You're a (Euro)Star

The big day has arrived where I bid sunny, cloudy, rainy, thundery, humid London a sad farewell. The Hostess has arranged for a driver to take me to Waterloo International at 9am and right on cue he arrives.

The drop off point is right at arrivals - walk through the door and voilà, there you are - no hiking up stairs, trekking through mazes or fighting escalators. I check once more about validating my Europass (yes, call me paranoid) and am once again directed to Check-in counter 3. However, it seems in this trip, things never run as they should. At check in I’m told that they no longer validate passes and I have to do it at the other end. Now the person who just told me is 3 foot away from the one that told me to go to counter 3. When I point it out, she brushes it off and says that they should know that they don’t do it anymore. With that, my Eurostar ticked is swiped and i’m allowed through.

First point is x-ray - jackets have to be removed, everything is scanned and I pass the metal detector without a problem.

The next point is immigration - well it’s double immigration. First, you go through the British officials and about 2 paces away are the French. I’m welcomed through with a traditional welcoming scowl. I feel that french charm already.

The terminal is akin to an airport - a long corridor, with platform entry escalators along its length, on the sides are duty free shops, newsagents, tacky giftware perfect for those relatives you can’t stand and there’s also a few cafés/bars.

Finding a seat initially isn’t a problem but the lack of seating is apparent when more passengers arrive. Two trains are scheduled to leave within 5 minutes of each other. I’m sure the lack of seating is a ploy to get people into the cafe’s. I’m kind of amazed at the number of people having full strength pints of ale at 9.30 in the morning. But what should I know. I’m not British.

Boarding commences 15 minutes prior to departure and as things would have it, I once again pick the wrong entrance. It’s not as bad as it could have been - I arrive on the platform at carriage 1 - i’m in number 7 - i’m consoled by the knowledge that i could have been seated in carriage 18! Though by the end of the trip I wish I was.

The carriage layout for first (it’s different in premium first and standard) - it’s a one seat - aisle - two seat arrangement - some chairs are facing to form groups of four or 2 - i’m facing forward in a single. It’s decorated in the Eurostar colours, silvery-grey and red. Wide velour seats with moveable armrests, tray table squeals and squawks its way out from the seat in front, a small bin is attached to the wall - the walls are also red.

The interior is looking a bit tatty - the carpet, diagonally striped bands of silver and red has seen better days, it’s stained throughout, the chairs are looking tired, frayed edges and stained - they must be coming up for a refit (or one hopes they are).

The crew uniforms - women are dressed in a round neck collarless silver-grey shirt and black pants (much nicer than the Qantas sacks), their hair in french buns no less - the men however are clad in a body forming black Lycra sports shirt with deep grey trousers. I’d have to say the men have the far more stylish outfit - I especially liked their matt finished silver Eurostar branded buckle (not that i was looking there for any other reason).

It became obvious very quickly that the double glazing was not a photographers friend. There aren’t just reflections from the internal lights and people sitting in the carriages, it’s a double reflection - it put an end to any serious photos.


This photo clearly demonstrates the problem.








About 10 minutes out from Waterloo Station our attendant starts handing out the breakfast menu - the purpose of which seemed mute, since no orders were taken before service began.


There are two options - the express breakfast (apart from the different items) is served and cleared more quickly than the traditional.

Express Breakfast:
Winter fruit compote with crème fraîche
Greek yoghurt with honey
Muesli bar with strawberry pieces
Fresh fruit
Bread and Pastries

Traditional Breakfast:
Chicken sausage, herb omelette, cracked black pepper tomato, mushrooms with a grain mustard coating and sautéed potatoes
Greek yoghurt with honey
Bread and pastries

Beverages
Fresh Orange Juice
Tea, coffee and hot chocolate

that isn't a metal serviette ring, it's paper that's made to look like metal (more like a photocopy)

The chicken sausage was tasty like dim sims are tasty in the “I-don’t-want-to-know-what’s-in-them” way. The skin looked synthetic and had peeled away from the “meat” - the sausage was flecked with tiny chunks of what i hope was chicken. It was chickeny in colour so it just might be chicken. The omelette was firm but not rubbery. The mushrooms were abysmal - memo to Eurostar - ask Qantas how to do them. The tomato didn’t have any real pepper taste and the potatoes, though they looked crisp had gone soft.

The Tims Dairy yoghurt is surprising good, it has the texture of soft whip ice-cream, it's light and creamy and with a subtle honey flavour. Equally enjoyable was the pulpy Tropicana Orange Juice.

The bread and pastries were served on the tray with Lescure butter and, in my case, Bonne Femme Apricot conserve. Both items were cold, the bread a trifle on the dry side but the croissant, sacré bleu! It wasn’t buttery, it wasn’t crispy, it wasn’t flaky, it was stale. It had the texture of fine cardboard (not that i’ve ever eaten it). Perhaps they don’t let the decent croissants out of the country.

Near the end of breakfast a trolley was wheeled through, offering “champagne”, mini bottles of white and red wines and spirits.


For the sake of EAAALO I opted for the Pannier Champagne (don’t ask me either, i’ve never heard of it) - a sip tells me it’s closer kin is Minchinbury. It does come in its Eurostar etched glass - that must make it taste better.







Breakfast trays are removed about 30 minutes later, so I’m not how much quicker the express option could have been.

At 11.15 a bell sounded and we were told that the train was now travelling at it’s maximum speed - 300km/h.

You can sort of make out how quick that is.

The train at this speed is definitely smooth, and walking down the passage doesn’t come with that usual problem of landing head first in some strange man’s lap (not that it’s ever happened to me).

15 minutes out from Paris and it was still wide open farmland, interspersed with closeted villages, the omnipresent church steeples pinpointing the towns. It’s rural France - not what i expected to see so close to Paris.

Just like the train, this travelogue ends suddenly- in the case of Eurostar, it draws into Gare du Nord with little fanfare and leaves me with the feeling of "is that it?"

London - Day 3

Over breakfast, a chat ensued that went something like this

Me: Southwark Cathedral was lovely
Hostess: Southwark what?
Me: you know, it's Shakespeare's church
Hostess *blank stare*
Me: it's right there, right beside the market, right next to the Golden Hinde
Hostess *blank stare*
Me: the Golden Hinde, you know the replica of Drake’s vessel
Hostess *blank stare*
Me: the ruins of the old palace where pretty amazing too
Hostess *blank stare*
Me: this morning i'm going to the National gallery to see "The Hay Wain"
Hostess: ohhh, is that in the gallery?

The other thing on my must-do list was a visit to the National Gallery to see Constable’s "The Hay Wain." It's been something that I've wanted to see for as long as I can remember. The chance to see it was something I couldn't miss.

With a spring in my step it was back off into hell, or the underground, still as hot and steamy as yesterday. As I'm on the correct line there's no changing of trains to get to Piccadilly Circus.



Famed Piccadilly Circus was fairly underwhelming - I had expected it to be more like Times Square. I'm contemplating making a t-shirt, "I went to Piccadilly Circus and all I got was this crappy photo." I didn't linger and made my way quickly to the gallery.



The National Gallery is another of these places that say they have free entry but require a voluntary/compulsory donation before they let you in. You also aren't allowed to take photos or videos.

Armed with the gallery plan I managed to navigate my way to Room 34 and finally, there it is. Right in front of me. I'm suprised by it's size - it's much larger than I expected. I can't help but smile. Having come so early, there aren't many people about so I can really just take my time and look at it at great detail.

Up close you can see all the things the prints miss. In the reeds to the right is a boy with a large pole, fishing perhaps, workers dot the fields as a woman kneels at the house's edge, her hand reaching into the waters.

The man facing us is actually talking to his dog, which is intently focused upon his masters words. You also get a sense of urgency in their actions, a storm is approaching.


In the same room there can also be found Turner's "The Fighting Temeraire" which apparently, had just been voted "The Greatest Painting in Britain" (The Hay Wain came second) in a poll conducted by the National Gallery in association with BBC Radio 4. Needless to say, the result has sparked much debate.

The rest of the results are as follows
3. A Bar at the Folies-Bergère - Edouard Manet
4. The Arnolfini Portrait - Jan Van Eyck
5. Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy - David Hockney
6. Sunflowers - Vincent Van Gogh
7. Rev. Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch - Sir Henry Raeburn
8. The Last of England - Ford Madox Brown
9. The Baptism of Christ - Piero della Francesca
10. Rake's Progress III: The Orgy - William Hogarth

Having satisfied the cultural element of my journey and with a questionable looking sky I opted to see a little more of london by bus - The Original Tour open-top sightseeing bus.

Unfortunately the area around Trafalgar Square (where you can catch the bus) seemed to be in the midst of traffic gridlock. It turned out work was being carried out on the Fourth Plinth, or should I say, the controversial Fourth Plinth, on Trafalgar Square.


I managed to get this pic of the work using the camera phone.

The plinth is to be unveiled on September 15th - shucks I'm going to miss it...by that much.

It was interesting to see london from another aspect - having travelled under, I now got to travel over the Tower Bridge and see a little more of the Tower of London.



A travel hint, if you wish to go to The London Dungeon, pre-order your tickets, the queues are quite long, going past on the Bus there were at least 200-300 people waiting in line.


I just like the name on this building - Grand Trunk Railway - it always gets a chuckle out of me. Yes, I’m simple that way.

Midway through the bus trip we had a change of commentator. The first amused me with her questionable jokes such as:
The zoo has bred a camel with a gorilla - it’s called a camilla.
I’m sure at the time we were approaching the Tower of London, a few hundred years ago, jokes such as those might have well seen her spend some time in there and possible see her part company with her head.

The second guide constantly made jokes about the opposition tour company, The Big Bus Company, calling it the Big Bore Company and pointing out it’s head office as a place to dump our rubbish. Meow.

It’s a fairly enjoyable way to travel over a lot of London, with the ability to hop off at the sights you wish to spend some more time at. Unfortunately due to my time constraints I had to satisfy with a sound overview.

The bus also afforded me the opportunity to hop off at Waterloo Station and find out about getting my Europass validated (and check out the station). I have a three month pass that needs to be validated at a train station before I can use it and as I’m heading off to Paris tomorrow I needed to get this done.

Heading for Eurostar offices I was told that all I have to do is show the pass at Counter 3 tomorrow and they will validate it. Simple. That’s a relief.

With that out of the way I headed back to the B&B - time to organise myself and pack up my belongings.

If you’d like to see a few more photos from today you can continue looking here:
London Set

London - Day 2

One of my must-do's was a visit to Borough Market - yes, it's the one Jamie Oliver gushes about but I'm not going there because he did...honest!

Amazingly the hostess at the B&B has never been but has heard good things about it. Maybe it's just me but I find this odd. I'm sure just about everyone's been to Victoria Market back home - it's almost un-Victorian not to have gone. Then again the English are a bit odd when it comes to traveling - they work on a different scale and where we wouldn't think twice about it, they would insist on traveling with a picnic lunch and overnighting in some nice little B&B. After all 5 miles is an awful long way.

I'm out the door quite early and off to Knightsbridge station - the closest entry of which happens to be shut due to some kind of renovation work. No problems - it gives me the opportunity to wander down Brompton Road. I'm quite glad I made the executive decision yesterday - I wouldn't have liked following this route lugging the bags behind me.

To get to Borough Market involves a train change at Green Park - then taking the Jubilee line to London Bridge Station. It's not complicated but the Underground was uncomfortably hot. I'm having Singapore flashbacks - or maybe that's jetlag. It's with much relief that I re-emerge onto the London streets. A short walk and I'm there - Borough Market. I must be awestruck as I fail to take a picture of the markets entry.

I've arrived before the scheduled opening time of 9am but that doesn't seem to be a problem. It's quite a large complex, a mix of indoor and outdoor - some sections wedged between train lines, roads and Southwark Cathedral.

Some of the stalls are still in the process of setting up. I feel a little self-conscious as I take the pics - I'd love to be buying so many of the things I'm seeing but without cooking facilities, that's just impossible. I'll just have to satisfy my visual appetite.

And what a sumptuous feast it was from the freshest rounds of cheese


to the brightest and plumpest berries and vibrant fruits


vegetables that sing with colour


then there were the fish and meats


and things that are a little more unusual



Brindisa is a store located in the market and they specialise in Spanish Foods - what I found amazing were the many types of Jamon - there are Iberico and Serrano but within these two groups the variations are on area of production and curing lengths, combinations of which produce widely different tastes and textures. It wasn't go to be as simple as ordering 100 grams of ham!

The Jamon is all hand-sliced and they can have up to 3 people slicing the Jamon - demand must heat up as the day progresses. I return to the store later in the morning and there is a half hour waiting list on the Jamon! Oh well, next time.


Neal's Yard Dairy - isn't in the market itself but on a side street and it's one of those places recommended by the food Mafia. It was pretty much impossible to enter the shop since the queue stretched past the front door and it seemed to full of people that will that night over a Bordeaux or five, will talk about how this cheese is from Neal's Yard Dairy yet fail to actually know what they are eating.


This is the modestly named Monmeath Coffee Company and it seems to share it's clientele with Neals Yard Dairy. They proudly boast to have been roasting coffee since 1978! Wow, am I impressed - though not impressed enough to fork over £3 for a coffee.

Now I hear you saying but where will we go for our coffee to sustain us as we feast our way through Borough Market? Well EAALO has the answer for you - wander over to Clink Street and there you will find an unassuming cafe - devoid of crowds, where you can actually sit at a table and have an excellent coffee for, wait for it, £1.20! The name of this gem is Amano. If you don't trust my word, just click on the link.


Having gone snap happy at the market I've had to take a break to empty out the SD card onto the Ipod. It's a good excuse to enjoy a very well made capuccino. My only regret is that I only had one.

Some general advice about the market - go early so you can drool at your leisure. If I've got your tastebuds going, more photos from my sojourn can be found here:
Borough Market Set

Besides the market I did stumble upon a few other interesting sites nearby - the first of which was looming right above me - Southwark Cathedral.


Southwark Cathedral is surrounded by a most attractive and peaceful garden - an excellent place to relax if the market is overwhelming your senses. You can go inside - admission by "voluntary" donation, £4 or more please! If you'd like to take photos that would require a permit priced at £2 (£5 for video).

Unfortunately I was lacking change and didn't really feel like asking for change from a £20 note so I had to be content with external shots.


I was quite taken by the gargoyles and the water spouts - quite pretty gothic features - which can be seen in this pic.


Now, I didn't know this at the time (because I don't watch those types of movies), but this was used as Bridget's apartment in Bridget Jones Vacuous Mutterings or something like that. I took the pic because I liked the building.


The Golden Hinde - well, one of the replicas. It's at St Mary Overy Dock just off Clink Street.

Unfortunately the weather didn't hold out for me and with a drizzly rain and overcast skies I decided on a change of plan - and trip down the Thames might be the way to go. At least I would be able stay comparatively dry and still see touristy things that I'd promised the immigration official I'd come for.

Well, it was the weather and the fact that as I had exited one of the underground stations a security alert was issued ordering an evacuation. Hmm, the Thames suddenly looked a lot more interesting.


My vessel of choice was the Catamaran Cruises which offered a hop on and off ticket for £9. Quite reasonable considering it took you from Westminster Pier all the way to Greenwich Pier. As the name suggests, it gives you unlimited rides on their vessels and enables you to explore the 6 different piers at which it stops.

Alas, as mentioned, the weather was such that it limited any explorations on land - with a series of heavy showers I consigned myself with the knowledge that I would, most definitely, be returning to London for a much longer visit.

I did, between showers manage to get a few snaps of some classic London icons like

no, it's not Big Ben - the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Bridge


no, not London Bridge, this is Tower Bridge


The Maritime Museum in Greenwich


The Cutty Sark in Greenwich


I was also quite fortunate to see the Tower Bridge open to let through the old sailing barge, "Thistle".

If you are interested you can see more pics from today here:
London Set

To satisfy some food purchasing urges that had been left unchecked since Borough Market this morning, I returned to my stomping ground, Harrods and this time picked a few items from their Delicatessen section. Unfortunately, ordering 50 grams of prosciutto didn't illicit any shocked reactions - so entertainment wise it didn't reach yesterday's level.


My choices were attractively package but the taste is what really mattered.


Mortadella with Pistachio - my first taste of real Italian made Mortadella - wow, what a difference! A dominant pork nose that's sweet, much more complex in scent and flavour then the mass produced imitations; the flavours in harmony with the pistachio


San Daniele Prosciutto - a more mature taste, sweet and extremely soft, almost paste like - intense lingering flavour in a see through slice


Sage flecked Salami - the scent of sage lingers as you eat, adding another dimension to the humble salami

London - Day 1

There’s many things said about Heathrow - very few of them printable. After having heard the stories I had prepared myself for the worst. What I encountered was a pleasant surprise. After another fairly long walk from the gate (why don’t I take a trolley?) rounding the final corner, immigration looms before me. What a surprise, perhaps a queue of 10 people. Could this be a sign of better things to come?

As I reach the officer he checks out my passport and then asks me if I came from Sydney. Well, no, the plane did start at Sydney but I boarded in Singapore. What I’m doing in London and I, so succinctly tell him “just the usual touristy things.” I waited for the ground to swallow me as soon as I uttered those words. What the hell was I thinking? Was I even thinking? He nods and jots something down, probably that I’m an idiot. He then asks when I would be leaving - can’t wait to get me out of the country can ya, I thought to myself. Monday, I answer. I think that satisfies him and I might just avoid the rubber glove treatment.

Passing through customs one officer is going through a guys bag as two stand chatting, they give me a cursory look before returning to more important things, the football results.

To my surprise I’m out - that’s got to be one of the quickest times for going through I’ve experienced. Now all I have to do is get my bag and get out of here.

Simple, yes.

I think I’m back in Singapore as the luggage area of Heathrow is hot and sticky - as I wait for the bag to come out, round and round the belt goes and nothing. I start to wonder if my bag made it through. Maybe it’s on another flight. Maybe it’s in Singapore.

Time ticks by and the bags keep coming....I watch the bag marked fragile appear, it’s handle belt side down. I wonder how you gently place it on the belt that way. Finally I see that yellow lock, yes, that’s mine. I struggle through the crowd that’s now formed in front of me and manage to pull the bag off without breaking an arm. No, don’t trouble yourselves and move out of the way a little bit. Just let me thread this bag through the 2-inch gap you’ve left.

Feeling hot and bothered I head off to the station and make an executive decision - I’ll catch the Heathrow express and then a taxi from waterloo. Damn the expense!

It’s a very quick trip - as we zoom past Haddon station I see the crowd I would have had to get through to catch the direct train to Knightsbridge. Yes, I think I made a very wise choice here. Especially when I read that this train stops closest to the exits. Excellent - I won’t have to fuss too much with these bags.

As we near Waterloo, I attach the bags together to make it easier to pull. As the doors open I encounter a problem - the platform is over a foot away and there’s no-way the bags and I are going over the gap together. With no staff in sight, I have to unhook the bags and take them one at a time onto the platform. As I start to reattach them, the train attendant appears at the door and smiles “Have a great trip.” I flash my best fake smile and say thanks…yeah thanks for nothing.

Casting a cursory glance down the platform, I soon realise I’m at the very end of the station - there’s in fact another train in front of it. It’s a very hot walk into the station proper as the trains are still going - it’s an intense heat billowing along the platform.

There’s a line for taxis but it’s moving quickly. When it’s my turn the taxi monitor points me to the taxi and moves off to take care of some Louis Vuitton luggage, leaving me to lug the bags inside. The taxi driver is making some hand gestures to the monitor.

A bit hot and tired I settle back, the taxi driver telling me that the monitor should have put the bags inside. It’s a case of luggage discrimination. There’s a slight confusion over my destinations name. I say has-ker but it seems the people of Knightsbridge say haaaaaasker, you know, the Brighton pronunciation for the Melbournians out there.

The driver is quite nice and points out some attractions as he makes his way to the b&b - we pass the Albert memorial, an amazingly huge gold sculpture of the old Albert. When we arrive at the b&b, he even waits until he sees I’m safely inside. If only all taxi drivers could be like that.

The b&b is in one of those typical row homes with the small front courtyards and windowed basement rooms. It’s oh so British. My room is on the 1st floor, the living areas on the ground floor and the kitchen in the basement.



I take the opportunity to have a soak and change out these 2-day clothes - it’s renewing to change into something fresh again. I had planned to go to Harrods but the rain decides to tumble down - delaying the trip for a few hours.



It’s after 5 before I wander down to Harrods, snapping merrily along the way. My first impression comes quickly - the cars - they are all luxury makes and models. There’s no Hyundai’s or Daihatsu’s here. I don’t think I’ve seen so many Porsche Cayenne’s in my life. Here they are as common as commodores. It’s the sound of the Ferrari f350 as it pulls up at the corner bottle-o that makes me start to notice the cars.

But I don’t take a picture of it - there’s something much more interesting


walton street

The road is studded with terrace housing; there’s some major work being done on one block. But I’m not here for the architectural detail, I’m here to see Harrods.



Walking through Chadstone Shopping Centre is good practice for facing Harrods. But even then, it’s still overwhelming large. You know you’re in a difference place when you stroll through the saddle department. Let’s see what’s on my shopping list, milk, butter, bread, saddles. That’s just so normal. It’s actually a little surreal. Some parts are downright pathetic - the queue to sign the Dodi and Diana condolence book is one such part. There are people even taking pictures of themselves with the condolence books. Earth to mothership, time to take your people home.

The food is the great drawcard for me. You read about it, you see some pictures but once again, being there is totally different. There are signs saying no photos allowed so being the sign obeying person that I am, I comply. Yeah, I’m just a suck, I know. Not all people are as sucky as me - one couple is taking a picture next to a giant pig made of marshmallows. Yeah, okay. One woman shoves a camera at me, wanting me to take her picture as she stands next to a giant cheese. I shake my head and explain there no photos thing. I’m not sure if she understands me but I’m not going to get kicked out of Harrods over some giant cheese. I continue walking, leaving the woman looking perplexed. I’m sure she’ll get a picture of that cheese in the end.

The food hall isn’t really a hall, it’s a series of opulent halls. Do you look at the food or the building? There’s a hall devoted to confection - it’s noticeably cooler than its offshoots. Switzerland’s yearly production is probably on show at the moment. I manage to leave without making a single purchase.

I lovingly gaze at the plethora of cheeses, sign over the prosciuttos - not just one, try a dozen different types. And who knew there were so many types of jamon. You name it, it’s there. Even Crispy Creme Donuts. It’s there and so is the ridiculous queue. People triumphantly emerging with their boxes of 10 donuts.

I don’t know what this does to the standing of EAAALO but I fail to try a donut.

I do however make some purchases of the savoury kind.

At one of the fish counters I spy some treats I’d like to taste. One is a northern grilled sardine (at 80pence it’s a steal), the other wild Scottish salmon. As my number is called, a smiling attendant approaches and asks what I would like. One sardine, I reply. He’s good humour fails as he replies, "One sardine? "Perhaps he thinks he’s misheard and I meant 1 kilo. “One sardine” I smile back. The look of disgust on his face can’t be hidden as he mumbles to himself, one sardine. It’s placed in a special sealed plastic container. He returns and asks sarcastically “Is there anything else?” “Oh yes” I cheerily reply “50 grams of smoked, wild salmon.” The white of his eyes now resemble cricket balls and is that vein in his forehead throbbing? He mumbles to his underling and she ends up filling my order. The total coming to a massive ₤2.84. Entertainment wise, worth every pence.

the infamous sardine

salmon packaging
salmon on the plate

Along the way I also purchase a small baguette and a bottle of Royal Ginger Ale. Yes it’s an odd mix, but I’m feeling a bit odd after the 36-hour trip.

When I leave Harrods I notice all the traffic around the store - but it’s not normal traffic. The cars are all limos and they are waiting. Waiting for women with various degrees of face on display to dash out. It’s probably the last minute rush for a few spuds to go with dinner.

With the slick streets the traffic is moving slowly - all the sides streets are bumper to bumper. A short stroll later I’m back at home base and ready to sample my goodies.

Northern Grilled Sardine - this was a surprise - incredibly delicious. The grilling had removed any of that harsh flavour that sardines sometimes have, what remained was a whitish flesh and the smokiness off the grill. The taste was almost creamy.

Lightly smoked Wild Scottish Salmon
the light smoking worked in harmony with the sweet flesh of the fish, it still had the obvious salmon taste, more akin to sashimi than atypical smoked salmon.


Royal Ginger Ale
very subtle ginger flavour with a light fizz, very refreshing with a good tang



This is Winston, who spent the night curled up at the foot of my bed. Isn’t he a cutey?


And this is Clementine, who didn’t spend the night curled up at the foot of m y bed - but she’s still a cutey.