A Tale of Two Hostels： London

According to some　website (the best place to get creditble inforation) The Radisson Edwardian in Heathrow has been voted the best airport hotel by some pack of snobs at some　point in time. I would have to concur- but as the premiere classe hotel is the only other I've stayed in that's probably not a large enough sample for such awards to be handed out.

So I had a lovely bed, a TV with lots of different stations, in more languages that just French, which had a personalised greeting message on the screen when I arrived. There was a bath, a desk AND a small table (so many places to sit!) and amusing things like a minibar, personal safe and steam press.

I had a burger for dinner and a glass of wine at the bistro, and another drink in the lounge bar afterwards, all of which cost me more than my average weekly food budget...

All in all it was a lovely experience, but considering it was about 3-5 times the amout I normally pay for accomodation,I don't think it's a lifestyle habit I'll be adopting any time soon.

A Tale of Two Hotels: Part One, Toulouse

Last night I stayed in the Premiere Classe Hotel near Toulouse airport. It was a two star affair, which had an ambiance somewhere between a cheep motel and a low security prison.

the check in was facilitated by a machine like a cashpoint. Each room had a double bed and a bunk cramed in, a TV without cable (unthinkable in Europe!) and a bathroom built like on in a caravan, where you shower right over the toilet.

Dinner was at Mc Donalds, and the morning wakeup call was an alarm set on the television.

There was a strip of fluro lighting to iluminate the room, and they're very thoughtfully put metal shutters on the windows to keep out the light and the prying eyes of other guests using the walkway.

And the bedspread was quite ugly.

Good and Bad

As though the route that I had to take from Brussels to get back to the south of France wasn't bad enough - the train that I was on from Lyon to Toulouse was over crowded, so I sat in the large luggage rack. Then, 20 minutes into the journey, our train was involved in an accident, and so we were stuck o the tracks for two hours. Luckily it wasn't a Russian train, so we could still use the toilet while we were stopped.

But after all the drama and mayhem, I have made it back to the same little pocket of France where I was a few weeks ago. It's another anonymous little town, but this one has a better bakery. The weather is quite mild, and the vines that were lovely and green last time are now a riot of reds, browns, yellows, purples and browns.

Also, my parents have been very busy in my absence - they've decided to buy a house in this sleepy little village. A great big old place full of dust and peeling wall paper and lovely furniture. So although I'm only here for a week now, I feel that I'll be spending much more time in this area in the years to come.

London Town

London has been turning on all her charm for Claire and I - and by charm, I mean rain - but that has not stopped us having a lovely weekend. Having both visited here before, and therefore being free of the imperative of sightseeing, we have taken a more leisurely itinerary.

We spent a morning at Camden markets, an afternoon trawling the second-hand book dealers along Charing Cross Road, and managed a visit to Brick Lane for curry, Harrods for tea (actually, chocolate milkshakes, but they were divine) and a late-night jaunt to my favourite bagel shop, which I was very happy to find has not changed a jot in the last five years (including the prices...).

Apart from all of the pleasantness above, we were also treated to a special wake up at our hostel this morning from London's finest. Someone had apparently reported a 'woman in distress' in the hostel and the police decided to door knock each room at seven in the morning in an attempt to find said woman. It was almost like being in The Bill (but without the explosions and workplace sexual tension).

Tonight Claire is heading off to Oxford, and I'm catching an overnight ferry to The Netherlands for the start of my Benelux week (Benelux being Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg). There'll be plenty of sightseeing, plus a special nerd excursion on Tuesday. So expect a week of postings on chocolate, hot chips, beer and... psycholinguistics!

A Spot of Baking

The loveliest thing about staying in a house, as opposed to the hostels and low low budged hotels that I usually stay in, is the ready access to a functioning, moderately clean kitchen. So yesterday I got a bit baking happy, with various degrees of success.

Item the first: Banana Cake

We had some bananas that were going brown and some almond meal that the last people had left, so we made a flourless banana cake and ate it warm with creme fraiche.

If you noticed on the last post, I currently have access to a digital camera, a computer and snap happy parents. Mum got a photo of the cake so I'll post it later. It looked ugly but tasted delicious.

Item the second: Parma Veggo Style

Again, a product of the dregs of our larder. i fried up thin slices of eggplant, then put cheese and pesto on them and popped the lot in the oven. Super tasty, if I say so myself. We were totally on a roll for the day.

Item the third: Roasted Chestnuts

Mum and I waited for darkness to fall so we could steal some figs from our neighbours tree, seems they were just letting them rot and fall. While out we also picked up a whole heap of chestnuts from the read and thought we'd have a crack at roasting them.

We popped a tray of them in the oven and went back to sitting around. About 20 minutes later there was an Almighty bang, as one of them exploded like a rifle shot in the oven. we opened the oven and another two exploded - disintegrating into shell fragments and white chestnut powder - both to be now found scattered around out lounge area.

We placed the tray of volatile nuts outside and went back to try them later. The best explanation I can give of their taste is that they taste like the odour to be found in large metropolitan subway systems, but a bit more buttery.

So, on the whole that's about a 2/3 success rate for a day of cooking. Today we're off for an excursion to Spain.

Under The (Mongolian) Weather

We're spent the last couple of nights living in a traditional Mongolian ger (tent-like structure) - the scenery was breath-taking, and the air was breath-able, which is a nice change after smoggy China.

While at the ger we went horse riding, visited a nomad family at their ger, ate some interesting dairy products and made the most of the lovely views.

Unfortunately I'm feeling a bit crook today - early diagnosis was a hangover, but I think it may be a bit more lingering. We have an overnight train to Russia this evening so hopefully a good sleep will make me a bit more lucid and descriptive for my first blog from Russia.