THE PERFECT ENGLISH BRAAI

The perfect braai

When asked what you would like to have as a last meal, I am willing to bet that many South Africans would answer – “‘n BRAAI”. The basic ingredients will be “boerewors” and chops, but every household would have their own unique “bykosse”. The braai is an institution, with its own etiquette, rituals and specialised equipment enjoyed by most South African households. This love for a lekker braai does not diminish when you leave South Africa’s borders; instead it becomes even more revered.

In England the presence of a braai will identify the occupants of a house even more so than the South African flag hanging in the window. In this country the God of the braai, the weather, rules with an iron fist. In most parts of South Africa a braai can be organised a few days/weeks in advance and there will be a reasonably good possibility that the weather will play along, but if not the indoor braai is a viable back-up. In the UK things work a little bit differently.

You can wake up to a sunny sky with no clouds to be seen and the promise of beautiful day. The thought of a braai might occur, BUT beware – organising a braai for later that day will be premature. By lunchtime it will be raining just for the sun to reappear again at 6pm, but any form of prediction will be just plain stupid, not even BBC weather gets it right.

So the trick is an instant braai. You can organise the entire braai on the bus ride back from work (or listen to another person doing it). Luckily the very English butcher at the bus stop sells boerewors and chops at a reasonable price. Assigning tong-master duties, sourcing charcoal, salad and drinks is less tricky than predicting the weather. Just a few phone calls and you are set for a lovely evening of sunshine until 10pm.

The only thing that can now go wrong is the weather. To combat the weather God’s mood swings I recommend the most important component of a successful braai – the umbrella (preferably a big one). The tong-master and the umbrella king will get wet, but if all goes well you should enjoy a very successful English Braai. They might not happen that often, but believe me – it only makes you appreciate the English summer so much more.

THE iPHONE AND OTHER REMARKABLE GADGETS

I remember that once upon a time I wanted one. This “need” only lasted for a couple of days. Logic took over once I realised that my current phone does the job, that I have access to internet most of the day anyway and that the £30 extra every month could be used more constructively on, urmmmm, I don’t really know, maybe shoes or make-up.

So the phase passed and I am happy to report that life without an iPhone appears to be fine. It could be better with one, but I seem to manage somehow. I do know a few people who view the world before the iPhone as a dark place. The guys love to whip it out over a beer to look at maps of Manhattan, discuss the weather or just as a party trick to impress a few girls by doing something useful like checking out train times.

Yesterday I came to the realisation that I don’t know a single female with an iPhone. So, just in case I don’t know any cool people, I decided to ask around hoping that my friends will know somebody from the “in” crowd. Then it dawned on us – we don’t know many non-males who own an iPhone (or any other new generation smart phone). It just doesn’t seem to be a chick thing in my (extended) crowd.

Neither have I heard a female declaring her intention to save up for a HD wide flat screen TVs or xbox/ ninetento,/playstations/wii game playing device you connect to your super TV. Don’t get me wrong, we are not entirely gadget free. Most of us have iPods that we are happy to use without complete sound block earphones, we see the need for a GPS and we do own laptops which we mainly use for communication, admin and entertainment in the form of movies, nothing more complicated.

I spot a pattern – we have gadgets that (usually) serve a purpose. Take a food blender for instance, we need one, we buy one and everybody in the household benefits. Or a ghd hair straightener (which I am not entirely sure qualifies as a gadget) even used by females with straight hair, a piece of equipment responsible for making life easier, not more fun.

Men might be from Mars and women from Venus, but I bet you Mars will have a surround sound entertainment centre while Venus will be kitted out with everything you actually need.

Barcelona & Tamariu

Here are some pictures from recent trip to Barcelona and Tamariu in Spain.

A few things that I really enjoyed in Barcelona:

• Antonio Gaudí’s work
• The Magic Fountain Show
• The food

I must admit, I don’t know much about architecture, but I love discovering a artist who’s work I haven’t seen before. Gaudi is both an artist and a scientist who managed to build the most amazing structures, yet being extremely practical and clever using colour and light. I would love to spend some more time discovering the magical world he has created.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GPS

After a long day in the office I’m driving home on one of the Europe’s busiest highways, which our computer technician calls the the M25 parking lot and I’m happy to report, no traffic jams. I know this because my GPS told me so, but if there were any delays or roadworks my radio will interrupt my CD player with traffic updates from the radio, keeping me informed of current developments.

I phone my house mates using the blue-tooth hands-free function on my GPS to inform them that my estimated time of arrival according to the GPS is 20:40. I parked in front of the house at 20:41.

I take a wrong exit at one of the many roundabouts (oh, how I do dislike UK roundabouts), but not to worry, the GPS recalculates and I’m redirected without loosing any time. It tells me when to stay left, where to get petrol, what route is fastest/shortest/most fuel efficient and in any language I want.

The best of all though is the speed camera warning system. It does a brilliant job of informing me of upcoming cameras, just in case you are speeding, and goes all red when you are actually over the limit (not that I see that often).

Arriving home, I unhook the GPS and wonder, how on earth did anybody ever drive anywhere without one and how did I manage to stay alive doing so? I definitely would have had far more speeding fines and might have still been driving around, lost in one of the lesser nice London areas.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love maps and I’ll be out of a job if people had to stop reading maps. I’m a great believer in knowing where you are and finding your own way, but I am very grateful for the $12 billion provided by the American taxpayer to set up the system. I have a feeling that we are only now discovering what the GPS can do for us.

From Time Magazine

So happy birthday to the GPS who celebrated its 20th birthday this year. To quote the Time Magazine “On a planet of 6 billion souls, GPS helps us to find ourselves. But it sometimes dazzles us so much that we forget what we still seek”.

ROMA

I have to admit, I don’t know where to start writing about our trip to Rome a few weeks ago. Rome (and The Vatican) reminds me of Egypt, not geographically, but rather the feeling of being overwhelmed by a world long gone. Unless you have studied it for many years (read extensively) it is very difficult to come to terms with the time-scales, history and opulence represented by the many ruins and old buildings scattered across the city.

Our first challenge was passport control where we were met with queues of people from an Asian flight all wearing face masks. We were a bit nervous, thinking that we had missed warnings of unthinkable diseases, but soon realised that we should be able to handle the pollution they anticipated. Unlike our other trips we decided to use an apartment rather than a hotel room as our base for the weekend. The first challenge was to find the office which was followed by locating the apartment. Situated in the older less touristy part of town within walking distance of everything (admittedly, our walking distance is a bit further than the average person’s) our apartment ticked the location box. The only mystery is how they managed to make it look so big in the photos on the site. I tried from various angles, but was unable to enhance the size at such a scale. It was clean and pretty, had linen and was safe.

Hint # 1: Wine is cheaper than water and soft drinks. Do not order water (with or without gas) if you want to have a heart attack, but don’t despair, the wine is good and far too drinkable and the food is as good as you could expect from Italy.

Hint # 2: Do The Vatican with a guided tour. Even though expensive, it was worth every penny and you also benefit by skipping the queues. Our very enthusiastic guide with the most beautiful English put everything into perspective and you understand what you are looking at. The treasures collected through the centuries by the Roman church are just an introduction to rest of this incredible world. Spending a few minutes looking up at the Sistine Chapel is enough to give you neck pains, I have now idea how anybody could paint it. The Raphael Rooms introduced me to the art of tapestry, while I could spend days in the room with the ancient maps of the Roman Empire. St Peters Basilica which was build out of materials raided from many Roman buildings, is so massive, you lose perspective of size.

Hint # 3: Avoid the queues. Where possible go early, carry lots of water and be prepared to face many tour groups.

Hint # 4: Go to mass. We by accident stumbled into a service in one of the four main Basilicas near our apartment late Friday afternoon. Not only is it amazing to see another beautiful church, but experiencing a service in Latin with a full choir is magical.

Hint # 5: Stop for Gelato as often as possible. Don’t sit down to eat it at a restaurant, you’ll pay 3 times as much as what you would pay for it if you had to get take-away and eat it somewhere with a beautiful view.

If I have to describe all the sites I’ll exceed my word limit and definitely put you to sleep, but another highlight has to be the Colosseum. I’m usually disappointed when I see well known sites for the first time (Big Ben, Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids & Statue of Liberty), but the Colosseum left me breathless and that was even before we went in. The Romans knew how to create a show for the masses.

Some of the things we managed to fit in during the 3 days there:
Eating, The Pantheon , the Spanish Steps, sipping vino, Palentine Hill, Fount Trevi, food, the Roman Forum, criss-crossing the city by foot, more vino, exploring Trastevere at night, Circus Maximus, pizza/pasta, Villa Borghese Park, San Giovanni (official Cathedral of Rome), San Clemente (12 Century Roman church with it’s layers underneath of 4th century Christian church on top of 1st Century Roman household), eating, all the Piazzas and did I mention, WALKING.

I think the entire experience was summed up by a friend, who while walking home late one night refused to stop at a historic site for some pictures- “not anther ruin” she sighed. I think she might have mumbled something about rather finding some Gelato.

In my list of places to visit, Rome definitely takes one of the top spots, but be prepared to spend money, encounter many tourists, walk a lot and be transported to another world.

For some more pics, click here

OUT WITH THE OLD, IN WITH THE NEW

Even though it is hard to let go of a relationship, there comes a day in a person’s life that you have to face the fact that it’s all over. After a beautiful 3 and ½ years I have come to the realisation that it is time to move on. You have stayed up with me during late nights working hard and probably know the content of my thesis just as well as I do. You have been a wonderful companion during our travels through Europe, providing entertainment at lonely airports, and when I decided to move to UK you were ready and willing to face the unknown with me. You have sat through many hours of movies and series and were always ready for a game. Most importantly, you have been my contact to the outside word acting as a telephone, a postman and have helped me look for work.

Even though I was very reluctant to do so, I’ve finally came to the realisation that it is time to swap you in for a newer and younger model. Surely a laptop loses the right to be called a laptop when the battery doesn’t work anymore and you can’t move it from your desk and even though lines are very in vogue at the moment, it just didn’t suite my screen very well.

A few years ago I used to know something about computers, but around the time the dual core processors entered the marked I’ve stopped following fashionable processor speed and ram size and have successfully managed to avoid Windows Vista. Not only was I looking for a new computer, but also had to update my computer lingo and jargon to include HDVI slots and dedicated graphics cards.

After many questions, some reading up and many hours on the web I finally managed to locate the laptop that could be good enough to replace my current one and sort of within my budget range. After many hours of copying data and setting up everything I need I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll be able to manage with Vista. I’m yet to use the finger print scanner and in-built webcam, but I’m happy to conclude that I am looking forward to this new relationship where I can use my laptop, well on my lap.

Packing away my old computer was rather more emotional than I expected, but like all new relationships, the initial few weeks of discovering and getting to know each other has been an experience.

WALES

Although I love discovering new countries and foreign cities, I have to confess, it’s difficult to beat a road trip with a bunch of mates. Even though Africa is a good place to be if you are a road trip fanatic, Great Britain is remarkable because it provides hidden treasures you didn’t expect.

The ideal road trip requires as little planning as possible, and climbing in a car and deciding where you want to go once you’ve left home is idyllic. Unfortunately this is not possible over the busiest weekend (Easter) of the year and we were forced to plan ahead. So was selected and the itinerary was well planned.

A quick stop in onen-route did not inspired us to write any great plays and we moved through country lanes to reach Snowdonia. This part of is a huge national park and no other word than magical can be used to describe the scenery. Parts of it look like it was frozen in time, with old cottages, traditional farms and friendly people. It is heaven for the outdoor type, with loads of hiking and cycling routes and beautiful picnic spots – weather permitting naturally.

Our first quest was to climb MountSnowdon(the highest mountain in Walesand). Please note: I am referring to mountain and not hill, this is not an expedition to be taken lightly. The people who climb this hill/peak/mountain take the task very seriously and a lot of money and time goes into buying the right outfits and gear, leaving us looking rather out of place with our regular trainers and jeans and no walking sticks. The climb itself starts of pretty easily and gradual, but soon you begin climbing and the realisation that this could be more challenging than you anticipated sets in. Thousands of people with their dogs climb it, which provides a unique atmosphere. The relief and view when you reach the summit is remarkable and well worth the “suffering”.

The next day included a trip to Conwy Caste (on the recommendation of our hostess), without getting into the details of the history, as castles go, this one is a pretty incredible site.

We continued our exploration on horseback, something that should have been a relief after the climb. Some of us were more comfortable while other individuals looked at the mountain bikers with a little envy. We mostly had an amazing time riding through the forests and hills and even managed to bond with our horses when we weren’t fighting with them to stop grazing. Some people in the party took the Easter spirit extremely seriously and provided way too many sweets and chocolates, hence other members of the party feeling sick from overindulgence. Except for this minor hiccup (they were back at it the next day) and (so far) no speeding fines, I am happy to report that we made it home safely. Admittedly, we were VERY lucky weather-wise, striking 1 of the only 2 weekends of sunshine in Wales, while it was colder in Majorcaand London.

I have never seen so many people hurting so much (a deadly combination of mountain and horse) after a relaxing weekend in the countryside, but it was worth every ache and pain and Wales can definitely be added to my list of “must see” in UK.

For some photos, click here

From North Wales

A NICE TIME IN NICE

Taking the tube is dangerous. I am not referring to the daily perils you might encounter, such as the gap that you need to mind or anybody who talks louder than the accepted whisper. No, I am referring to running into friends, because by the end of your journey you might have planned a trip to France.

It’s really simple; you need to go to France because you need a Shengen visa. I know I often don’t speak highly of the French, but when it comes to giving visas they are by far the most generous European nation and usually provide you with a 6 month visa (or even a 1 year visa if all your paper work is in order) then which enables you to travel the rest of Europe. For this reason you are forced to go to France at least once a year for visa purposes.

So to do something new we settled on southern France and on the recommendation of many who have been before, we decided on Nice. Yes, I know what you are going to ask: was Nice nice? Nice is a mixture of Margate and Strand (in SA). The new part has plenty of huge hotels/casinos with a dual-carriageway, the standard boulevard and a little beach. It’s tacky. Luckily I stuck to my philosophy of always staying in old part of town and yet again, I was right.

Old Nice is typical French – dark, dirty, dilapidated with no space and plenty of places from which food can be obtained (such as ice cream stands, markets, restaurants, bakeries, Bistros). Unlike any other parts of France I’ve ever been to the people actually attempt to communicate and I think I spotted a smile or two.

Monaco on the other hand is a different world. It is beautiful, clean, light and airy, yet steeped in history and tradition. Modern and old seems to complement each other to create a very unique little kingdom. You are immediately aware of the abundance of cash. It is a world very far removed from the African squatter camps on a continent not too far away.

All in all, I can recommend a few days in southern France, but only if you include a day trip to Monaco (I doubt I know many people who could afford a night there). The food is good, the French are friendlier and it’s a unique part of France. I do not recommend buying a cocktail in a casino in Monaco, for the same amount you can buy a good bottle of South African wine.

France vs Italy – Italy still wins!

For some pics – click here

SAILING

I am sailing, I am sailing,
Home again cross the sea.
- Rod Steward

On my very long list of things to do before I die, sailing has never featured anywhere. So when an old school friend e-mailed me the details of a sailing weekend in Portsmouth I said yes for two reasons, none related to boats.

1) To meet new people, because surely sailors should be good party people and

2) a weekend out of London. Don’t get me wrong; I love London, but the only thing better than living in London is a couple of days out of London.

So I said yes and the two of us, not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into, met up with the rest of the group. We started the train journey, tired and rather down after a very long week of hard work and the usual visa trouble. We returned on Sunday morning even more tired and worn out, but due to totally different reasons – lack of sleep, loads of talking and laughing, some drinking and a new found love for sailing.

Sailing is an incredible experience and I sincerely hope you have the opportunity to enjoy it at least once in your lifetime.

Now that I have been exposed to the world of sailing, the bug has bitten. I love boats, the clever way a small space can be turned into a comfortable living area has always fascinated me. There is something magical about being on the ocean, watching the harbor, coastline and other boats glide by and being in an environment without mobile phones or internet connection.

Sailboats in particular have grabbed my attention, the science behind the setup of the sails and how the power of wind is harnessed to move small and large vessels still remains one of human’s greatest achievements. BUT, the best part of it all – navigation. Being surrounded by compasses, maps and charts and GPS’s must be my interpretation of heaven.

I have learned a valuable lesson; always say yes for something new. Sometimes you might not enjoy the experience, but it’s worth it for that one time where you are exposed to an entire new world, group of people full of fun and magical sunsets.

THE JOYS OF IKEA

Just a quick note on what the Ikea phenomena entails for anybody who has never had the luck of a trip to this remarkable store. Ikea furniture is by no means any contest for the antique market and no respectable interior decorator will be seen dead in an Ikea store (they might use the online catalogue though), but the concept fascinates me.

Without sounding like an advertisement I’ll try and explain the concept to you:
For students or immigrants who arrived with only 20kg of luggage or anybody who has just spent a fortune on buying their own abode ( but who has not inherited unwanted furniture from the family), Ikea provide the perfect solution. You can kit out your entire house/flat/maisonette/cottage/ROOM excluding electrical appliances with everything you need in one foul sweep. There are hundreds of styles to choose from, while quality and prices range to suite your budget. I love the show room concept where a room is displayed from a specific range, which provides a “stylish” setting for the unimaginative. I am still looking for an excuse to use the wardrobe and kitchen planner facilities.

Luckily for us, we have moved into an already furnished house with most things we could need. Unfortunately, with our shopping habits, we have run out of packing space, we need to replace some worn-out house stuff from time to time, we also have house mates who break glass-top kitchen tables and our 20kg luggage did not include essential bedding and linen.

This means an outing to Ikea - something akin to a day at a theme park for me. You can walk around for hours, stop for lunch and make vital decorating decisions over a cup of cappuccino. And unless you are buying boring things such as towels, shower curtains or coffee mugs the really fun part starts after you have selected your items. At this stage I have to inform you that Ikea’s furniture works on the flat-pack concept. Flat-pack means that you have to assemble you newly acquired show piece furniture yourself, thus adding a toolkit to your shopping cart is highly recommended (just for safety, I also bought a sewing kit).

There is something rather empowering about putting your new assets together yourself. Now admittedly I haven’t attempted anything very complicated – such as building my own bathroom, but I am extremely proud of my (and here I have to give credit to my housemates) handiwork. We seem to be very adept at following complicated picture instructions, all our chest of drawers still seem to function (even if it was hammered together with a hairbrush), the kitchen table does not wobble and the lamp stands seem to look like the ones in the showroom. All credit to the furniture designers who seem to know that the average person who assembles their furniture does not have a relevant qualification. This excludes my male (colleague) with an engineering degree (chemical though) that did take three days to put together his cupboard and my former housemates (may I add, also male) who made a complete hash of assembling a simple TV stand. Do I spot a pattern?

Hopefully one day I will be able to upgrade from Ikea furniture, but at least now I understand the pleasure of enjoying your own handiwork on a daily basis – or until it collapses anyway.