Archive for February, 2010
by Roderick Field | 02.04.10 | Weblog, Weblog, adventures
Fes is never still and never quiet. From the first white light of the day to the hazy thickening dusk, people with heads held straight, are moving with purpose and urgency. Some are carried swiftly by skates or mopeds, all ages ride bicycles, and a Berber strolls along the pavement on his grand white horse. Packs of well dressed children are manoeuvred and cajoled by djellaba clad women. Over at the bus stop, a small boy throws cartwheels as a scooter carrying three, a toddler held firm between her windswept parents, buzzes past leaving blue smoke hanging in its wake. The movement is swift and graceful, the sounds more gruff and violent. They say here that a still head is a stone – dead. They have no saying for a silent head for they have never encountered such a thing. More »
Tags: djellaba, fes, medina, morocco
by Roderick Field | 02.01.10 | Weblog, adventures
Many places around the world are described as well kept secrets. On arrival, as you weave through the densely packed car park, brimming with tour buses, you realise the folly and naivety of your hope to find an undiscovered retreat. Burgenland, at the Austrian heart of Europe however, really is unknown to much of the travelling public. Ask anyone, anywhere (except Austria), and you will more than likely be misunderstood as they mutter directions to the nearest beef-patty theme park, or McDonalds as they are sometimes known.
The federal state of Burgenland was Hungary until 1922, when the residents chose, by way of referendum, to join Austria. On the edge of the recent Eastern Bloc, it has somehow escaped the ravages of industrial progress. Once the Roman country of Pannonia, and before even that, cultivated by the Celts for its good soil and better grapes, it has seen occupation by Germans, Hungarians and Austrians. It has visible clues to later divisions. The abandoned checkpoints of Mörbisch, at the Hungarian border stand now roofless and impotent, being slowly swallowed whole by the twisting undergrowth. I strolled by unnoticed where only a couple of decades ago, several hours of queuing promised no guarantee of a crossing. More »
Tags: austria, burgenland, Hungary, Pannonia, triebaumer
by Roderick Field | 02.01.10 | Weblog, Weblog, adventures
Southall
appears in the midst of suburban west London like a babbling oasis of spicy colour. Known as ‘Little India’ the district is the Indian capital of the UK, and lately hosts coach-loads of European tourists officially sightseeing the bustle. The first South Asians arrived here in the early fifties, believing that close to London is close to riches. Work was plentiful at the new Heathrow Airport and in the local factories. The community grew. By the seventies, most of the big high street names had left and the largely Punjabi 2nd generation had moved into business, providing the growing populace with all things Indian. Today around 60% of the population is of Asian heritage. The counter colonisation is thorough and for all its religious mix, it is quietly settled.
Many of the locals have never seen India though they clearly respect and maintain their cultural, business and culinary roots. People bargain here. They talk to each other; a lot and quickly. The Broadway is swathed in every colour of sari, shop windows glisten with intricate, bright gold jewellery that seems to have been spun by insects and everywhere is the tantalising aroma of jalebi, saffron and mystery. Here you can take in a Bollywood film at the luxurious Himalaya Palace then nip down to the gaudy Glassy Junction pub for a pint of draught Cobra and a real curry before settling up in rupees.
‘Everyone comes to Southall on a mission,’ explains Biljinder, the man behind Rita’s, a smart café attracting diners from all walks of life with its authentic Punjabi menu. ‘The market and streets are choc-a-bloc on a Bank Holiday weekend. We take for granted that we can get a salwar kameez (traditional dress) across the road but people travel hundreds of miles for these things.’ Shopping in Little India is a bespoke wonder. While you wait a tailor will nip and tuck or a jeweller will personalise your purchase. Yet there is no hard-sell; incongruous as it is vital, if this is a satellite of Mother India, it is without the constant hassle . . . and the monsoons.
Biljinder and his father, Kundan (both chefs) are there for ‘when the stomach rumbles.’ They specialise in Chaats; essentially street food, made in-house and daily with prime ingredients including homemade paneer (cheese) and garden fresh spices. Rita’s gets through half a tonne of potatoes each week, testament to the irresistibility of Alu Tikka Chaat – two potato cutlets with chickpeas, tamarind sauce and yoghurt – at under three quid. ‘This is raw Indian, not English Indian food,’ warns Biljinder, and he’s right, the two are continents apart. Here in sunny Southall are the untamed, raucous flavours of hot and tropical India, no cream to soften the bite. ‘And we rarely eat poppadoms,’ he sighs. More »
Tags: food, indian, sari, southall
