of which were bad, firmly in place.
I stepped off the bus and walked a grand total of 100 metres, barely making it past the heritage-listed market place and immediately wanted to hit myself upside the head because, to put it simply, Leeds is awesome!
A mixture of beautiful architecture and funky shops and alleyways as well as plenty of watering holes and live music venues, there was something new to discover around every corner... and two days spent wandering arond this small city helped me to discover most of it.
So here is my Leeds - in a nutshell:
Shopping
First up vintage-lovers take note: these are some of the best vintage stores I've ever browsed through.
Further down near the bus station is another little gem called Paper Doll Vintage. Sharing a space with a hair salon there were gorgeous dresses and knick-knacks a-plenty, or there is also the Corn Exchange which played home to a number of funky shops.
Food
But being the foodie that he is, no trip with The Boy is complete without a foodie foray and this is another area where I was pleasantly surprised to find Leeds excelled.
Walking into town from the bus stop The Boy and I walked past a little joint called Gravely's Fish and Chips, which would have drawn us in from the smell alone, but after chatting with a local we discovered this is THE place to go for delicious fish and chips. So we bought up - fish, fish cake and crispy chips - and perched on a car park barrier in the brittle winter sunshine The Boy and I munched on our goodies while plotting our next move into the food market. And the best bit? An elderly local walking past and telling us to enjoy our meal. You just don't get that every where.
Walking around the huge indoor/outdoor market we spent ages doing a bizarre interpretation of window shopping where we'd choose what seafood/meat/pastry we'd buy if we could and the meal we'd cook with it. And they say romance is dead.
But best of all - for a beer lover at least- was The Brewery Tap. A pub/restaurant combination The Brewery Tap also plays home to a micro-brewery and also uses beer in most of their food. I might already jump up and down in Anglo-Saxon glory at the prospect of a chicken and mushroom pie with mash potatoes in most pubs but add beer into the combination and I'm one happy gal.
As cliche as it sounds, even after extending my stay, two days in Leeds just wasn't enough.
Monday, 5 March 2012
The Emerald Isle
One of the perks of living in Europe is how close you are to so many other cities and cultures that are just waiting to be explored, which was why The Boy had to look on in bemusement recently as I did a happy dance complete with girly squeal - cheap flights to Dublin had been found and secured!
So it was that we packed our bag (literally, he put some serious limitations on my packing) and jetted off for four hectic days in the Emerald Isle.
To tell the truth, I had been to Dublin before, back in 2007 when I celebrated graduating from university with a four month jaunt across Europe. My brother, disgusted that I travelled all that way without heading to Ireland did the amazing and bought me a cheap ticket to Dublin so I could have 24 Guinness-filled hours and a traipse around Temple Bar before the long haul flight back to Oz, complete with the memory of the grilling the border security guard gave me about why it was I had already been in two other countries that day.
It was, however, The Boy's first time so heady with excitement - which somehow managed to survive the early morning wake up call and the hour-and-a-half bus ride out to Beauvais airport -we took off on a cold and grey January afternoon.
Against all the odds the Dublin we flew into was lit up with golden sunshine and so we sat in silence, rubber-necking at every thing in sight for the 20 minute ride into town - only to discover that we had left all the details for our hostel on the kitchen bench back in Paris. But never let it be said The Boy and I are easily defeated, only easily distracted, especially after discovering that just because there's sunshine doesn't mean there is warmth involved in the light!
We jumped off the bus at Temple Bar and strolled around the colourful, cobblestone streets poking our heads down alleyways and following any street which looked like it might hold something interesting to us before settling ourselves down for a welcome to Ireland pint and a good pub meal after a whole 15 minutes of searching for where we would bunk down for the night.
The Old Storehouse was one of those Irish pubs with memorabilia-covered walls and dark wood furniture. It also, luckily for us, had Guinness and Smithwicks on tap where we discovered the saying is true; the more water between the Guinness and Ireland the worse it is: in Ireland it is actually drinkable and what's more I actually like it.
A few hours later, hostel found and fingers and toes thawed we hit the streets again to explore but discovered that as born and bred Aussies, Ireland in winter was a wee bit cold and a pub crawl was in order. First up was The Brazen Head - the oldest pub in Ireland.
Established in 1198 there has been a pub standing in that spot continuously since, and let me tell you it is worth it! Open fires - check. Dark, cosy corners - check. Great food and drinks - check.
Heading back out into the night we took off across town, stopping in at any pub that took our fancy, as well as to admire the sights including the lit up Christ Church Cathedral before eventually winding up at The Stag's Head pub which was the Lonely Planet's recommendation for food. Massive fail as they don't actually serve dinner but they do play host to a free comedy show each week which goes above and beyond the standard general life observations peppered with swearing I've previously been exposed to and is actually, dare I say it, funny.
Day two in Ireland resulted in a trip to the Jameson Distillery where The Boy entered seventh heaven and I discovered a previously unknown liking for whisky, and some more exploration of the tiny city including a trip to the Modern Art Museum which is located behind a castle-like turret and leafy park entrance, and a walk along the River Liffey. But no trip to Dublin would be complete without a stroll along O'Connell Street to see the post office still bearing scars (and bullet holes) from the 1916 Easter Uprising and a visit to the famous Whelan's Pub where movies like The Commitments and P.S. I Love You were filmed.
Our final full day we took off, boarded a bus for the west coast and explored the country side which was nothing like the smooth, green rolling hills I'd imagined. Grey-green, craggy and often dotted with giant limestone rocks it was bleakly beautiful. The Boy and I took the opportunity to climb up into the hills and to look out over the farmlands and out to the ocean and I realised every pre-conceived conception I'd had about Ireland had been wrong.
But it was the Cliffs of Moher which took my breath away, with the smooth stone giving away to crashing waves and a myriad of birds soaring and diving on their way out to sea. If only for this, the two hour drive from Dublin was completely worth it.
We had an hour in magical, magical Galway which I will forever wish I had longer to explore before we shot back to Dublin and cosied up in The Cobblestone for a farewell whiskey and some live music.
I had realised that even in Ireland there are fake, kitschy Irish pubs but the Cobblestone was one of those great tip-offs only a local can give you: full of character and locals popping in for a pint on their way home or to jam with the group nestled in the corner with violins and guitars.
But the time had rushed past way too quickly and it was time to head home, but even the walk back to the Four Courts and after the alarm for the flight back to Paris had been set for a mere 4 hours later couldn't dim the joy this trip had brought me.
So it was that we packed our bag (literally, he put some serious limitations on my packing) and jetted off for four hectic days in the Emerald Isle.
To tell the truth, I had been to Dublin before, back in 2007 when I celebrated graduating from university with a four month jaunt across Europe. My brother, disgusted that I travelled all that way without heading to Ireland did the amazing and bought me a cheap ticket to Dublin so I could have 24 Guinness-filled hours and a traipse around Temple Bar before the long haul flight back to Oz, complete with the memory of the grilling the border security guard gave me about why it was I had already been in two other countries that day.
It was, however, The Boy's first time so heady with excitement - which somehow managed to survive the early morning wake up call and the hour-and-a-half bus ride out to Beauvais airport -we took off on a cold and grey January afternoon.
Against all the odds the Dublin we flew into was lit up with golden sunshine and so we sat in silence, rubber-necking at every thing in sight for the 20 minute ride into town - only to discover that we had left all the details for our hostel on the kitchen bench back in Paris. But never let it be said The Boy and I are easily defeated, only easily distracted, especially after discovering that just because there's sunshine doesn't mean there is warmth involved in the light!
We jumped off the bus at Temple Bar and strolled around the colourful, cobblestone streets poking our heads down alleyways and following any street which looked like it might hold something interesting to us before settling ourselves down for a welcome to Ireland pint and a good pub meal after a whole 15 minutes of searching for where we would bunk down for the night.
The Old Storehouse was one of those Irish pubs with memorabilia-covered walls and dark wood furniture. It also, luckily for us, had Guinness and Smithwicks on tap where we discovered the saying is true; the more water between the Guinness and Ireland the worse it is: in Ireland it is actually drinkable and what's more I actually like it.
 |
| The Old Storehouse |
A few hours later, hostel found and fingers and toes thawed we hit the streets again to explore but discovered that as born and bred Aussies, Ireland in winter was a wee bit cold and a pub crawl was in order. First up was The Brazen Head - the oldest pub in Ireland.
Established in 1198 there has been a pub standing in that spot continuously since, and let me tell you it is worth it! Open fires - check. Dark, cosy corners - check. Great food and drinks - check.
Heading back out into the night we took off across town, stopping in at any pub that took our fancy, as well as to admire the sights including the lit up Christ Church Cathedral before eventually winding up at The Stag's Head pub which was the Lonely Planet's recommendation for food. Massive fail as they don't actually serve dinner but they do play host to a free comedy show each week which goes above and beyond the standard general life observations peppered with swearing I've previously been exposed to and is actually, dare I say it, funny.
 |
| Christ Church Cathedral |
Day two in Ireland resulted in a trip to the Jameson Distillery where The Boy entered seventh heaven and I discovered a previously unknown liking for whisky, and some more exploration of the tiny city including a trip to the Modern Art Museum which is located behind a castle-like turret and leafy park entrance, and a walk along the River Liffey. But no trip to Dublin would be complete without a stroll along O'Connell Street to see the post office still bearing scars (and bullet holes) from the 1916 Easter Uprising and a visit to the famous Whelan's Pub where movies like The Commitments and P.S. I Love You were filmed.
Our final full day we took off, boarded a bus for the west coast and explored the country side which was nothing like the smooth, green rolling hills I'd imagined. Grey-green, craggy and often dotted with giant limestone rocks it was bleakly beautiful. The Boy and I took the opportunity to climb up into the hills and to look out over the farmlands and out to the ocean and I realised every pre-conceived conception I'd had about Ireland had been wrong.
 |
| The Burren |
 |
| The Cliffs of Moher |
We had an hour in magical, magical Galway which I will forever wish I had longer to explore before we shot back to Dublin and cosied up in The Cobblestone for a farewell whiskey and some live music.
I had realised that even in Ireland there are fake, kitschy Irish pubs but the Cobblestone was one of those great tip-offs only a local can give you: full of character and locals popping in for a pint on their way home or to jam with the group nestled in the corner with violins and guitars.
But the time had rushed past way too quickly and it was time to head home, but even the walk back to the Four Courts and after the alarm for the flight back to Paris had been set for a mere 4 hours later couldn't dim the joy this trip had brought me.
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Playing tourist
As the months pass and I settle into a comfortable daily routine here in Paris I'm embarrassed to admit that I have stopped playing the tourist in this beautiful city.
My days off work are normally spent catching up with friends or running errands and my regular run along the Seine and under the Eiffel Tower has become almost routine and I no longer stop to stare and do a little dance when I reach the corner when I first catch a glimpse of the famous monument.
But the recent visit of an Aussie friend helped to open my eyes again and also helped to make me aware that although I now have the general gist of the layout of Paris there's still so much more I have to explore.
There's nothing like seeing a city again through someone else's eyes to reignite your curiosity again, and in a matter of hours after the arrival of the divine Miss S The Boy and I had already trekked to the very top of the Eiffel Tower on a beautifully clear and crisp afternoon - the last in a long time - followed by a sunset cruise along the Seine pointing out our favourite landmarks.
The day was beautiful but freezing and after we had lost feeling in our hands and feet we stumbled back to Trocadero to guzzle down some Vin Chaud and nutella crepes.
During the following five days we headed to the Louvre, the Catacombs, Montmartre and Abbessess, Notre Dame, walked the length of the Champs Elysses and had many nights out on the town and I was appalled by how blasé I'd already become about my new home, and how much of my travel planning was about other places in Europe I wanted to go to rather than what I would do the next day. Worst of all I was ashamed it had taken a friend's excitement to re-awaken it all for me.
But no more. Cut to a brand new year and I've got me a brand new resolution: to go out and explore every day some more of my new town and to drink in this once in a lifetime experience!
My days off work are normally spent catching up with friends or running errands and my regular run along the Seine and under the Eiffel Tower has become almost routine and I no longer stop to stare and do a little dance when I reach the corner when I first catch a glimpse of the famous monument.
But the recent visit of an Aussie friend helped to open my eyes again and also helped to make me aware that although I now have the general gist of the layout of Paris there's still so much more I have to explore.
There's nothing like seeing a city again through someone else's eyes to reignite your curiosity again, and in a matter of hours after the arrival of the divine Miss S The Boy and I had already trekked to the very top of the Eiffel Tower on a beautifully clear and crisp afternoon - the last in a long time - followed by a sunset cruise along the Seine pointing out our favourite landmarks.
The day was beautiful but freezing and after we had lost feeling in our hands and feet we stumbled back to Trocadero to guzzle down some Vin Chaud and nutella crepes.
During the following five days we headed to the Louvre, the Catacombs, Montmartre and Abbessess, Notre Dame, walked the length of the Champs Elysses and had many nights out on the town and I was appalled by how blasé I'd already become about my new home, and how much of my travel planning was about other places in Europe I wanted to go to rather than what I would do the next day. Worst of all I was ashamed it had taken a friend's excitement to re-awaken it all for me.
But no more. Cut to a brand new year and I've got me a brand new resolution: to go out and explore every day some more of my new town and to drink in this once in a lifetime experience!
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