Mahinda’s Little World

Wow. Just…wow.

I didn’t expect it, but this ended up as one of my favourite holidays!

In terms of my holidays, this was notable for lots of things:

• Most expensive (ouch)
• Biggest group (27)
• Coolest locations (Kensington Oval, amongst others)
• Most sun, sea and sand (lots)
• Most rum consumed (shudder)
• Most sport played (several matches)

This is VERY belated blogging as it is, but never mind.

There are many many photos on Facebook — mine are here and here.

Basically, we played hockey, we drank, we ate, we partied, and some of us even explored a bit.

First, I’ll lift the two letters home I stuck on Facebook — those’ll give you a flavour of the first few days….

Letter from Barbados

I’m in Barbados. It’s ace!

For those that don’t know (and I’ve been insufferably smug about it all lately, so there won’t be many of you), I’m over here for a fortnight, for the Banks International Hockey Tournament. That’s as in Banks beer, the local brew, rather than any financial institutions. I’m there with Sale Hockey Club — there’s 27 of us, comprising one mixed team and some travelling support.

The opening ceremony was on Sunday, at the Kensington Oval — a VERY impressive ground…well, half of it, anyway. It’ll be even better once they build a couple more stands on the currently empty side of the ground.

We got to parade around the outfield, with music and stuff — I think there’s 24 clubs involved, local and international, with most teams from the UK and Barbados. There’s also some Trinidadians, Germans, Dutch and Americans.

Our first match was yesterday, against some Scottish uni OTC types. We expected to get a hammering, with the opposition’s army-style fitness destroying us in the tropical heat. Instead, we won 2-0, and it could have been 6-0. Bring on the locals later this afternoon!

Hurricane Dean just missed us — a few of our touring party were here last week, and they got to experience the winds and rain at its edge. Scary. It’s winding its way across the Caribbean at the moment, and was due to hit Category 5 the last I heard. For those that don’t know, that’s up there with Katrina. It just missed Jamaica yesterday, I think, and was due to hit the Caymans and then Cancun.

Hope you’re all having fun back in Blighty. I think I’ll head over to the beach for a quick swim before catching the minibus to this afternoon’s game. Come on in, the water’s lovely

More from the Caribbean

First game, on Monday — the aforementioned 2-0 win against the Scots, which we followed up with a 0-2 (I think) defeat at the hands of a local side. By way of celebration, we all got well and truly blasted on Tuesday night — a tenner for all-you-can-drink action, including Mount Gay XO rum. Mmmmm.

So, Wednesday morning came, and we had two games. The first was at the Banks Brewery ground, so featured a lovely smell of malt. Which really made the hangover pleasant. We got beaten, 0-3 or something, by a local team who were helped by some absolutely shocking umpiring — the other foreign teams report similar stories. They were the better team, though.

Later on in Wednesday, it was another forces team, from a British regiment currently serving in Germany. We beat them quite easily, 2-0 again I think.

Thursday was the big day — a 10 o’clock match at the Kensington Oval itself, against Maples, a club based near where we were staying. We lost. 1-7. Our goal game early, while their ‘keeper was stuck in traffic. Bugger.

Well, it’s certainly not the first time a touring English side have been utterly destroyed at the Kensington Oval.

More Hockey-related Stuff

So that’s all I got time to write on Facebook about it. And almost the end of the hockey bit. All that’s left is the finals day.

Unlike many of the other teams, we watched all the finals, getting royally drunk in the process and hurling abuse at the refs. The best match by far was the men’s final — Grasshoppers vs. Dominion, I think.

Grasshoppers were a Dutch touring side full of ex-internationals — they were absolute quality, and a good bunch of lads. They’d brought lots of equipment to give to local kids, and ran hockey workshops as well. The local lads, Dominion (I think) were very big, very fast, and very fit. It was a really tight match, destined for extra time…until Dominion got about three short corners in a row right at the end…they scored from the last to take the match

And that was that. In summary, the first week of the tour was bloody hard work. I think I enhanced my alcoholic reputation, but doing so almost killed me!

We partied more than just about any other team (but were robbed of the "best party team" prize thanks to not really doing the official socials), and had a great time.

That’s enough for now — I’ll tell you more about the rest of the holiday when I sit down to write Part II…

Not quite a holiday, but not exactly work either.

This August, I finally made it down to the Great British Beer Festival (GBBF), at Earl’s Court.

Now, while I’m a regular at the Winter Ales Fest, pretty much the "other" national beer festival, I’ve not really been to the true beasts — Peterborough, Cambridge and of course this, the alcoholic daddy of them all.

So, I’d been planning for a few years to take the week off work and work it properly — helping with set up, bar work and take down. Unfortunately, work commitments got in the way — I couldn’t take the week off with a clear conscience — so all I did was late-Thursday to mid-Sunday.

Thursday

Got there pretty late, just in time to find Laura at the staffing desk, sign in, and manage a stint at the glasses counter. This, of course, qualified me for entry to the staff session at the end of the day.

Laura. It was her email, beckoning CAMRA youngsters in the Manchester/Cheshire area to a trip to the Hydes Brewery, that kick-started my journey into active CAMRAdom. In the six years since, she’s had a few children and her husband, Mark (aka Goliath) is the head honcho of the whole damn GBBF.

The staff session. In Earl’s Court’s upper hall, there is a whole whopping great area for staff and staff alone. This includes the Volunteer Arms, a fully-stocked and very well kept bar, open for most of the festival. And free. With over a thousand thirsty staff over the week, it’s actually bigger than some beer festivals!

So, I drank a few pints before catching the coach back to where I was staying — free coaches are laid on just after midnight to take you back to your accommodation. I was staying at one of LSE’s halls (Carr-Saunders, I think), close to Tottenham Court Road, which wasn’t bad at all.

Friday

I worked at the Mid-West bar on Friday, which caused a bit of confusion as most people weren’t quite sure what it meant. Fortunately, it wasn’t anything to do with the cornfields of Kansas or Ohio, but more the area encompassing Staffs, Cheshire, and possibly Derbyshire and Herefordshire too. Weird, but it did include a few breweries I knew, e.g. Beartown.

I should point out here that the basic layout is of two large bar squares, comprising eight bars each, with food, brewery stands, etc. laid out in between the two of them. Each bar correseponds to a particular geographical area, e.g. Wales, Scotland, Northwest.

On Friday evening, I met up with Jordan, Barney, Kathy and John for an evening of Monty Python goodness — we went to see Spamalot…which was absolutely bloody brilliant! Full of in-jokes, bad puns and, of course, great big sharp pointy teeth. It’s a beast, I tells you!

I wouldn’t get back to the fest in time for closing, so went for a pint with the others before meandering back to my bedroom and crashing out. I really was knackered by this point.

Saturday

On Saturday, I reported for duty at the Wales bar. Not too many beers I knew…but there were plenty of tasty dark ales to keep me happy.

Late afternoon arrived, and I headed off to help with the Young Persons’ Bar Crawl, led by Gus, our intrepid Young Members’ Group leader. This was brilliant — lots of people, lots of banter, and lots of free beer. It was a real buzz, a whistle-stop tour carried out at absolute breakneck pace. I think I played my part in getting a fair few people signed up…although there were the Aussies who kept asking for "something cold and fizzy". Not round here, mate.

Back to the Wales bar then, and on to the big staff party at the end of it all. Much food, much beer, much merriment. And a life-sized fibreglass cow. Thank you, Badger brewery, from whom Daisy was confiscated. Long story.

The coaches left at something like 2am, and we were all knackered.

We’d sold huge amounts of beer (270,000 pints was the final total), had something like 64,000 people through the door…who consumed just over a metric tonne of scratchings. 1020 kg of very fine pork scratchings. Wow!

I made it to breakfast on Sunday morning…just…and thence back to Earl’s Court to help with the take-down. I ended up helping out in the loading bay — tracking down barrels and stuff so that the various breweries’ vans could load up and leave. Definitely good exercise for the arms — lugging part-full casks around, World’s Strongest Man style!

Didn’t have my watch on, so ended up late meeting Amandhi. We ended up heading to Euston and chatting for a while before I caught the train back home.

In Summary…

All in all, it was a hugely enjoyable (long) weekend. However, I think I prefer working at the Winter Ales Fest (NWAF). GBBF is the flagship event, a different scale to the others, and is run very professionally. It has to be. But I just don’t find it as much FUN.

NWAF is, not exactly amateurish, but more laid-back. As a result, it’s got more of an informal vibe. The customers help with this — I found the general banter at GBBF a lot worse than at NWAF (or any other Northern beer festivals), especially on Friday evening. Maybe it’s because they’re Londoners, or are just there to drink after hard days at their respective offices (but that’s the same as NWAF). I dunno. I just enjoyed it less.

Would I go back there? Possibly — I’d still like to give it the whole week and see what it’s like to do it properly. But, given the choice, I’d prefer to take my days off for NWAF.

The annual Hattrick European Boozer, this time to Blartislava…way back at the end of May.

I managed to watch Hostel, the rather gruesome horror flick set in Bratislava*, the very night before leaving for a long weekend…in a hostel…in Bratislava. Oops. I’d been before though (with Josephine, in a former millennium and a former life) and it was pleasant enough.

* But actually filmed elsewhere, hence my confusion when not recognising any of the scenes on screen.

The hostel was good, the beer was both cheap and good, and it’s a lovely little city. Possibly not exciting enough for the full five days, but day trips to Vienna (ergh) and Devin Castle (stunning) helped.

We only had one dodgy bit, which was a run-in with some neo-Nazi-ish football hooligans in Sub Club (which otherwise promised to be a great little nightclub). Generally, us Brits really aren’t liked on the continent. So very different from my travels of ‘96 and ‘99

On the subject of differences, the place had changed so much in seven years. I hardly recognised it. We did find a great little restaurant where Josephine and I ate, many years ago, and I had a gorgeous steak stuffed with mushrooms, ham and cheese…but it was pretty much derelict.

Other memories include:

• "Cheap bar"
  The the first local-priced drinking establishment we found — only a few yards away from the expensive tourist traps.
• Club ’80s
  Oh yeah. Recommended by a waiter at Cheap Bar (who we thought was saying "Club Eddie’s"), this became something of a default, being a locals-ish cellar bar with dancefloor and a DJ amenable to suggestion. He was absolutely delighted when Pete and I requested Guns ‘n’ Roses, as were half the clientèle. Decent cheap cocktails, too.
• Big local bloke
  I can’t remember this guy’s name, but he was a relatively wealthy local who’d travelled a bit and got chatting with us in Club ’80s. Good lad, and gave us a few tips on what to see, which included…
• Slavin cemetery
  "Really close to your hostel" he said. Bloody miles away, more likely. This was the Russian war cemetery, on top of a hill a couple of miles out of the city centre — a tranquil and impressive monument, but nothing more. I was the only one who went, on an absolutely sweltering day.
• Old local graveyard
  On the way back from Slavin, I found this place. A hugely atmospheric rambling graveyard, full of stooped trees and mossy stonework. I proceeded to get lost in it, which was actually a pleasant experience.
• Pool hall
  Next door to our hostel was a little pool hall, situated in the cellars of the big apartment-type building. A couple of tables and a bar, all nicely chilled and therefore a prime place to hang out. It did have the slowest service in the world ever, though, with a waitress who seemed utterly unaware of how to pull a pint. We’re convinced the place was laundering money.
• Hostel
  Oh yes, the hostel. We were at the Downtown Backpacker’s Hostel, which was nice enough. Not the best I’ve stayed at, but nowhere near the worst. The staff were pretty friendly, especially Latzo…
• Latzo
  A strange but friendly (and very dry) chap, who seemed to take a shine to Dan, the smallest and fluffiest of our group. We made much mileage of this fact. I got on with the bloke, and chatted with him a fair bit over the weekend. So much so that he gave me a present of a bottle of local wine…which I drank with the lads that very night. I feel quite guilty about that.
• Poker
  On our last night there, a few of us ended up playing poker back at the hostel — and I won! A bit of beer money, but the drunken feeling of victory was far more significant! That’s when we drank Latzo’s wine. It was quite nice.
• Dark beer
  Oh yes. Why on Earth don’t we get more dark lager in Blighty? Just about every bar we visited had a pump for the stuff — I think I got one or two of the group on to the stuff, too.
• 1. Slovak Pub – website
  Strange name, great pub…but very very warm and stuffy and humid. HUGE place, and a bit of a student hangout — dirt cheap, tasty grub, all in interesting surroundings that could be a bit tourist trap-ish…but just aren’t. We’d have spent a lot more time there if it wasn’t so warm that weekend.
• Prasna Basta – website
  One of Latzo’s recommendations, and a very good one too. So good we ate there twice. The first time degenerated into an absinthe-fuelled monster of an evening
• Café Verne
  The last restaurant I’ll mention here, this was yet another recommendation from Latzo. A cheap hangout on one of the main squares, it was right in between expensive classy touristy joints…and served excellent food (I think there were three types of goulash, all great). I think we ate there three times. Also notable for an extremely perky waitress.
• The castle
  Don’t go there. It’s basically an underfunded art gallery of a museum. I’d forgotten all about it, and I therefore take the blame for letting our group spend time there. I should have known better.
• The Wireless Well
  For some reason, there was an old well in the middle of Old Town…that had wireless internet access. Handy for those with phones that could use it. Odd but good.
• Canadian girl and Louis (or however it’s spelt)
  I can’t remember her name, but we met a Canadian girl in the hostel, and Louis, a seasoned traveller who was hanging around with her. She was pretty lovely, and the object of some affections for a while. Louis, pronounced ‘Loo-ee’, was a grizzled old chap, with Hispanic roots, with a whole stack of tales — we kept bumping into him. I spent quite a while swapping travel stories with him, and realised that, well, my travels have actually been quite interesting.
• Samantha
  I left on my own, a few hours after the penultimate batch left and, when catching the bus to the station (and thence to the airport, via another bus), saw a couple of girls, one sporting a heavy pack, also leaving the hostel. Only one caught the bus, and we got chatting. She was from Delaware, just across the river from Philadelphia, where I’d been the previous week. We hung out together while waiting a few hours for our flights. More swapping of tales ensued. We should probably have swapped email addresses. Oh well.
• The trip home
  This is a story in itself. At one point I was expecting not to get home until 5.30am, with work the next day. As it worked out, I managed something like 3am. Phew.

…and nobody got sliced up. Which is definitely a good thing.

That’ll do for now. I have a couple of okay photos. Might put them on Facebook one of these days.

So, there are a couple of things I missed out.

Firstly, the photos are now online.

As is a little video. Nothing exciting:

Lastly, I’ve found a slip of paper that served as the menu at Nodding Head. Here’s what they had:

• BPA
  Bill Payer Ale…hoppy pale ale…separated from many of its counterparts by a solid malt backbone.
• Gordo’s Oatmeal Stout
  Classic oatmeal stout…medium bodied and pleasantly roasty…hints of caramel and toffee in the finish.
• All Night Ale
  British-style dark mild…brown in colour with plenty of flavor (sic) and significant body…blended with espresso from our good friends at Café Loftus (which kind of makes it not "British-style" at all — Ed)
• Monkey Knife Fight
  Asian influenced blonde lager…light bodied infused with the flavors of ginger and lemongrass…everbody loves a monkey (true).
• Prudence Pale Ale
  Everything you would expect from a pale ale…amber in color with a medium body and lots of hop flavor and aroma…all at a mere 3.75% ABV.
• 60 Shilling
  Lighter Scottish-style ale…amber and malty…reminds us all that sometimes there just aren’t enough O’s in smooth.

I had the stout and the All Night Ale, which were both pretty good. I’m very glad to know that I’m not the only person to use the word ‘roasty’.

Oh, and there’s some small print at the bottom of the menu:

Nodding Head has made a commitment to serving the highest quality ales and lagers. If you are not pleased with one of our beers, it is not because it is poorly brewed, but more accurately, not to your taste. We do not offer refunds for our beer. If you are uncertain about a beer, please feel free to ask your server for a sample.

Not very friendly, is it? I suspect it’s more to deal with the Budweiser drinkers who head in there, ask for a pint of mild, and complain that it tastes horrible. Or rather, that it just tastes.

Okay, so we’ve established that I walked and ate a lot during my week away. I drank a little but, being on my own, I was hardly going out on the rampage.

Actually, I should mention Eulogy, a Belgian bar I found in the tourist district (old town) — as well as a decent selection on draught, they have a seriously comprehensive bottled beer menu, with everything from Old Tom to some very stange Lambics. And it’s owned by a real Belgian! I had a very strong and very tasty trippel, brewed in Canada of all places.

So, on with the story…

(this is fast becoming Mahinda’s Guide to Philadelphia)

Touristy Stuff

During the week, I walked around a lot — more getting a feel for the city (and scoping out restaurants!) than doing museums and the like. I just didn’t fancy it, really.

The main touristy stuff I did was on the Saturday and Sunday…which actually remained fairly dry and sunny, despite the seriously doomy gloomy forecasts. I walked around old town, including the five or six blocks set aside as historic parkland ("Independence Park"). Pretty, in an old colonial way.

The Liberty Bell was, well, everything I expected it to be. Nowhere near as large as people expect, in essence it’s just a small-to-medium-sized bell with a whopping great crack in it. Oh, and lots of history to go along with that. It was surrounded by Scouts, and getting into the building featured security checks that would have made Heathrow proud.

After that, it was off to the Betsy Ross house — she was the seamstress who may (or may not, according to recent research) have created the very first independent American flag. Here’s where it felt slightly weird — this was an ordinary enough 200ish-year-old house in which some woman who sewed (or didn’t) a flag once resided. That’s not exactly History with a big ‘H’, is it? Still, I suppose you’ve got to take what you can get, and Americans do have somewhat stronger feelings towards their flags than us Brits.

On the subject of the flag, it really did evolve some. Here’s a page detailing its history. One of the stranger ones is the "Don’t Tread on Me" flag featuring a rattlesnake — seemingly out of place amidst all the red, blue and white.

Zap!

Straddling all this history like a collossus was Benjamin Franklin. Now, I was aware he was quite a statesman, as well as being one of the true scientific geniuses, but I didn’t realise quite how caught up he was in American history.

Well, he was.

The Franklin Institute seems a bit like our own Science Museum in tone…but I didn’t go in. I did, however, visit Franklin Court, which was more about the man himself — lots of exhibits on his life and times, but the real star was the glass armonica.

Have you ever made a wine glass "sing" by holding its base and rubbing a wet finger on its rim? No? Seriously, you should. It’s an amazing sound. The pitch of the sound you make is controlled by how much liquid is in the glass (and the characteristics of glass itself).

So, Franklin decided to make an instrument out of this principle — rather than describe it here, I’ll point you towards some better pages:

• Wikipedia
• Franklin Institute (including "play it yourself" web wizardry)
• Some muso bloke

I was lucky enough to see (and hear!) a demonstration of the fully-working replica armonica they’ve got in Franklin Court. Haunting. It’s very much like playing the piano apparently, with each glass edge being a key. The young Mozart was so impressed that he composed a piece especially for it.

Unfortunately, the glass armonica is a VERY expensive thing to produce — each glass bowl has to be perfectly tuned, and it’s of course a bit on the fragile side. We’re talking thousands of pounds here.

I exited Franklin Court to find that I’d just missed a heavy shower. Instead, I got a rainbow.

ComedySportz

While I didn’t make it to the theatre, despite there being a Shakespeare festival running, I did at least take in some comedy. Improv, in fact — ComedySportz. Very much like Who’s Line is it Anyway in style, this had something of an Edinburgh Fringe feel to it, right down to the studio theatre. If you’re in Philly and stuck for something to do of an evening, try to take in one of the 10pm shows — it’s fully worth the admission!

Adriennnnnnne!

The number one biggest tourist cliché in Philadelphia is the steps of the Philadephia Musem of Art, aka the Rocky Steps. Benjamin Franklin Boulevard (who else?!) stretches a mile or so from the city centre, running diagonally across the grid network, to terminate in this impressive façade.

On the Sunday, I finally made it over to the end, in absolutely glorious sunshine. I couldn’t help but hum the Rocky theme as I walked up…which was considerably more restrained than the various people jumping up and down at the top, indulging in a spot of shadow-boxing.

It’s a lovely view from the top, and I hear the Art Museum itself if very good. I wasn’t in the mood to spend such a glorious day indoors, however, so I moseyed on to…

Escape!

This one was my favourite — the prison upon which many of the world’s other prisons are based. Eastern State Penitentiary (ESP) was the first actual ‘penitentiary’, where prisoners would be left to, in theory, reflect on their sins in (Quaker-inspired) silence and isolation, with little or no contact with anyone else during their sentences.

That last link was to Wikipedia — the official website is pretty good, too.

Of course, the initial ideas fell into disarray with the onset of overcrowding, corruption and so on, but the ideas were there. The very design of the place, with long linear corridors radiating out from a central room (from where a single guard could see every single corridor), was revolutionary.

I took the audio tour, as well as a guided one on prison breaks — all very Shawshank! In fact, that’s where the place’s atmosphere came from for me — the silent crumbling walls and massive thick stonework were straight out of the general genre of American prison films.

It was topical too — at the time, I was reading a trilogy (borrowed from Rosy) in which the reincarnation (vaguely — it’d take too long to explain) of Al Capone was one of the chief villains…and, in ESP, I got to see Al Capone’s old cell. And very plush it was, too.

Oversea, Undersea, Wombleing Free

I almost forgot this one. Out to the east of the city, on the banks of the Delaware river, is an area called Penn’s Landing, which of course is where William Penn originally set foot on land and founded Philadelphia (Greek-ish for "city of brotherly love" of course).

Well, the area now seems to be a sort of leisure zone, complete with mall and the Independence Seaport Museum. Did I mention that just about everything in the city had "Independence" applied liberally? Well, it did. Everywhere. Given that I’m actually writing this on 2nd July, I’d imagine that that’s even more pronounced right now. Ergh. There’s pride…and there’s tackiness. I suppose I just don’t understand, given that it’s not my pride.

Anyway, Independence Seaport. It was a colleague of Michael’s (who’s in Dallas, but has workmates from all over) who recommended "the submarine thing" to me, and I eventually found out what it was.

Basically, they’ve got a WWII sub, the Becuna, moored up and open to visitors. They’ve also got a great big iron-hull, the USS Olympia, next to it – dating back to 1892, it’s actually the "oldest steel warship afloat in the world". So there.

It was all absolutely fascinating — the contrast between the cramped confines of the sub and the relative opulence (but, in some respects, worse conditions) of the ship. For example, the submarine crews seemed to be a law unto themselves, a sort of special club amongst the navy. And I suppose they’d have to be! The submariners’ food was probably better, for a start.

On the subject of contrast, I had a good look into a WWII German-style (but actually Finnish) U-boat a few years ago — the Vesikko, moored on the island of Suomenlinna, just off Helsinki. It provided quite a contrast — the American vessel was MUCH larger, probably with all the pros and cons inherent in that.

One of the most striking things [on the Becuna] was one of the sets of bunks, where the sailors would pretty much sleep on top of the torpedoes that they’d eventually fire. Probably not a job for the nervous!

Summary

Anyway, after boring you with all that, I’d heartily recommend Philly for a long weekend, if not a week or two — it’s certainly a vibrant enough place, with friendly people and plenty of stuff to do. And eat. Definitely eat

I’ll leave you with a quote from Franklin himself:

"Three can keep a secret
                    …if two of them are dead."

This is yet another much-belated post. Most, if not all of you, will know by now that I headed to Philadelphia for a whole week, back in May.

It was business rather than pleasure — we had a new author, Samantha, starting in the Philadelphia office, and I was sent over to train her up for a week. Well, almost a week — I flew out on Monday, worked Tuesday-Friday, then had the weekend there before catching an overnight flight home on Sunday.

He Trains

From what I’d heard of Samantha, I was expecting someone who kept to herself — friendly enough, but reserved. Not the kind of person to go wild with a lunchtime pint or three.

Fortunately, that turned out not to be the case — we definitely clicked, and got on really well. I think it would have been a much less fun week if I didn’t get on with the person with whom I was spending most of it.

The training (in the use of our template, processes, etc.) did actually take up the full working week (well, four days of it, anyway)…and, amazingly, it went almost exactly to the plan I drew up. There’s a first time for everything.

He Researches

Philadelphia. What did I know about it before going? Not much. While I’d seen the various Rocky films, I’d missed out on Tom Hanks in Philadelphia and never seen Philadelphia Story either. Somehow, I doubt that Mannequin and Dawn of the Dead would paint a true picture of the place. Hopefully.

So I did some research, and found that, as well as being one of the most historical bits of the USA, it was famous for these two things:

• Cheesesteaks
• Microbreweries

Now, it’s no secret that three of my favourite things in the world are:

• Cheese
• Steak
• Fine Ale

I was pretty confident that I’d be just fine

Incidentally, it turns out that I actually learnt most about Ye Olde Philadelphia and the history therein from a fairly unlikely source — Day of the Tentacle, an old computer game.

He Walks

I was staying in the Crowne Plaza. It was a hotel. I was impressed with the SEVEN different pillows on the bed, and it was generally a cut above the equivalent price point in the UK. Not that I’ve got all that much experience of non-budget hostelries, anyway. It was, however, handily close to work and the city centre.

It also purported to have an "English Style Pub". Which it did. Almost. If you try to imagine the bastard offspring of a back street local and the bar from Cheers, you’d be pretty much there. Interesting. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any non-lager on draught — Sam Adams lager comes close, but that’s about it.

During the week, I walked around just about the whole of central Philly. All the tourist areas, certainly, but also some of the more local bits. Lots of out-of-the-way murals and interesting cafés…and the odd fantastic Belgian bar.

It really is a very nice city — pretty and well-kept. With the current exchange rates, it was also a cheap city. Which is nice.

Unfortunately, I was there on my own (apart from the first evening), and didn’t actually end up going out with anyone in the office of an evening. Maybe next time. So I didn’t exactly go out and sample the nightlife.

Top tip, BTW. One thing they don’t mention in the guides is the street numbering. Okay, so we all know about the whole grid thing, but what about building numbers? i see "1605 Cherry St" and I wonder where the hell along the 3km length of Cherry St that is. Well, it’s between 16th and 17th Streets. Obviously. Still, it took me a while to figure it out!

He Eats (and Drinks!)

What I did do, however, was eat an absolute shedload. This is the little list of restaurants I visited:

1. The Nodding Head
   On the flight over, I bumped into Derek, one of my co-workers. He was doing audit stuff elsewhere, but we were both in Philly on Monday evening…so he took me to a brewpub for dinner. Much jambalaya. Cheap, tasty, and the beer was excellent — I had a mild and a strong porter, both of which were lovely.
2. Quizno’s Subs
   You think Subway is nice? Quizno’s is MUCH better.
3. Moshi Moshi
   Sashimi. Not the best, but pretty good considering my $22 dinner budget.
4. Independence Brewpub
   Lovely lovely steak. Plus a taster selection of all six of their ales. Most were light, with an IPA at something like 9% ABV. Wow. The single dark roasty porter-a-like was my favourite, naturally.
5. El Vez
   This one was quite something. Samantha and I had lunch as a "team building exercise" (Joy, the other Philly-based author, was meant to join us, but she had to take the day off as her kids were sick), recommended by Alison, my boss. A sort of Mexican Elvis (the El Vez of the title) themed joint. Either horribly tacky, or visually stunning…depending on your taste. The food was tasty, and there was an absolute shedload of it — if we’d known, we’d not have got the MONSTROUS nacho starter between us. Samantha packed a doggy bag. We also stuck to beer — the cocktail list was pretty impressive.
6. Pat’s King of Steaks
   The Home of the Cheesesteak. And bloody miles away. It was something like a 30 block walk from the hotel…which is 3km or thereabouts. And back again. Was it worth it? For the experience, yes, plus I got to see the Italian quarter. For the cheesesteak…not sure. It was pretty nice, but I later had a cheesesteak from a no-name place near the hotel, that was pretty close.
7. Seafood Unlimited
   A little seafood joint, which served up some very tasty fish indeed. I can’t remember what it was, but it was nice. Might have been tilapia with a wasabi crust. Yes, that was it. Tasty. Their keyword is definitely ‘fresh’.
8. Cosi
   Just a breakfast sandwich here. The classiest sandwich chain I visited, and the best.
9. Fuji Mountain
   More sashimi. More expensive (I was no longer on expenses), and absolutely gorgeous. I wish I could get my fill of sashimi for $30 around here!
10. Wendy’s
    Burgers as they should be done. MUCH better than the McDonalds and Burger Kings of Blighty…and let’s not even mention Wimpy!
11. Five Guys
    And I thought Wendy’s was good. These guys were IMMENSE. A burger that wouldn’t disappoint in a gastropub, never mind a fast food joint. And the fries. Oh, the fries. I pride myself on making damn fine chips — just how I like them, thin cut, skin on, double (or sometimes treble) fried slightly on the crisp side. These come pretty close, perhaps even surpassing my efforts. Definitely not the Yank fries I was expecting, these were done in peanut oil. Delicious. They even have monkey nuts in little pots on the tables. Seriously — if you’re anywhere near one of their locations, you should give them a try. Unless you’re vegetarian.

I also found some decent-looking joints in Chinatown, including a couple of highly-reviewed Malaysian eateries and also an all-you-can-eat sushi bar. Oh yes. Reading Terminal Market is also worth a mention, for general fineness. I believe one of the other top cheesesteak vendors around is the one in the market.

In summary, I really did eat well, and cheaply too.

As a side-note, Samantha lent me her old guidebook, in which it described the Sam Adams brewery. Anyone who knows beer knows Sam Adams. It’s good stuff. So off I headed…and thought, well, this place looks familiar. I eventually ended up at the Nodding Head again — looks as though Sam Adams outgrew the premises and moved on (away from the city centre). Oh well.

Despite America being the land of tasteless "beer", I didn’t endure any dross in Philly. Pretty much every beer I had was an interesting one, from Sam Adams draught lager upwards. Even restaurants tended to have a bottled ale on, usually Sam Adams, Liberty or…erm…I can’t remember the name…Manayunk.

Here is an article on Philadelphia’s brewing history. Good stuff!

Anyway, that’s quite enough for now. I’ll have to write a Part II at some point, with details of some of the sights wot I saw.

Reading up from last year’s Cheltenham Mike-and-Pam-fest, I don’t think this year’s flavour was quite as interesting. Definitely fun, though!

So, Saturday morning. I awake, groggily as per usual. Not hung over, but only because I’d picked up a nasty cold and had spent the best part of Friday in bed.

Load up the car - as well as my overnight stuff and beer supply, there were Pete, Sarah and Rosy’s…and a certain amount of culinary equipment and ingredients to be carted down, too.

I picked up Si and Adrian, just about on time, and hit the M56 around 1pm. We made good time (I spared no horses) and got to Mike and Pam’s flat just shy of 3pm.

I had some anti-cold stuff and headed straight into the kitchen, where Pam and I knocked up some serious foodage:

• Thai-ish Chicken Curry
  Pretty much an Indian-style coconut-based curry, but with lemongrass, galangal root, ginger and fresh coriander. I made medium and hot versions, to suit all tastes.
• Pam’s Monster Chilli
  Standard chilli really, and nicely done. Served with taco shells, grated cheese, guacamole and sour cream stuff.
• Coconutty Carrots with Mustard Seeds and Turmeric
  Exactly what it says on the tin. Except that nothing came out of a tin.
• Saffron Rice
  Basmati rice. With saffron, a bit of ginger and some left-over coriander.

I think there were 13-15 people eating. Let’s see…

Pam, Mike, me, Si, Adrian, Jenn, Jonesy, Matt, Emily, Chris, Sarah, Kate, Linden and Rob

14. And Shifty had a huge plate of leftovers when he finally did arrive. It was the usual crowd of old friends, which is always nice.

Once food was out of the way, and the leftovers carried away by dint of The Kitchen Conga*, I finally got to drink some beer

* Can’t make friends with saa-lad [kick!], Can’t make friends with saa-lad [kick!]…

Beer was consumed, and we headed to the pub for more. Much conversation, once we’d rearranged sufficient furniture for two large tables of us. We talked about classic 80s (etc.) films that Dr.Kate hadn’t seen, and realised that I just don’t watch any American shows with monosyllabic titles, e.g. Spooks and Bones and Lost…until this was negated by Scrubs and Friends. Bugger.

CAMRA Amy and Olly (Oli? Olli?) turned up, which was nice. It’s great to see that Amy’s doing alright these days.

Eventually it was back home for much more drinking, away into the night. Colin and Nicola turned up, as did Pete, Sarah and Rosy, who’d been away at the Good Food Show.

Many of Pam’s am-dram mates turned up, and I seemed to spend lots of the evening chatting to randoms. I tend to do that, I suppose. There were two couples there who could have been brother and sister, so similar did they look - spooky, and nowhere near Norfolk! Mind you, not too far off from the West Country, so…

Some of the randoms had come from a (not very good, apparently) ‘C’ party, hence the lab-coat (chemist) and the two-cans-on-a-string (can-can). There was also a girl who had several silver rosettes stuck to her front…I was actually sad enough to recognise Cassiopeia straight off

People drifted off around 2ish, I guess, leaving us to look up the Ashes score on Teletext. Not good. About then, the cold really hit me and I had to get some rest. After some wise prompting from Pam, I headed off to the spare room to beg Emily for half a double sofa-bed. And a small double sofa-bed at that. I had to settle for a third in the end, pretty much sandwiched between Em (who moves around quite a bit in her sleep, it turns out) and Mike’s drum kit. Nice. The cold kicked in - hopefully Emily didn’t catch it - and I had an awful night’s sleep.

Also, I think I’ve blogged this before, but I’m really no good at sharing a bed with people. Just having someone sleeping that close to me means that I wake up frequently. It’s the same with sharing a tent. I suppose it’s because I’m just not used to it, being perpetually single and all that. Ho hum.

Sunday

After a few false starts, I decided to get up and get showered. I wasn’t going to get any more sleep. I left Emily sprawled across the bed, fairly asleep, and stumbled around the place. Everyone else was asleep, which is pretty unusual - I’m usually last up at parties like that, just because I’m usually knackered.

Demankification happened, and I joined the dead bodies in the living room, eventually finding "The Story of Football" on the shelves. It’s a GREAT book, being a pretty comprehensive history of the game up until the 70s. Plenty on Arsenal’s general sordidness and Tottenham’s glory (glory) years to keep me happy

I checked the Ashes score on my phone, expecting bad things, and was stunned to find that Pietersen and Collingwood had blitzed 160-or-so runs in a session-and-a-bit. Nice. There were even clouds spotted within a in time zone of Brisbane!

People awoke, and it was off to a trendy champagne bar, Bentley’s, for lunch. The sort of place that’s frequented by monied oiks of a Saturday night, but decent enough during the day. Soft drinks were consumed.

Headed back to Mike and Pam’s eventually, bumping into Cassiopeia and Can-Can on the way - most of the others had no idea who they were - and hit the road. Si, Pete, Rosy and Sarah were in the MahindaBus (MkII) this time, with Adrian fortunately getting a lift with Cattac.

Got home, and pretty much headed to bed. After watching much hot lesbo action courtesy of Torchwood, of course. Lovely.

Right, dear readers. I left you with Jenita and I together in her hotel room. Time unspecified, but it’s after 5am on Sunday morning.

So, it’s now getting close to 7am, and the two of us are still awake. Jenita goes into the bathroom…and Piiya storms in, finds me there, and tells me in no uncertain terms that it’s time for me to leave. I don’t think she likes me

I get my stuff together, Jenita emerges, and we go into the corridor.

Now, I don’t know whether Piiya returned in response to a signal of some sort, or whether it was random. Jenita’s attitude in the corridor suggests that she’s sorry to see me go.

I promise to visit Tampere, and we embrace for a while. One last kiss, and I head out of the door, down the stairs, and into the bright morning sunlight.

It’s pretty much 7am now. I promptly head in the wrong direction, only to think about things a few seconds later, and then scan the distance for church spires - one of the churches in Old Town is believed to have been the tallest building in the world between something like the 15th and 18th centuries.

I see the familiar spire, and head towards it.

I get back at something like 7.20am, and head down to mine and Paul’s dungeon room. He stirs and calls me a dirty stop-out. Or words to that effect. I collapse into bed, asleep instantly.

Breakfast-time comes. Not a chance. I eventually wake, shower, pack my stuff, and groggily head outside, to the minibus that’s waiting to take us to the airport. I get a cheer from the lads, and several lewd comments. Oh well, you commit the crime…

Airport

Get to Tallinn airport, check in. I don’t get patted down, for a change - as a 20something Asian bloke travelling alone, I’ve become pretty used to getting patted down at every possible opportunity.

While milling around in the departure lounge, Ian points out that I’ve been called on the tannoy. I missed it entirely, in my very groggy state. He’d had the same thing, and it was basically a bag check.

I end up having to go back into the front section of the airport, then into a room where an Estonian women (who, rather impressively, had gotten my name right!) had my hefty rucksack on a table.

"You have alcohol in this?" She asked. Erm. I had quite a bit, as it happened.

"Yes" I replied, and extricated it all. Vana Tallinn and various other liqueurs.

"Vana Tallinn! Good! No vodka?"

"Nope."

Satisfied, she indicates that I should put my bag on the conveyor and proceed. Which I do. I have no idea why she was happy with me taking multiple bottles of 40/45% liqueur rather than vodka. Ho hum.

Back to the lads, eventually on to the plane. I’m rather hung over at this point.

As if by magic, though, a long and involved conversation with Mylo does the trick, and I reach Stansted in considerably better spirits, albeit still knackered.

Mike drives me back to his place, we watch the footy for a while (with me dozing off every so often), and I eventually decide that I really must be going.

The long drive up the A14 and M6 included a few service station stops, much coffee, and an hour’s nap. Definitely needed.

Home, and pretty much straight to bed. Which was nice.

And that’s all! Sorry about the delay - to say that I’ve been busy of late would be a bit of an understatement.

Jenita Update

Being the internet stalker that I am, I Googled Jenita, based on her name, where she was from, and her job. I found her, and an article on horse racing that she’d written. Lovely.

I also found her email address…which tallied with the one she’d given me.

I emailed her sometime in early September (once I’d gotten back from Sri Lanka)…and still haven’t had a reply

I’m guessing that she simply used me for a bit of holiday fun. Not that I’m complaining too much…it’s just that, well, we seemed to "work" together quite nicely, and it would have been nice to stay in touch.

I certainly didn’t get the impression that she never wanted to see me again. Women, eh? Rubbish!

A month after the event, and I’m still writing about it!

Afternoon II

It’s later in the afternoon, and I’ve returned to the hostel. Spent a while chatting to Mylo, who was sitting in the courtyard rather forlornly, foot up on a chair with a tea-towel cold pack.

Eventually, I decided to head off in search of alcohol. Rather than go anywhere in Old Town, I decided to head out and find somewhere non-touristy. Which I did, close to the Mexican restaurant we’d visited the night before.

I ended up buying loads:

• Vana Tallinn Cream
• Vana Tallinn Original
• Vana Tallinn "Export Strength" (45% rather than 40%)
• Honey liqueur
• Cherry liqueur
• Cigarettes for the parents

I rounded it all off with a Hesburger, and home I went. When in foreign parts, I usually try out their equivalent of a Big Mac or Whopper, just to see the difference. You’d be surprised at how much McDonald’s varies, never mind using other chains, e.g. Burghy in Italy. Hesburger is Finnish, and therefore inherently much more civilised than anything the Americans have to offer.

Indeed, the Big Hess was a mighty affair - exactly what a Big Mac should be! The lettuce was plentiful and crisp, the burgers themselves meaty, and the sauce rather tasty.

Now, Lawrence (I think) had a theory about why the Estonian women are just so damn gorgeous - it was because they didn’t partake of processed food. Sensible, I thought…until I walked into Hesburger, fully expecting to find Estonia’s entire quota of larger females. Nope, all still gorgeous as they chomped down on their Hesburgers, delicately wiping away stray globules of ketchup from the corners of their perfect little mouths……and I’ll stop there.

Suitably fed, I headed back to the hostel for a lie-down.

Evening

Peppersack was the plan. Phil couldn’t quite manage to get us into Olde Hansa, so second-best would have to do.

Mediaeval themed, and touristy, but good. We had a waiter who looked a bit like Luke from Star Wars IV: A New Hope, and a belly-dancer who bore more than a passing resemblance to Leia’s outfit in Jabba’s palace…Return of the Jedi? Either way, we weren’t complaining.

There was a swordfight too, and a strolling mariachi band.

The food was excellent, and of course the beer was tasty. I had Kesseler, mainly because I couldn’t figure out quite what it was. It turned out to be grilled smoked pork, and possibly my best meal of the trip.

After dinner, it was out on the town. Various locations were sampled, including Nimeta of course, before we headed down to Venus, just out of Old Town. Now, a proper nightclub with a rather Russian crowd, this promised dance and Europop until the wee hours.

Much silly dancing was done, complete with Iri and Wilko’s "fire in the hole" routine. Nice. Definitely of note was the quality of the two dancing girls…well, one in particular. The other one, well, let’s just say that we spent a while looking for evidence of an Adam’s apple

A rather pathetic 2am came, and most of the group had either left, or were leaving. Lightweights!

Hometime…Or Not

It’s about 3.40am, and the last four of us leave the cheesy dance and sultry dancing girls of Venus. Think it may have been Mark, Little Paul, Iri and I, but I really have very little idea.

3.55am and we’re almost back to Raekoja Plats…when I realise that they’ll still be serving at Nimeta Bar!

"Come on lads" says I, "we can catch last orders!"

So we did. I had my usual dark beer, and got some beer for the others too, I think. We just start drinking, when Mark gesticulates towards someone and says "Isn’t that the bird you pulled last night?"

I look round, see Piiya talking to some blokes, and reply "No, that’s just her mate." It took a couple of seconds for me to twig that, where Piiya was, Jenita was likely to be too. It took a couple more
seconds to spot her, after which I toddle over and say hello.

We talked. She seemed quite happy to see me. I turn round and see that the others have scarpered back to the hotel. Makes a change from the night before!

It turns out that Jenita and Piiya have got chatting to a bunch of Northern Irish chaps, who were staying at the same hotel as them.

I can’t remember the exact details, but the four of us ended up outside, Northern Irish chap and me chatting to each other while the two girls had a bit of a conference.

Oh yeah - Jenita led me outside so we could be away from the others. This time, I do get her email address - RESULT!

Anwyay, the conference ended. Piiya took NI bloke’s arm, Jenita mine, and we headed out of Old Town, towards the girls’ hotel.

It was quite a walk. Jenita and I chatted away happily. Her father, it seems, is an engineer, civil I think, so would approve of me. My father wouldn’t approve of her, I explained, but I certainly didn’t care.

We got to the hotel, Piiya and bloke a fair bit ahead of us. Jenita and I stopped by the water cooler in the hallway for a bit, kissing away contentedly, before heading back to the room she shared with Piiya, who’d gone to NI bloke’s instead.

It was lovely. I’m not going to detail what happened, suffice to say that we didn’t go anywhere near as far as some people have suggested.

I awoke at something like 9.15am. Either way, it was far too damn early. I tried to prod Paul awake, and then dragged my sorry self into the shower.

Our room being our room, there was no natural light. Not the best for being able to tell what time it is.

Anyway, I later emerged, fresh and clean, and awoke the stag.

We slunk down to breakfast just before 10am (i.e. jut in time) to find a few of the lads already there. Some hadn’t turned up at all, and some were considerably worse for wear than others.

I tucked into a sizeable mix of hot and cold stuff, including little bits of tasty frankfurter. Paul prodded a bit of frank around he plate before giving up, having had a mouthful or two.

Back to the room, to realise exactly how badly it smelt. Very.

Paul headed straight to bed, while I decided to join some of the others at 10.30am and mosey round town a bit. Think we ended up taking in the market. Lots of tourist tat, with some nice bits of craft thrown in. Definitely the place to go if you want something that makes you look like a multicoloured yak.

Paintball

The plan was to meet back at the hotel for midday, where Phil had arranged for two minibuses to take us out to a paintball venue.

Unfortunately, all was not well in the state of people’s heads. Not just heads, either - Mylo and Ian were definitely ruled out due to seriously bad ankles. Ian’s in particular looked really nasty, with the striations of his muscles showing up in various shades of dark purple against his pale and swollen skin.

Some others, unfortunately, had nothing to blame but excess alcohol. The general consensus was that paintballing was a bad idea. About two thirds of the group would have done it, but less than half were properly up for it.

The taxis arrived. We hung around in the hotel foyer. Phil was NOT happy, and understandably so. Fortunately, he’d not paid anything, so all we did was seriously piss off some Estonians with paintball guns. Oh well.

Wilko and I went and settled up with the (rather annoyed as well) taxi drivers - 100EEK for each one, i.e. a fiver, so not so bad really.

We all then split into small groups and went along our merry ways.

Afternoon

Mike, Ian, Little Paul and I first headed to a little local tearoom for a spot of lunch. Well, tea and cakes, anyway. This was Ian’s spot, and about 100 yards from the hotel. Good work - it proved to be very cheap and rather tasty. Full of old local women, which is always a good sign.

Here, I plumped for a bottle of random Vana Tallinn based alcopop stuff…which really wasn’t very good. The stuff just isn’t meant to be mixed with anything fizzy!

The cake and coffee were nice, though.

After that, we traipsed off towards the old city walls, and had a look at the Alexsander Nevski Cathedral, which is a seriously impressive Russian Orthodox cathedral on the outside…and a seriously ornate Russian Orthodox cathedral on the inside. Much like the big cathedral in Riga. There’s actually a bit of a story behind it - it was built towards the end of the 19th century as a sign of Russian might, slap bang in the middle of what was one of Tallinn’s biggest squares. While building it, they demolished a statue of Martin Luther - as large chunks of the Baltic States and Scandinavia are Lutheran, that was quite a symbolic thing to do.

I also had a poke in the Toom Kirk (well, I think it was that one) - the local Lutheran cathedral and seat of Estonian churchdom. Big and sparse, it was impressive in a very stark and sombre way. On the walls were all the old coats of arms from the various provinces of the area - ornately carved out of old wood, some of these were a clear 4 feet in width, perhaps more.

Our tourist desires sated, we wandered back to the hotel, via many many steps and much sunshine.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - the girls in Tallinn are very beautiful indeed! One in particular springs to mind, who we kept spotting during the walk back to the hotel.

Anyway, that’s it for now. Part II coming up at some point, I s’pose…