Articles – Page 11 – Latitude Post

Photographs from La Goutte d’Or

Posted on September 28, 2016 by Nicholas Peart

La Goutte d’Or is a district in Paris and a raw and vibrant slice of this city. The vast majority of its population is made up of people from the former French colonies most notably North African countries such as Morocco and Algeria and West and Central African countries such as Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso and the Congo.

This is a very interesting part of the city to explore, especially if you’ve already experienced many of Paris’s more obvious highlights such as the Eifel Tower, the Louvre, the Champs Élysées etc.

For bearings one could carve up the district as being the triangle with its points the metro stations Barbés Rochechouart, La Chapelle and Château Rouge.

The Rue Goutte d’Or has a couple of good and traditional North African restaurants to eat at. I particularly recommend an establishment called Agad’Or, which serves a substantial portion of Couscous Maison (daily homemade couscous with a soupy vegetable stew with chicken or meat and a medium baguette) for only six euros. Opposite Agad’Or there’s a cheap little boulangerie/patisserie where you can pick up a generous pan au raisin for only a euro. The Rue Goutte d’Or is in many ways the heart of the North African community. The first wave of North Africans arrived at the beginning of the 20th century and a more substantial wave of North African immigrants arrived here in the 1950s (during this time countries such as Morocco and Algeria were French colonies) mainly to work in the automobile industry.

Turning left up ascending Rue Polonceau, on your right there is a hole in the wall Congolese restaurant. I know almost next to nothing about the DRC or the traditional cuisine from that part of the world. Yet I was curious and intrigued. Maybe another time I’ll take a punt on it.

A little further up Rue Polonceau on your right is Rue St Luc which will take you towards the large church St Bernard de la Chapelle. On 23rd August 1996, the church hit international headlines when around 300 undocumented immigrants who had taken refuge at the church (including a few who went on hunger strikes) over a long period of time were expelled by force by the police.

On the corner of Rue St Luc and Rue Cavé, I stumble across a corner art gallery/work space which is currently showing a small but intresting exhibition on the history of public graffiti art in the streets of Paris beginning with the legendary early 1980s French graffiti artist Blek Le Rat who became an enormous influence on later more well known graffiti artists such as Banksy.

On Rue Cavé, there is a lovely lush garden representing an oasis of Eden like tranquility and blissfulness amongst the gritty streets. The street was named after François Cavé, who was a significant figure during France’s industrial development in the 19th century. What’s more, he provided bread to many of the residents of La Goutte d’Or.

If Rue Le Goutte d’Or is the heart of muslim North Africa, Rue Myrha is christian Sub Saharan Africa. Here I spot a small Senegalese hole in the wall eatery called Touba Resto which serves traditional Senegalese dishes daily such as maffe (a delicious peanut based stew), yassa and thieboudienne (the national dish of Senegal consisting of fish, rice and tomato sauce). At no46 Rue Myrha is a small ramshackle shop called Binta which sells herbs, barks and an array of intriguing traditional artisan products from Mali. It is packed to the gills with stuff and I can barely motion my way around especially with my cumbersome rucksack. There are many shops like this including quite a few informal fabric and clothes shops were one can see people sewing and making traditional garments. There is a also a world music shop called Pala Pala Music but unfortunately it was closed.

Walking onto the Rue des Poisonniers and the junction with Rue Dejean is the Marché Dejean with fruit and vegetable traders, fish mongers etc. It is a hive of activity. Around here I also see shops and people from other parts of the French speaking world such as Caribbean countries like Haiti and Guadalupe. This is the area around Chateau Rouge metro station. I find this part of Paris really alive and a great place to just watch life go by. I love the history and the infamous cafés of St Germain and the Left Bank (which I’ll be touching upon in another post) yet here is real life warts and all.

Text and images by Nicholas Peart

28th September 2016

On the Rue La Goutte d’Or

The Moroccan restaurant Agad’Or

Couscous Maison at La Goutte d’Or

Another North African restaurant also located on Rue La Goutte d’Or

Halal butchers on Rue La Goutte d’Or

Hole in the wall Congolese restaurant on Rue Polonceau

St Bernard de la Chapelle church which police stormed in August 1996 to forcibly remove many undocumented immigrants who for a long time had taken refuge at the church

A beautiful garden oasis on the Rue Cavé.

A Senegalese restaurant on Rue Myrha

Pala Pala world music shop

This shop sells traditional herbs, bark and crafts from Mali

On Rue Dejean in Château Rouge

Château Rouge

Haitian shop in Château Rouge

Senegalese and Togo restaurant

Four Great Places To Eat In Paris

Posted on September 25, 2016September 25, 2016 by Nicholas Peart

Image source: http://www.viator.com

Paris has a reputation for being quite a difficult city to find good value places to eat. Most restaurants are overpriced and combined with the colossal amount of people who visit the City of Love this means that it is not uncommon to experience lacklustre levels of service on top of the high prices. However with some research and a healthy sense of adventure gems can be unearthed. I have picked four eateries. Two budget eateries (under 10 euros per head), one mid range restaurant (10-20 euros per head) and one splurge (20-35 euros per head).

If you are really watching the centimes my advice to you would be to stick to baguette sandwiches for 3-4 euros from the ubiquitous boulangeries found all across the city. If you have kitchen facilities in your accommodation, the main supermarkets like Carrefour and Monoprix (or even better one of the big markets in the city) are good places to buy fruit, vegetables, cheeses, meats, wines etc

Maoz Vegetarian

The rue Xavier Privas in the 5th Arrondissement close to the river Seine and Notre Dame cathedral is chock a block full of cheap eats whether you are looking for cheap kebabs or Moroccan staples like couscous and tagines and many mediocre tourist trap restaurants. But by far the best of the cheapies is the falafel eatery chain called Maoz Vegetarian. This budget eatery is probably the healthiest of the four places I am recommending (that’s if you just count the falafels and salads and not the chips and soft drinks). Five euros gets you a pitta with falafel balls and you can choose your salads from the small but excellent salad bar. You can add humus for a euro more. For €8.50 you can include a soft drink and fries. Personally I am happy with just the pitta, fallafal balls, humus and generous salad helping. For six euros this is a super deal.

Agad’Or

Another budget choice. You have more chance of bumping into a back from the dead Jim Morrison here than another tourist here. This is far from haute cuisine. But if you want an authentic ethnic establishment serving cheap hearty portions of food full of locals with roots from the Maghreb then this Moroccan place located in La Goutte d’Or district in the 18th Arrondissement can’t be beat.

The Couscous Maison is what it’s all about here. You receive a mountain of couscous in a bowl served with a stew of chickpeas and vegetables. In another bowl you either get a chicken or meat stew. I went for the chicken. It also comes with a small baguette for breaking and dumping into the food. And it’s all yours for only six euros.

Couscous Maison at Agad’Or

It is no-frills food but it is good and filling especially if you are hungry. What’s more the experience and ambiance of the place could easily mislead one to believe they are in a typical Moroccan diner in the ville nouvelle de Tanger.

Bouillon Chartier

This places serves run of the mill traditional French food and perhaps I am making a big mistake including this but a pilgrimage here is a prerequisite for anyone who wants to experience a taste of the old Paris. This restaurant has been in existence for over 100 years and the architecture and interior decor remains unchanged. Some of the waiters have a reputation for being brusque but instead of being annoyed by this I say bring it on!! This is all part and parcel of the experience of dining here. There is no shortage of tourists that come to dine here at this legendary establishment so the waiters can afford to be jaded and downright indifferent. There is one burly old timer waiter here who looks like he’s been working here all his life. What’s more he has a face straight out of a Van Gogh or Manet painting. This restaurant is 1901 Montmartre Paris mixed with Faulty Towers. A rare thing in these aggressively globalised times. I love it!!

Inside Buillon Chartier

Now for the food. For my starter I had six Escargots (snails) lathed in massive amounts of garlic and butter.

Six Escargots

There were standard snails and I suppose I only picked them to say that I had tried French snails. They were good but certainly not Michelin Star quality.

For my main course I ordered the infamous French dish Steak Tartare or raw meat. I thought this was going to be rank but it was surprisingly quite tasty (yet I will definitely not be having this regularly for lunch or dinner). The side of frites and Dijon mustard were a good accompaniment.

Steak Tartare

When the waiter came to calculate our bill he sketched it all down on the paper table cover. The experience of eating at Chartier will always trump the quality of the food, but it is definitely worth it.

A La Biche Au Bois

If there is one place which I would consider worthy of that elusive splurge, this restaurant close to Gare de Lyon would be it. I went here one Saturday evening for dinner with my two sisters and a friend. We all went for the fixed dinner menu priced at €32.80 a head. This includes a starter, a main, a selection of different cheeses from the legendary cheese board (a work of art in itself) and a desert.

For my starter I went for the Terrine de Canard (two fat slabs of homemade duck pâté). It was just how pâté should taste and be made.

Terrine de Canard

However more impressive was my main course of Coq au Vin which came served in a heavy old school saucepan with a side of mashed potato in a gold coloured scallop shaped dish. The Coq au Vin was rich and delicious and I could barely make my way through all of it.

Coq Au Vin

By the time the waiter came with the enormous cheeseboard I was almost game over but I persisted. I went for a wedge of Roquefort, a lump of peppered goats cheese and a slice of tangy Comté cheese. The strength of the Roquefort alone could have shut down my heart but it was a veritable delight as were the other two cheeses.

Fromage!

Finally for dessert I was going to go for the Creme Brûlée but instead I went for another French dessert called Ile Flottante which literally translates as ‘Floating Island’. It is like a sweet foam square shaped cloud floating on a sugary egg yolk lake. It was a refreshing and pleasurable end to a hearty marathon of authentic and traditional French food.

Ile Flottante

I’ve got very little patience for stylish, jazzed up food and especially nouvelle cuisine which makes me mad. I just want hearty portions of delicious and authentic food from any part of the world that I visit. In the case of French Cuisine, A La Biche Au Bois does a sterling job.

By Nicholas Peart

25th September 2016

Mona Lisa Madness At The Louvre

Posted on September 22, 2016 by Nicholas Peart

Mona Lisa frenzy at the Louvre museum, Paris

I don’t think I’ve seen anything else quite like this in any other art museum I’ve been to around the world. The Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci is arguably the most iconic work of art in the world and the most well known. Perhaps the only other work by an old master with an iconic status almost equal to (but not quite of the same magnitude of) the Mona Lisa is The Girl With The Pearl Earing by the Dutch painter Johanes Vermeer.

It is actually quite rare that a random member of the general public knows the title of a work of art by a famous artist. Everyone has heard of Picasso but how many can name the title of one of his many works? The same for Andy Warhol, the same for Jackson Pollock, Damien Hirst etc.

I am quite fascinated by the monumental popularity of the Mona Lisa. The stampede to even just catch a glimpse of this painting is akin to trying to catch a glimpse of a famous rockstar doing a signing at some small record store. As much as I wanted to get up close to see the Mona Lisa, I eventually gave up. Instead I channelled my energies into immersing myself into the nearby epic painting entitled The Cornation Of The Virgin by the Italian master Tintoretto.

But why is the Mona Lisa the most iconic painting in the world? Firstly its provonence. Since it was completed in 1519, it has been in the hands of French kings and emperors before finally settling in the Louvre. The genesis though of its current global popularity can be traced back to an 1867 essay on Leonardo by the English essayist and art critic Walter Pater where he dissected and wrote very passionately and poetically about the Mona Lisa (or La Gionconda as it was known back then). Pater’s essay is not only one of the most famous essays on any single piece of art, at the time it was seen as quite groundbreaking especially since art criticism was a fairly new concept back then. Since then the painting has been caught in the crossfire of a series of high profile events. In 1911 it was stolen from the Louvre. Picasso and his friend the French poet Guillaume Appolinaire (who once demanded that the Louvre be ‘burnt down’) were seen as two potential suspects. Eventually the thief was revealed to be a Louvre employee at the time, Vincenzo Peruggia. In 1956, part of the painting was destroyed when someone hurled acid at it. Then it was vandalised again in 1974 when a woman sprayed red paint on it. The painting is now kept behind bullet proof glass as can be seen in the photo above this post.

The painting has also been appropriated by other artists. Most famously by the father of conceptual art, Marcel Duchamp, who added a mustache to the painting in his 1919 piece ‘L.H.O.O.Q’. Later famous artists like Salvador Dali and Andy Warhol have also appropriated the painting in their work.

The truth is that the Mona Lisa has the greatest legacy out of any other single work of art ever created hence the unprecedented fascination in it. This painting would go for a whopping sum of money if it were ever released on the open market at auction in either Sotherby’s or Christies. The record paid so far for a single work of art to date is $300 million in September 2015 for the painting ‘Interchange’ by the abstract expressionist painter Willem de Kooning. I predict that if the Mona Lisa were ever auctioned (perish the thought) it would breach the billion dollar mark. It is that important and as a financial ‘security’ or ‘instrument’; tremendously desirable.

As for me, I like Da Vinci’s work but I’ve always been more interested in his mind, his ideas and ways of working than the actual finished pieces of art. His sensitivity to nature and the world as well his acute understanding of the anatomy of the human body have always impressed me.

His thinking was incredibly ahead of his time. His dreaming and vision had no boundaries. I love his sketches. Some of his skeches contain many of his inventions – one looking like a modern day helicopter. Incredible to think that these were concocted over half a millennium ago.

by Nicholas Peart

22nd September 2016

(Self) Knowledge Is Power

Posted on September 4, 2016September 4, 2016 by Nicholas Peart

Not all knowledge (image source: http://www.leahsblessings.com)

All my life I have always been curious and even if I may not have always come across as the quintessential person with a lust for life always oozing bucketloads of positive energy, I have always been greedy for experiences and knowledge. I have retained much of my curiosity since day one but what about the root of my thirst for knowledge? Well I suppose it goes hand in hand with my curiosity and a mind traditionally never still and corrupted by ferocious restlessness and obsessions. When I was growing up in the 80s and part of the 90s before the internet entered our homes, I used to pester my mum relentlessly to purchase for me an encyclopaedia whenever we were shopping in town. By the time I was about 10 I had about 5 different encyclopaedias. Anybody remember Dean Tell Me The Answer? I had one of those bad boys. Before my profound interest in music entered my life when I was 12, studying my encyclopaedias, painting, tennis and collecting precious stones occupied most of my leisure time. No aimless Facebook and YouTube video trawling. I even once created my own encyclopaedia which I entered for a school competition and won the grand first prize of three English pounds.

From the age of 12 to 19 music almost had the monopoly on my total interests and I lapped up so much of it new and old; more than my brain could handle. Then at university I had a good friend who got me interested in good quality films and then a year later I became interested in literature. Even though I was taught certain literature at school, I was seldom interested or inspired by what I was taught.

Yet the big quantum leap in my thirst for knowledge began ten years ago at the age of 23 when I travelled by myself to Morocco for two weeks. That trip was the catalyst for a life long interest in travelling and exploring the world. I have spent so much of my time since then travelling and learning about different countries and cultures. My knowledge and understanding of the world was so much more myopic before my interest in travelling began.

However these last few years I have begun to question the concept of knowledge and what it means. For too long I arrogantly took to my bosom the phrase that ‘Knowledge Is Power’. Now whenever I see this quote in public places, I feel so inclined to brandish one of those spray cans and to add the word ‘Self’ before the word ‘Knowledge’. I have acquired all this bountiful knowledge but what use is it when my level of self-knowledge is next to zero? I had spent so much of my time looking out but how much had I really spent looking in. I liked to think that I was this deep person but deep down (no pun!) I was kidding myself. There’s this well known cliche about travelling to find yourself, yet I’d been travelling in many ways because I was afraid of myself and dealing with reality and society. I had learnt so much about many different countries, their histories and cultures and even though I had zig zagged across enormous swathes of the world I could seldom bring myself to search and explore myself. It is interesting how after a long time abroad, many travellers return to their home countries feeling lost, confused, depressed and out of synch with the rhythm and flow of their external environment. I believe most of the root of this is the great disconnection within themselves. I don’t believe it’s just because of their home countries being so different to the countries they visit. If you truly know yourself, you by extension are able to understand better other people regardless of their position in society: whether they are accountants, magicians, lawyers, painters, computer programmers, musicians, billionaires or beggars – this doesn’t matter. If you barely know yourself you will struggle to see beneath the facade of others. You will always become affected and a slave to other people’s behaviour: perhaps many times playing the victim role as opposed to taking more responsibility of your life.

Yet the journey in getting to know yourself is no pleasure cruise. Especially if you are always in constant fear of yourself. Yet this fear can be transcended. With the guidance of a good therapist or healer (preferably someone who has experienced all these challenges and overcame them) then this journey can truly begin. But they can only be your guide or facilitator. They cannot be a rescuer or saviour – there can be no dependence as with dependence there can be no true awakening.

By Nicholas Peart

4th September 2016

Remembering The Great Fire Of London

Posted on September 2, 2016 by Nicholas Peart

The Great Fire (image source: http://www.museumoflondon.org.uk)

Today marks the 350th Anniversary of the Great Fire Of London. To recognise this the Museum of London currently has on display until April 2017 an excellent temporary exhibition. As well as a wealth of information, there are also original artefacts on show like the original leather buckets and fire squirt pipes residents used to stop the fire as well as some of the possessions affected residents tried to salvage from their burning homes.

Only a year before the Fire, London was devastated by the Great Plague of 1665 which killed 100,000 people (a fifth of the city’s population). There are a few reasons why the fire had the devastating impact it had. Firstly, most of the buildings of the city of London back then were made out of timber. The city at the time also didn’t have the proper facilities to reduce the fire. There were certainly no fire brigades and sadly one of the only ways to effectively put out the fires was to tear down many of the wooden houses to prevent the fires from spreading further. It had also been a very dry and hot summer and combined with a strong wind from the east, those initial small flames began to spread to almost all of the city of London.

The fire began very early one morning on Sunday 2nd September 1666 at a bakery on Pudding Lane close to London Bridge. The mayor of London at the time, Sir Thomas Bludworth, two hours after the fire didn’t take it seriously and was reported to have said, ‘Pish! A woman might piss it out’. Later in the morning the great London diarist of the time, Samuel Pepys, told the King in Whitehall ‘that unless his majesty did command houses to be pulled down nothing could stop the fire’. By the evening the fire had already grown half a mile wide enveloping great parts of the city.

A portrait of the 17th century MP Samuel Pepys who witnessed the Great Fire and wrote about it in his famous diary (image source: http://www.twitter.com)

Most of the residents of London were ill-equipped to deal with the fire. Most of the methods the residents used were ineffective. Water carried in heavy leather buckets and fire squirts were used to try and reduce the fire, but with little to no success. It was, however, Charles II and his brother James who established firefighting bases around the city on the morning of the next day on Monday 3rd September 1666 to tackle the fire. It seemed that Samuel Pepys was indeed right when he said that the only way to reduce the fire was to pull down many of the wooden houses. By doing this not only was the fire prevented from spreading further, it also created gaps between the rows of wooden houses which the flames couldn’t cross. The first major casualty of the day were the printers of the London Gazette which earlier in the day printed the news that ‘a sudden and lamentable fire’ is burning down London.

On Tuesday the next day, the fire has engulfed even greater parts of the city. By 6am, one of the most important streets of the city of London, Cheapside, began to burn. When night fell, gunpowder was used to blow up houses to prevent the fire from reaching the Tower Of London. Around 8pm, the fire had burnt large parts of St Paul’s Cathedral. Fortunately, as the night progressed, much of the wind began to die down and by the morning of Wednesday 5th September, most of the fire had been eradicated.

The fire had left many residents homeless. More than 13,000 houses, 87 churches and 436 acres of the city were in ruins. It had also created a great housing shortage and rents for the properties unaffected by the fire were extortionate. Whilst residents were fleeing their homes they also tried to scavenge many of their possessions. Money, musical instruments, pets and Parmesan cheese were some of the things residents tried to save. Some unscrupulous carters helping residents to save and transport their stuff made a killing with some charging residents £20 (£3000 today) to hire their carts. Samuel Pepys was one of the fortunate few who’s house was unaffected by the fire. He also protected his Parmesan cheese and wine from the fire by burying them in his garden.

The architect Sir Christopher Wren who was responsible for rebuilding the city of London (image source: http://www.britannica.com)

The principle person involved in rebuilding London was the great architect Sir Christopher Wren who redesigned St Paul’s Cathedral and many other churches and buildings affected by the fire. All new homes, churches and buildings were made with brick instead of wood in order to be able to withstand future fires. Few original relics (one example being the Tower of London) of London before the Great Fire remain and in many ways the year zero of the London that one sees today is the London of Christopher Wren.

by Nicholas Peart

2nd September 2016

Ten Good Places To Eat On The Cheap In London

Posted on August 29, 2016March 15, 2025 by Nicholas Peart

Being a seasoned traveller myself I know how important it is to watch the coins. And in a city such as London this is especially true. Which is why I’ve decided to share with you all some decent places to eat on a shoestring in this city. Of course one can essentially pick any place that is cheap and there is no shortage of cheap chain eateries like McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, Wasabi, Eat, Subway etc where cheap meals can be acquired for a few quid. Most of the eateries listed below are small independent eateries in London which I think are good value for money offering decent food at low prices. I also try to include a few cheapies which offer an authentic experience of a London that is sadly disappearing.

1. Damascu Bite

Image source: yelp.co.uk

This small Syrian takeaway within spitting distance of Shoreditch High Street station and by Brick Lane in the East End of London does delicious and generous authentic lamb shawarmas using high quality and very tender lamb. A large ample lamb shawarma will set you back only £5.50 whilst a medium sized one about a pound less. This is a hell of a deal. Kebab eateries are ten a penny in London Town but what makes this place unique is that it actually cares about what it sells its customers. Most kebab places just use very cheap processed meat which I wouldn’t even give to my dog. This eatery aside, the best places in London to go for authentic, cheap and tasty kebabs are Edgware Road and Harringay Green Lanes.

2. Franco Manca

franco_manca_pizza_restaurant_soho_london

Image source: streetsensation.co.uk

This excellent pizza chain is ever expanding but unlike other chains this is a good one which does excellent, cheap and tasty pizzas using sourbread dough. This place has been a roaring success and there are now several Franco Manca restaurants scattered across the city. I usually go to the one located on Berwick Street in Soho just off Oxford Street. You will struggle to find equally delicious pizzas for less than £7 in this city.

3. Saravana Bhavan

hcmp4015_237619

Image source: happycow.net

This Indian restaurant chain serves excellent and authentic South Indian food in generous portions. I especially love the Masala Dosas which are very large and are served on big metal trays with four or five different sauce condiments. What’s more it will only set you back around £3.75. The thalis are delicious too and highly recommended. There are a few of these restaurants scattered around London though sadly there are none which are centrally located. I usually go to the one in Tooting which is located in South London. Tooting is famous for its curry houses and Asian eateries yet this place is one of the best and terrific value for money.

4. Fryers Delight

fryersfront

Image source: londonlist.com

More for novelty value than a place to go for regular nourishing food, but if you want to sample original London fish and chips like its 1964 in an authentic environment far away from the trappings of globalisation and the modern world, this place is a dead cert. This fish and chips restaurant located on Theobalds Road in Holborn in central London is very much a solid remaining relic of Old London and much of the loyal clientele are locals. For atmosphere this place is one of the best and the tasty battered haddock or cod and chips comes in generous portions around the £7 mark (cheaper if you take away). Other snacks like savaloys (oi oi!!) and mushy peas are also available.

5. Beigel Bake

Beigel_Bake_front

Image source: http://www.wikipedia.org

Like Fryers, this supremely popular and legendary 24 hour bagel shop located on Brick Lane is an indestructible relic of Old London with prices that haven’t been adjusted for inflation since about 1979. Whenever I come here I almost always go for the salmon and cream cheese bagel for £1.60. The sweet treats are also very good. You can get a slice of apple strudel or cheese cake for slightly north of the pound mark. Ironically, the most expensive item, the salt beef bagel, is the nemesis of the offerings of this place and is truly rank beyond belief; keep clear.

6. La Porchetta Pollo Bar

Image source: http://www.flickr.com

Continuing on our journey of old London eateries, the Pollo bar is a good and cheap no nonsense Italian restaurant located on Old Compton Street in the heart of Soho in central London. Like nearby Franco Manca, this is a great place to go for a cheap Italian dinner. Unlike Franco Manca, this place has history. This restaurant was a favourite of the original Pink Floyd frontman Syd Barrett during the 1960s.

7. Wong Kei

Image source: http://www.zomato.com

Wong Kei for a long time had the unique reputation of being the restaurant in London with the rudest staff. However since 2014 and a change of management, I read that much of this rudeness has sadly evaporated – but this can be resurrected if you try! This is still very much a cheap and authentic multiple storey Chinese diner located on Wardour street on the edge of Chinatown which serves a wide range of decent Chinese dishes with a complementary metal pot of green tea for around the £6-7 mark. When I recently came here for a meal I fortunately encountered some brusqueness. I am not very good at making decisions and as I spent a long time trying to find somewhere to sit with my own space I could see that the waiters were getting pissed off with me (a great start!!). ‘You gonnah eat here or wah?!’ snapped one of the waiters. I hit pay dirt and in surprisingly little time. I could’ve remained indecisive on where to sit and have taken it further. A seat with my own space was soon made available and I made a dash for it. One of the waiters came with a dirty plastic menu which he smacked down on my table with no emotion and like he was trying to kill a mosquito. A pot of green tea was also brought to me with a similar level of grace and etiquette.
I ordered a hearty and tasty bowl of shredded duck, with loads of sprouts and other vegetables with noodles, which (with the green tea) came to £6.90.
I think if you want to experience the apex of rudeness and brusqueness at this place, the best time to come here is after a night out around 2-4am when this place gets packed and you may only have a limited amount of time to finish your food to make way for the queues of other late night eaters.

8. Indian Veg

Image source: http://cubaninlondon.blogspot.com

This is a solid Indian vegetarian buffet restaurant for under £7 a head located off Chapel Market in Islington close to Angel tube station. The decor is nothing to write home about and all the endless articles and slogans preaching the virtues of a veg diet plastered on every area of space are enough to give anyone unnecessary vertigo. Yet I also find the whole thing quite comical. I try to sit away from the massive murial-like article showing the gradual deterioration of someone on a meat diet from their 20s until their 60s. This aside, I like the food here. The buffet contains a decent selection of potato, veg and tofu carries with chick pea, pakora and onion bhaji trays and a tray of good quality rice. In addition there are a few good salad selections to prevent the whole buffet from being too much of a starch fest. Recommended

9. Sonargaon

Image source: http://www.zomato.com

This is an unpretentious and underrated Bangladeshi buffet restaurant located on the quieter end of Brick Lane. Sonargaon gets unfairly bad reviews which for the most part it doesn’t deserve. Yet this is not a place to go to if you are focused on clean eating. Many of the curry dish trays are high in industrial level quantities of clarified butter and cheap refined oils. If you are sensitive to MSG, perhaps this is not the place for you. On the other hand, if you want unlimited quantities of filling South Asian fare for under eight quid this is a great place. What’s more, it has none of the tourist trappings of the plethora of other curry houses located on Brick Lane. Many of the clientele are locals and after Ramadan you could be mistaken for being in a busy restaurant in downtown Dhaka.

10. Fresco

Image source: http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk

I was going to list Maoz, a wonderful little Middle Eastern eatery located on Old Compton Street which serves hearty, healthy and delicious falafels with lashings of humus and mountains of fresh salads for just a few coins. Sadly it has recently closed down and has been replaced by some trendy ice tea bar. As a consequence I’ve had to look elsewhere and it gives me great pleasure to have stumbled upon this little gem of an eatery located on Westbourne Grove close to Notting Hill Gate. This is an excellent Lebanese restaurant which serves very tasty falafel wraps with delicious homemade hummus and a selection of excellent homemade salads. I ordered the Falafel Wrap Special which contains well made falafel balls, hummus and a delicious spinach and pomegranate salad. And for less than a fiver. This is an excellent deal.

by Nicholas Peart

29th August 2016

Embracing Sensitivity

Posted on July 31, 2016May 4, 2018 by Nicholas Peart

Soap ball

I am a very sensitive person. That is who I am. But sometimes I felt that this was not accepted by others. I would hear some say, ‘you are too sensitive’ or ‘stop being so sensitive’. Perhaps this comes from people wanting you to conform more to their standards of who they want you to be. And when you display characteristics or behaviour which goes beyond the boundaries of who they want you to be, this creates problems. I know this from experience. There are people, for example, who I love and who have certain traits and characteristics which make me love them even more. But then they may also display traits which I don’t . For example this person might be too loud, brash and opinionated. Here though, it is me with the problem and not this person, since I cannot accept those traits. I cannot accept that these traits are a part of who this person is and it is me who is in fact creating new problems for myself. With a greater level of awareness, I would immediately realise that there is something that I need to work on, explore in greater depth and get to the root of.

So to get back to the issue of ‘being too sensitive’. You are very sensitive but this is fine. That is an important part of who you are. Those who say that you are too sensitive are unable to accept you for who you are. Perhaps because they cannot accept themselves and, looking into this more deeply, there may be a deep repression, frustration and disconnection within themselves. If you have this awareness, than the initial annoyance which you have towards the person telling you that you are too sensitive morphs into compassion. Think about this for a moment.

The writer Matt Haig has a chapter in his wonderful book Reasons To Stay Alive entitled ‘In praise of thin skins’ where he talks about being ‘thin skinned’ but saying that that is just the way he is. Instead of fighting it and being ashamed of it he accepts and embraces it saying that that is who he is. I find such an attitude very inspiring and also helpful. This is wise and healing advice to those trapped in doubt and confusion.

Below I am featuring a six minute video of the controversial Indian guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh’s take on sensitivity. Love him or hate him he explains sensitivity very eloquently in this video. All of us are born sensitive but we have much of our sensitivity knocked out of us sometimes by our parents who, for example, tell us to ‘stop crying’, by our environment at school and in our work environment. Much of our sensitivity (and, by extension, much of who we truly are) is compromised as we try to ‘fit in’ in this world.

In the wake of watching the video I begin to accept my sensitivity even more and realise that it is more of a gift (not meaning this in a conceited way) than something to be ashamed of and suppressed. What’s more, I realise that real sensitivity in this world is in short supply. There is most definitely a link between art and sensitivity. Picasso once famously said that every child is born an artist yet the real challenge is to remain an artist. Every child comes into this world an artist just as every child comes into this world a very sensitive being (as I stated earlier). Yet why do so many children have their creativity and sensitivity knocked out of them at an early age? This is mostly out of fear than the parents being ‘bad’ people. The parents are most likely already struggling and see security and certainty as the tools to keep their life trajectory very much on the smooth and well travelled road. They may also not really know themselves, but that is another area for probing another time. Forsaking the ten lane highway for some obscure and seldom trodden dirt track is a shot into the unknown and an extra dose of uncertainty and challenge in an already challenging world.

So be glad that you are a sensitive. If only there were more of us.

by Nicholas Peart

30th July 2016

Image: CC0 Creative Commons

The Eastern Food Bazaar

Posted on July 29, 2016March 15, 2025 by Nicholas Peart

In downtown Cape Town there is a magical food emporium serving tantalising eastern delights called the Eastern Food Bazaar. It is a culinary landmark and institution in this city. Of course a global city like Cape Town has an abundance of places to eat offering all kinds of different food from around the world. However there is no other restaurant in this city which can measure up to the epic sounds, sights, smells and special ambiance of the Eastern Food Bazaar. Entering this arena is like walking into Old Delhi sans hawkers. The handsome elaborately adorned dark wooden interior furnishings give the place a regal and palatial air. During lunch and dinner hours this place sometimes swells to levels over the acceptable maximum capacity threshold. Yet as uncomfortable as it may be during this time this is the best time to be here. You wait an age to get served but the food is always fresh and prepared right in front of you. What’s more, there’s something a tad sad about eating in an empty emporium not buzzing with life. The only other place I’ve been to on the African continent which can compare with this place is the legendary Dja El Fna square in the centre of Old Marrakech. When the sun goes down, that square comes alive with energy, music, delicious food and persistent touts.

Inside the EFB

Notice the exotic wooden interior designs

There are about seven food stalls inside where Tandoori food, dosas, shawarmas, Chinese food and even (very unEastern) pizzas can be found. I almost always bolt to the Madras Dosa House for a tasty and no nonsense masala dosa. For a few coins more, the Chicken Cheese Masala dosa is a real treat.

The Masala Dosa House Stand

If you have a sweet tooth, the Ice Cream parlour is an irresistible addition. The ice cream here is rich and creamy and just as good as the ice cream you’ll find in the finest Italian geleterias. Two scoops in a cup for R20 is a hell of a deal.

Divine (and cheap) ice cream

I love this place, but it’s dangerous since the more frequently I come to pig out here the higher the probability I’ll morph into Andy Fordham.

by Nicholas Peart

28th July 2016

Photographs from Soweto

Posted on July 21, 2016 by Nicholas Peart

During my time in Johannesburg, I visited the vast township of Soweto on two occasions. Soweto is located south west of the centre of Johannesburg (Soweto is in fact an abbreviation of South Western Townships). Notable landmarks include Desmond Tutu’s house, Nelson Mandela’s house where he lived from 1946 – 62, and the Orlando Towers.

The famous Soweto Uprising of 16th June 1976 began as a result of the government trying to enforce education in Afrikaans as opposed to in the native langauge of the people of Soweto. The death of a 13 year old boy called Hector Pieterson, who was shot by police aiming fire at protesting students, is seen as a symbol of struggle against the brutality of the Apartheid Regime. In many ways the Soweto Uprising was the catalyst for the eventual dismantling of apartheid.

Soweto is also home to South Africa’s largest stadium, the FNB Stadium, which is the homeground of both South Africa’s national football team and one of South Africa’s top football teams, the Kaizer Chiefs.

Below I am featuring some photographs I took during my time there.

Visiting a Soweto learning centre

Soweto children 1

Soweto children 2

Soweto children 3

Soweto residencies photo 1

Soweto residences photo 2

At the Hector Pieterson memorial and museum

Political party posters

On the side of a carton of Joburg beer

Necking some of that Joburg Beer which is very similar in taste to the traditional Zulu beer sorghum

Shebeen scene

Outside Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s house

Fans of Deliciously Ella rejoice! This is the choice of snack of many people who live in the townships in the Gauteng area. A Kota is a quarter loaf of white bread hollowed out and filled with chips and cheap processed meats like salami slices and Vienna sausages. For R12 it is all yours.

One of the Orlando towers

Outside the Apartheid Museum

by Nicholas Peart

20th July 2016

(Mis)Adventures In Zululand

Posted on July 12, 2016December 28, 2019 by Nicholas Peart

Zululand

From the Hippo Hide Lodge in the Berea district of Durban, I take a cab to Ulundi station where I find the white mini van taxi to the Zululand town of Eshowe 150kms north of Durban. Every available bit of space is utilised. I am squashed right in the back and my backpack finds a home pressed somewhere in the front seats. An excessively rotund Zulu woman sat next to me is munching on slices of white bread in one hand and a large cheap supermarket sausage in the other which she occasionally takes generous bites from. In her lap is an enormous bottle of some discount brand Cola. The journey is two hours but feels like 20 and I am happy when we leave the main highway and I spot a sign saying ‘Eshowe 23kms’

Downtown Eshowe

Arriving in Eshowe I stumble out of the bursting minivan like I’ve been kept hostage inside a kitchen cupboard and find myself in a clothes shop run by a friendly South African Indian and shielded away from the hawkers and mess outside as I try to fully understand my bearings and where on earth I am in relation to my chosen accommodation. There are no taxi drivers in sight and I don’t trust many of the hawkers. I see a respectable looking elderly local walking towards his Toyota. I abruptly approach him and blurt out that I need to go to the George Hotel in exchange for a few rands. He obliges and I lump all my crap in the back seats and off we go. It’s barely a few blocks away and I suppose I could have walked there. I decide not to stay at the George and instead have a punt on the adjacent Bishops Guest House. There are no rooms available but the owner Hazel says that I can stay with her friend. It is almost mid afternoon and I head to Vals Takeaway on the edge of town for a delicious, ample and much needed mutton biriani. Afterwards I visit Shoprite to buy a few groceries before heading back to the Bishops. Hazel’s partner Terry kindly drives me in his 4×4 to Hazel’s friend’s house. The house is an enormous bungalow with a large handsome drive and garden with exotic trees and plants. My room is in a separate small block on the grounds of the house. It is immaculate with a Queen size bed, TV and private ensuite bathroom. A very good deal for the price.

The next day I go for a walk around Eshowe. Outside of the city centre it really is a very pretty place in the heart of Zululand. I go for a walk to visit Fort Nongqayi. Inside the fort I am greeted by a young Zulu man named Zano. He is a very intelligent, articulate and entertaining guide. His English is excellent. We visit the white church founded by Norwegian missionaries before entering the fort. Inside the fort are Zulu related displays and artefacts. The section of the fort dedicated to John Dunn (a legendary 19th century white Zulu businessman and sex machine) piques my curiosity but history aside it was being with Zano which really made my day. When he mentioned that his favourite writer was Charles Bukowski I thought I was hallucinating. Very quickly my attention turned away from Zulu history and culture and straight to Bukowski and how in Zululand of all places with my Zulu compadre Zano we’d be discussing him – this beautifully fucked up damaged poetic skid row bum in staunchly conservative Zululand. 20kms away from Nkandla and Jacob Zuma’s massive homestead. Zano told me that many of his friends were also into Bukowski – ‘that man speaks the truth!’ Zano would say.

Fort Nongqayi

When we parted ways I payed a visit to the Vukani Zulu Cultural Museum which has a wealth of notable and important Zulu arts and crafts. There are beautiful and elaborately patterned handwoven baskets and pottery artefacts including several pottery pieces by the noted Zulu artist Nesta Nala and her children.

Vukani Zulu Cultural Museum

Pottery works by the Zulu artist Nesta Nala

In the evening I relax in the library of the George Hotel which has an adequate Internet connection. I decide that I will visit Shakaland the following day. It’s a Disneyfied like adventure park reenacting traditional 19th century Zulu culture. It was originally created for the highly succesful television series Shaka-Zulu. Unfortunately I don’t have my own transportation and getting to Shakaland or almost any other place in Zululand without it is very difficult. Fortunately a lady named Leanne from the George Hotel kindly offers to drive me there and back the next day.

Inside the library of the George Hotel

For some irrational reason I decide to spend this evening at one of the cheaper outside rooms of the George Hotel in a stupid plan to save money. For the sake of a few rand I ditch Eden for some decrepit beatnik hotel in a seedy part of Tanger in the 1950s. My room has a perpetual pungent oder of fresh paint. I can see that my room is a former wreck which has been tarted up superficially to make it look neat and presentable. My room is the epitome of the phrase ‘polishing a turd’ and it sure as shit ain’t worth what I paid for it. Loud building work outside my room comences in earnest at 7am; not that any of this matters. I’ve been struggling to achieve a modicum of decent kip ever since 11pm. The last few days have been a mess of insomnia. I go to the mirror and my face from just a few days ago has morphed into Shane McGowen’s. Nevertheless I am all ready for Shakaland.

Shakaland

Shakaland is ridiculous. I am not exactly Wilfred Thiesger or Richard Burton and am very much the clumsy albeit curious Gringo with his two words of Zulu under his belt. When I arrive I am the only tourist there and so I get a private tour of the grounds. I drink the infamous sorghum Zulu beer from a big wooden spoon and fool around with a large King Shaka spear like I am in Falaraki on some last minute cheap package weekend bender – not exactly warrior material. I mean put me in a time machine and plop me in the Blood River battle of 1838 I would have more than let the team down. Andries Pretorius would have given me the whipping of my life for my incompetence and tomfoolery. Later I am joined by more visitors; a Belgian couple and a group of visitors from Pretoria. We watch an impeccable performance of Zulu dances. At one point I decide to join in and add some very un-Zulu moves; like a cross between between King Cetshewayo on PCP and Bez of the Happy Mondays. Then we all have some locally made food at the Shakaland restaurant.

Drinking traditional Zulu beer

Shakaland shenanegans

Trying (pushing) my luck with traditional Zulu dancing

Back in Eshowe, I sensibly decide to return to Eden and my Queen size bed. I sleep well and wake up at 6.30am the next day feeling well rested. Yet my mood changes when I turn on the TV and the long awaited result of the EU referendum in the UK has already been announced. For two hours I flip between all the diferent news channels lost in confusion. Fortunately a sane part of my brain does the right thing and propels me out of my room and away from the TV. Besides I had booked a tour for today with a local guide to visit his village and home and perhaps visit his family and a local school. Sadly my original guide had fallen ill and the only option available was a guy named Walter. The lady at the George warned me that he could be ‘erratic’ and may hustle me for more money at the end of tour. But I was assured that he was completely harmless, just a very naughty boy.

Big pimping; Walter and I

Seeing Walter for the first time I become hesitant, anxious and uncertain. My mind harks back to my Moroccan guide Mohammad who accompanied me and a few friends on a three day expedition in the Atlas Mountains ten years ago. He was a never ending liability and even had the temerity to ask for a 200 Dirham ‘customary’ tip at the end. Walter is four parts Rick James, three parts Jacob Zuma, two parts Shaft and one part Lee Scratch Perry. Nevertheless I knew that we would have lots of fun and (erratic) adventures. Walter is wearing a silk red shirt and an ostentatious pair of pimping sun glasses. He’s dressed up more for a night out on the tiles on Florida road in Durban than a visit to a traditional Zulu village. He keeps insisting that he is 83 and has the energy of a bull. What remains unclear is how we are going to get to his village. I don’t have a car and after having told him about ten times he keeps asking me where my car is. The lady at the George who organised the tour says that we would be able to get to his village via public transport but I am forever doubtful. After much unnecessary stressing I realise that the best move is to simply go with the proverbial flow and just glide with the movements of Walter. Getting angry or upset is a fools game. In fact, in a perverse kind of way, I prefer to be with Walter than the other more reliable and trusted guide; it would have been all too predictable. Here there is no compass.

Rockin’ Zululand

We walk towards Eshowe town and for all I know we may as well be heading to a few shebeens or gambling houses than sticking to our original plan of visiting his village. As we pass Shoprite, Walter raises his right hand and an old truck slows down. Walter motions for me to get in and off we drive to what I am guessing is his village. Soon we leave the main paved roads and drive on to a dirt road up a hill and towards his home. There are four semi modern huts at his place with red tin corrugated roofs. I am introduced to some of his family and I use my two words of Zulu; sawabona and injani (which mean ‘hello’ and ‘how are you?’ respectively).

At Walter’s abode

Leaving his home we walk towards a local school. The day is getting hot and I regret not bringing a bottle of water. When we approach the school it is closed. Walter suggests we keep on walking. During our walk we pass by numerous local village folk and Walter insists on photo opportunities every time we meet passing villagers. We bump into a young sangoma apprentice. Walter wants to take a photo of me with the boy using my iPhone. I don’t object. When he hands me back my phone I see that he has taken 22 photos. I will do all the editing when I return to Eshowe later. I don’t know where we are going. After a while I get so exhausted and feel like we’ve galivanted throughout all of Zululand. At one interval he points to a hut in the distance on top of a hill. He tells me that’s where his friend lives and wants us to go there. I faint at the distance but Walter knows of a shortcut. We ditch the path and climb up the hill gripping onto rocks and miscellaneous roots and vegetation. Halfway up the hill I nearly loose my balance but claw my right fingers into the ground earth to prevent myself from falling back to the start. Walter on the other hand is going up the hill like some son of a gun trooper; like a modern day King Shaka. When we enter his friend’s modest abode which has a sparkling name brand fridge and plasma TV inside, we are both rewarded with a cup of clean water which he scoops into the cups from a large open blue tank of water in the corner of the living room.

With some local Zulu village folk

Leaving his friend’s place we head back towards Walter’s house. All the time on the way there he keeps pointing to his house in the distance, like it’s one of the seven wonders of world. When we return to his house, a member of his family prepares a meal for us of chicken and vegetable stew and a lifetime supply of pap. After our meal, Walter hands me a battered notebook which contains testimonials from travellers all around the world. There are also letters. One is from a French couple from Piotiers dating back to 1998 and the other from a Dutch lady from Delft. Clearly all the travellers who crossed paths with Walter were won over by his unique charisma, energy and spontaneity. And so was I. It was a blessing in disguise that the other guide was ill. Although there was still one last problem. How the hell was I going to get back to Eshowe?

Walter offered to call me a cab or rather get one of his mates to pick me up and drive me back to my guesthouse. I accepted the R100 fare and so Walter and I walked from his house and to the side of the dirt road. On the way we pass by three gravestones. One is of his parents. By the edge of the road, Walter was joined by a friend brandishing a large bottle of Castle Chocolate Milk Stout. They share the bottle and offer me a swig which I decline. Then Walter’s friend lights up a prerolled doobie. My cab eventually arrives and I bid Walter farewell.

I stay one more day in Eshowe. The next day is a lazy and aimless day, although I do muster the energy to go for a walk to visit King Cetashowe’s memorial site further outside of town. At the end of the road just after the site I am rewarded with one of the most spectacular vistas of rural Zululand. It really was quite majestic.

Cetshwayo memorial

Before returning to Durban I order a Durban curry for lunch from the restaurant of the George Hotel. Whilst I am waiting for my food, I visit an outside bar on the grounds of the hotel called Pablo Esco Bar, so called since the owner has an uncontrollable obsession with the famous Colombian Drug Lord. I order a pint of Zulu Blond which is a local brew made by the owner and has even won a few awards. I like it. It’s a glorious day outside and despite a kind invitation from a local at the bar to go to a party at his house where a few local bands will be playing, I am all done with Zululand. My battered white collective mini van taxi awaits to take me back to Durban.

by Nicholas Peart

12th July 2016