Reading UK December 2011

Now I am always happy to visit Reading. I've been going there on and off for the last 15 years and the town has certainly grown on me. Picture a typical English provincial nest that has been augmented with a couple of business parks and shopping centers. The infrastructure cannot cope with the traffic - the couple of miles from the Thames Valley business park to the city center can, at the worst of times, take over 1 hour. This may lead one to curse the town and its environs. However, there are gems there that more than make up for this inconvenience.

1. Gem Nr. 1 - The Hobgoblin pub situated on Broad Street, Reading's main pedestrian thoroughfare. This sanctuary from the everyday is over 300 years old and comes complete with snugs. It doesn't serve food - all it does is serve wonderful and quirky British beers and ales from niche breweries. This time I had the luck to be able to down a pint of "Hot Dog Chilli Stout" which tasted much better than it sounds. But the great thing about quirky pubs is that it attracts quirky characters. The Hobgoblin regulars are a mix of society from the local canal lock keeper to the business park IT professional - the one thing all have in common is the love of a good pint in convivial surroundings - the staff are British and know their stuff - one even left to start his own brewery - his beer was being served there on my last visit.

speaking of my last visit, I was talking to some folk there when a group of young men arrived into the pub - 20 of them, it was, all dressed as Santa's elves. The lads, it turned out, were members of a rugby team from the nearby university. They ordered their pints in silence - gesticulating their orders to the barman. The captain of this merry band, incidentally also the rugby team captain, was the only one allowed to talk - but even he was a man of few words. What I did learn though is that the boys were on a pub crawl and this was a silent stop. No one was allowed to talk or make any noise - like Trappist monks on a day out.



The next stop would, of course, be a non-silent one. So all of us were glad to be staying put. Now the Hobgoblin is not the only real ale pub in Reading there is also "The Nag's Head" on Russel Street - up the other end of the town. They are currently serving an "Oscar Wilde Mild" a must for all literati.

2. Gem Nr. 2.

The Kennett and Avon Canal. This lovely canal runs through the town and out to the Thames Valley business park and beyond. It is a joy to walk to work along it's banks. There are still some architectural gems along its banks - these canal side houses may seem to have lost the competition with the modern multi-stories overarching them - but they are still here and taunt the modern with their simplicity and style. The canal has a fine population of swans and ducks and one does see the lock in action, especially in summer with the many barge tourists.

3. Gem Nr. 3.

Reading Jail, opened in 1844 - this was the place that broke the back of THE Irish man of letters - Oscar Wilde. It might have broken his back but not his spirit as the "Ballad of Reading Gaol" testifies.

In Reading gaol by Reading town
There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wretched man
Eaten by teeth of flame,
In a burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name.

Oscar did his 2 years hard labour in the jail and, on release, left for Paris where he died a few years later, destitute.






4. Gem Nr. 4.

Reading Minster or the Church of St. Mary the Virgin.
The origins of the Church go back to St. Birinus in the 7th century. Today it's gothic spirit acts as a counterpoint to the lack lustre modern day surrounding it.

What really intrigues me is the old tree in its grounds -

November/December 2011 Mother Ireland's taxi driver from Navan

I spent a week in Dublin at the end of November. And what a week it was...
I arrived at Dublin airport full of joy and caught a taxi home. The taxi driver was an older lady, originally from Dublin but now living in Navan. As soon as she found out I was Irish, she began bemoaning the state of the country and the evils of the upcoming budget. The hard hitting budget, a result of the Euro crisis, was due to be presented the following week, but most points had already been leaked to the press - carbon tax, VAT increase, fuel increase, social welfare decrease - you get the drift. The Greeks would be manning the barricades at this stage, but we Irish seemed to be falling back into the fatalism that brought us through centuries of British occupation, penal laws, famine etc. It is interesting to note the different reactions of the 2 countries. The Greeks complain and lose the head, we complain and drop the head.

But don't confuse our head dropping with giving up. We are used to hard times - they were de facto up until the 1970's. Most people had enough but not more and emigration was a fact of life. Nearly everyone lived in a house - it was probably very modest but it was their's or the Corporation's. Apartments, bistros etc. were foreign to us. Pubs didn't serve food, you ate at home.

The property boom that accompanied the Celtic Tiger put an end to all of that and as a direct result of that our taxi driver was living in Navan instead of Dublin. Dublin's working class was priced out of the city and many had to bite the bullet and go into inner emigration to the satellite towns emerging around the city, one of which was Navan.

I tried to boost her spirits by telling her about my friend who moved down there many years ago. He sold his 3 bed semi in Dublin and bought a 4 bed detached just outside the town in one of the new dormitory settlements. I told her how happy he was but no joy with her. "No fun in Navan if you're unemployed" and, of course she has a point.

But let's not denigrate Navan - I passed through the town very often as a child on the way to visit my grandmother in Kells - 10 miles further down the road. Kells was, for my father, the centre of the universe - Navan a very important satellite.
So what is Navan famous for?

1. First of all it's name as Gaeilge - an Uaimh - the cave. Now where was the cave? what happened there? Go to an Uaimh and look for yourself. Also the palindromic nature of "Navan" - There are only a few palindromic places in the world, all I can think of is Ellemelle in Belgium and Oktahatko in Florida - maybe you know some more?

2. Bloodshot terrace, a row of houses on the Kells road, built for ex-British soldiers returning from WW1. Bloodshot comes from the regular fist fights after the boozer on pension day.

3. Tara - The hill of Tara, seat of the Irish Ard-Rís (High Kings), is very close to Navan - visit it then come back into the town, spend some money and boost the local economy. The hill requires some use of the imagination as the original structure was a wooden construction - they obviously had better things to do than to immortalise themselves in stone - they live on in stories as epic as any you could find.

4. The river Boyne flows close to the town - this river was immortalised through the Battle of the Boyne in 1690 where James faced William of Orange in that clash of culture which determined the course of British and Irish history. This of course, gave rise to the cult of the Orangemen which persists to this day.

The battle actually happened close to Drogheda but, if you had time on your hands, you could certainly swim to there from Navan. You would probably be the first person to do so which certainly adds some kudos to the whole undertaking.

5. Pierce Brosnan is a Navan man - Pierce, who enthralled us all as Remington Steele, James Bond and a host of other roles, is a Navan man born and bred. On a Summer's day you can meet him strolling through the town with a throng of Hollywood buddies in tow. No what more could you ask for?

6. Navan Carpets and their ad - "Only an hour from Dublin"

Definitely worth putting on your list of places to see before you die!

November 2011 Bangalore India

This is my 3rd trip to India. I have talked with many India fans down thru the years, however they've never really convinced me. The caveat is that I have only been there for work, visiting cities such as Mumbai, Pune and Bangalore - no Goa, no Rajastan for me.

Anyway back to Bangalore, apparently the city was known as the retirement city of choice for Indian civil servants. It had many tree lined streets, one could breath relatively clean air - thus it had earned it's "green" city title. Then came the IT boom, the influx of many young professionals, building boom etc. Now for me it is just look the other Indian cities I visited - loud, congested, smelly, and, of course, full of life. This is my takeaway from India, we humans don't need all that much to survive, this is being lived day in and day out on the streets of Indian cities. It isn't a pleasant sight for my western eyes, I certainly wouldn't want to partake of it. However, that's the way it is.

I stayed at the ITC Gardenia hotel downtown, which I must say is the best hotel I've ever stayed in. Put one foot out the door and you are in the middle of Indian street life, however, within the hotel one had an "Insel der Glueckseligkeit". I ventured out for a walk one afternoon, turning right I walked by a hospital - lots of visitors, patients, casual callers, hawkers sitting on the wall. Some deep in thought smoking their hopefully not last cigarette, others deep in conversation. I walked on and saw something that has been indelibly etched in my mind. There on the goods driveway into the hospital was a dead rat flat on her back, a giant black crow bending over its booty. The crow then proceeded to peck open the stomach of the rat and then feasted on the innards. The epitomy of Indian life for me.

Hindu temples are certainly very colourful and probably the most photographed objects in India, after the street cows. I visited the temple above on my last visit to Bangalore. It was just down the road from my hotel on a busy thoroughfare. You leave the street bustle and enter an almost Disney-like world populated by the usual pantheon of Gods and Goddesses. It was hard for me to take it seriously, not very conducive to meditation, if you know what I mean. Very escapist just like Bollywood. On that visit I also took the opportunity to visit Mysore, a couple of hours from Bangalore. The palace there is well worth a visit, built in the 19th century with lots of modernistic touches. I was the only Westerner there and obviously stuck out like a sore thumb.
Soon a policeman approached me -
"Good day sir, where are you from sir."
I told him I came from Ireland.
"Lovely country sir, by the way sir, I have a rather interesting hobby".
I naturally enough asked for more details.
"I collect bank notes sir, maybe you could give me some for my collection?".
Now this is where quick thinking is required.
I replied - "Well that's a great hobby, if I may say so. But I've been in India 6 weeks now and have only Indian notes and I'm sure you already have them all in your collection".
He looked at me, I looked back at him - then he went off without a word.

I then went into the palace only to be told that I would have to leave my camera outside at a small kiosk before entering. "No photos allowed" the guide said to me. "OK" said I put my camera into it's bag and promised not to take any photos.
"But do you want to take photos?"
"You just told me it's not allowed"
"But do you want to?"
"No, I don't want to break the rules"
"But you can"

This is India.

Anyway off I went on the palace tour. Half way thru I saw a policeman grabbing someone's cell phone and accusing them of taking a picture with it. Naturally the unfortunate individual had to pay an "on the spot fine" to get his phone back.

Outside again, I was accosted by a group of young Indians who asked me where I was from. This time I replied that I lived in Germany - which is quite true. They responded with "Hitler, Hitler" and big smiles. I had a serious chat with them and explained that today's Germans don't want to be reminded of the war, National Socialism etc. "If you want to get on their good side then mention Goethe, Schiller even Beckenbauer". So if you're a German and you're in Mysore...

November 2011 - Jo'burg South Africa

I real like Jo'burg - well let me correct that I really like the environs of Joburg. The city itself is dishevelled, downtown has nothing really of interest except for the Muti market and the SAB brewery. There is also a museum which has a strange collection ranging from prehistoric finds to apartheid shanties, to the history of Johannesburg's gay community, to a display of 19th century shoes. All very well and good and probably interesting to niche groups, but not really my thing.

There is a ring road that goes around the city, arriving at the airport I usually pick up a rental car and make my way to the northern suburb of Sandton. The environs of Joburg are very green, this time of the year the Jacaranda in in bloom providing a great dash of colour. Apparently the tree is not indigenous to South Africa and is now seen as a pest. You cannot buy one in your local garden centre which seems a shame. Judge for yourself, are they beautiful or what?

Anyway Sandton is the place to stay if you're here on business, it's also the place to stay if you want to be able to venture out of your hotel room at night. This is one of the major downers here - most whites live in gated communities with their own private security. Most blacks, unfortunately still live in dire poverty in communities with no gates and often enough with public latrines. I did stay in a B&B in other suburb once but couldn't go out at night, it just ain't safe! Excessive wealth + abject poverty = property crime. Don't blame the media, don't blame the youth - the fault lies purely at the inequitable division of wealth.

Anyway, enough of the politics - for those really interested please see Amandla magazine - http://www.amandlapublishers.co.za/

I like the Holiday Inn in Sandton's Rivonia Rd, the rooms are adequate and quiet,the breakfast wholesome and you have free access to planet fitness across the road - http://www.planetfitness.co.za/clubs/Rivonia.aspx

You can also walk to Sandton City mall and Mandela Square... If there I recommend you try the African restaurant Lekgothla - http://www.lekgotla.com/

The food is great and the atmosphere too. The last time I was there however, the drummers were silent. They were seated near to the door but no one was a -drumming. Then all of a sudden the drumming began, a group of Chinese guests were arriving, then silence again. 5 minutes later - more drumming - more Chinese guests, and on it went until the Chinese party was complete. A political statement or what? I wonder what the reaction would be if the Dalai Lama entered for a bite or 2 of crocodile.

Another evening, in a different restaurant in Mandela Square, I had an interesting conversation with one of the waiters. He explained to me that the penthouses in the towers of Mandela Square are the most expensive real estate in the city - starting from R80K per month rental. He also mentioned that he was once in the lift of the penthouse building and happened to share the ride with some of the inhabitants. He told me how he felt despised by them and how their arrogance made him feel so small. I wonder who actually lives there?

Mandela Square and environs is also a hangout for ladies of the night. The operate in the day time as well. I was accosted there at 5pm one evening - "Hello there sexy man" says she to me. I was taken aback - I am tall, dark and handsome, but not even my wife calls me that. I was about to engage the young lady in a political discourse on the evils of prostitution and violence against women, but decided against it. With a "good evening to you sexy woman" I left Mandela Square alone and made my way via Maude Street back to my hotel.

October 2011 - Utrecht Netherlands

My favourite city in NL. It has great buildings, plenty of canals, a university, a great selection of places to eat and drink, pedestrianised downtown, a lekker Indian restaurant (Taj Mahal - how original).

Just like Amsterdam except for the sodom and gomorrah.

It rained most of the time I was there, however the nightly curries at the Taj Mahal kept my spirits up. http://www.tajmahal.nl/

I stayed in the NH hotel as my usual abode the Karel V was full. This NH hotel harks back to the 80s. It is a quirky place - they have captions on the lift such as -
"Guess who you are going to meet in the lift today?".

I guessed and guessed - Ruud Gullit, Marco van Basten, Arjen Robben, Robin van Persie - but never got it right. It was always someone I didn't know.

They also praise their breakfast to the high heavens - apparently their "revolutionary breakfast concept" is second to none. I partook of the repast, just to check it out. What would you expect at a revolutionary breakfast? Bottles of whiskey on the tables? Attac pamphlets? Nothing of the sort - just the usual hotel frass.

It was in this hotel a couple of years ago that I was told the following story by a young Englishman. He had emigrated to Utrecht and his parents had driven over with the remainder of his stuff. They were staying in the NH. He told me that the 3 of them were at breakfast in the hotel, the mother placing her handbag under the table. By the time they had finished, the bag was gone. The Englishman was convinced that a drug addict had somehow sneaked in and robbed the bag, while they were enjoying their revolutionary breakfast. I asked him if he had seen anyone in the breakfast room apart from the waiters. He replied - "No". No other guests, just the waiters and Mum and Dad. I've been pondering over this for years - who stole Mum's handbag?

October 2011 - Vilnius Lithuania

First impression of Vilnius - depressing as hell - something dark and dismal about the place.
Second impression of Vilnius - something dark and dismal about the place.

Vilnius seems to have that unfortunate mix of nordic/slavic. Unfortunate in that the ratio is 20/80. It is like a mix of Warsaw and Helsinki, with Warsaw winning by a mile. Historically Lithuania was a Polish province, the country enjoyed some decades of freedom until the second world war. During the war years, the town was became infamous for it's Jewish ghetto and the horrible fate of the ghetto's inhabitants. After the war they were under the Soviet yoke. The legacy of the communist years are still to be seen. There are many derelict buildings in the city centre, just waiting to be renovated. However, greed seems to be the controlling factor here, with the owners waiting for real estate prices to rise. In the outskirts one is greeted by the usual workers silos - the usual eastern European pre-cast concrete apartment blocks.

For all of that, the locals are fine and helpful - especially with directions. "You should come back in Summer. It's much nicer then!" is what one hears a lot, not only here but in the other rather foreboding cities of eastern Europe. I certainly will not be spending my summer holidays in Vilnius and environs, give me Howth and Portmarnock strand any day.

However, in the midst of all this sadness, I did find some great cafes on Pillies Street - the main thoroughfare of the old town. Give them their due, they certainly know their Cappuccino here. There are also some nice restaurants around there, but most offer the usual touristy stuff - loads of meat and frozen veg. nothing major to write home about! I wonder what Grand Duke Mindaugas would say...

My recommendation vis-a-vis Vilnius: If you have to go there then go,
if you don't then don't.

September 2011 - Bucharest Romania - Irish Pubs part 1

I spent a couple of days in Bucharest in September. Weather was lovely and I was staying downtown - which gave me an opportunity to wander around. What was the first point of interest I hit - yes, you guessed it the ubiquitous Irish pub - this one is called "Charlatans" very Irish if I may say.


It goes without saying that I was the only Irish person in the pub. The bar was staffed by very pretty and friendly Romanian girls - who smoked as they served - a first in all of my 35 years of drinking in Irish pubs - yes we do start young in Ireland! A Romanian football game was showing on the TV next to the darts board - no Sky ports here! All the guests seemed to be smoking - making me all nostalgic for the good old days - when men were men and pansy was the name of a flower. 

Only problem was they didn't know how to pull a pint! This is what really irks me about Irish pubs abroad - the essential lack of Irishness - the one basic skill of your Irish barman or as the used to be reverently called - the curate - unlearned or untaught. The staff all wear Guinness T-Shirts etc, there are signposts to Dublin, Cork and Donegal nailed to the walls, you can read the 1916 Proclamation - I'm sure the Romanians loved this - maybe Pearse's words gave the initial impetus for the revolution in 1989. I can just envision a load of Romanian dissidents getting fired up on Padraig's magic words - maith an fear thu!

All that stage Irishness is useless unless you can pull a pint! Anyway I taught the bartender how to do this -

1. hold the glass at a 45° angle to the tap.
2. start pouring...
3. stop when the glass is 80% full.
4. place the glass to the side and let the Guinness set.
5. serve other customers or smoke a cigarette, or go Romanian and do both.
5. after a couple of minutes, reverently top up the glass.
6. do not attempt to form a shamrock on the head, Irish people see this as demeaning and an affront to the nation as a whole.
7. ask the customer for 13 Lei and only when the customer has paid, do you give him/her the pint.
8. Say "Thank You" in your own native tongue - don't attempt any English / Irish phrases. You're not English/Irish  --> be proud of your Romanian heritage.


This the young lady accomplished with bravour. The pint tasted fine. Mission accomplished said me to myself.

I then took a look at the drinks menu and was amazed to read the heavy drinker column - normal drinkers are offered a pint of Guinness at 13 Lei, heavy drinkers can avail of the 10 pint offer at 105 Lei - a saving of 25 Lei, which would get you 5 halves of Tuborg. The only proviso is you have to drink the 10 pints yourself. Good thing though there is no time limit. You have the whole evening to down your 10 pints! Now why didn't they have that in the Dublin of my youth?   

 

On the way back to hotel from Charlatans, I was accosted by a man trying to sell me a woman. She grinned insanely at me while the man explained the modalities. I asked him politely if he considered me the type of man to be in need of such services. Obviously, in his eyes, I was. I explained to him that I was on the way back to my hotel where my lovely wife was waiting for me. My lovely wife, I continued, was much more attractive than his companion, she can converse with me in my native tongue(s), she shares my views, concerns, hopes for this world etc.etc.
I thanked him for his kind offer and grinned back insanely at the sex worker beside him.

September 2011 - Santa Clara California

I travel to northern California quite a bit, but this was the first time that I actually spent some time in Santa Clara. Santa Clara, like all the other valley cities, has one big disadvantage - it is nothing compared to San Francisco. However I did happen to find an excellent second hand bookshop there - Recycle -

http://www.yelp.com/biz/recycle-book-store-san-jose

Packed to the gills with bargain quality second hand books - what more could one ask for. A lot probably, but that's another matter. Driving to and from work, I passed the Tesla factory where they manufacture their "awesome" electric vehicles. I assume one day they will be an ubiquitous as the VW Golf. I passed a lot of so called cities and their shopping malls, each one essentially a carbon copy of the other. That's what really hits me here in the valley - there is no sense of history - one could term it ersatz living, albeit at a comfortable level. There is, for example a city called Dublin - which is in no way like my alma mater. Pleasanton, I must concur is a pleasant place to spend an evening. There is an excellent Mexican restaurant smack in the middle of main st. Livermore is - what can I say Livermore and Newark is no nonsense Newark - I got lost in Target there. Apart from that, Santa Clara came and went - like a ship in the night...It could have been San Jose for all I knew and cared. Maybe in 500 years people will visit Silicon valley with the same reverence as we do the Renaissance cities of Italy. Then I'll admit I don't know squat!

Introduction

The purpose of this blog is to keep a track on where I've been and what thoughts came to me when I was there.
I travel quite a lot for my job, it gives me the opportunity to see various countries and experience many cultures within a work perspective. This can be very different to what one experiences as a tourist. Anyone off we go...or as we say as Gaeilge - Táimíd ag teacht!