Food in North Korea

There is not much point in reviewing individual restaurants in North Korea, as visitors have no opportunity to go out and try a restaurant of their own choice.  Tours are fully escorted, and visitors will be taken to a specific restaurant for a set meal.

Royal Banquet

Although is relatively little choice over the food provided, most meals take the form of a variety of small dishes, so you can to some extent choose what you actually eat, and it was generally very tasty. The selection generally includes some form of soup, vegetables, fish, meat, hard-boiled eggs or omelette, as well as the ubiquitous kimchi (spicy pickled cabbage.)  Meals like this were provided at both lunch and dinner, which is rather more than I would usually eat in a day. In Kaesong we had a rather more elaborate version of the set meal, described as a royal banquet. 

The only actual menu choice we had was ‘rice or noodle’ for the filler provided at the end of the meal.  The noodles were Pyongyang cold noodles – a large bowl containing a tight knot of pre-cooked buckwheat noodles in cold water, with a garnish of a slice of meat and hard boiled egg.  You go in with your chopsticks and tease the noodles apart, adding spicy sauce to taste.  We tried these on our first night, but preferred the rice, which comes studded with small cubes of meat and vegetables. After we had both chosen rice at two successive meals, we were not offered noodles again.

A couple of times we ate in the KITC restaurant in Pyongyang  where the selection of dishes included cooked sausage and strips of potato in a batter, meaning that it was technically possible to have North Korean version of the great British ‘sausage, egg and chips.’  

Variations on the standard set meal are barbecue, where you cook your own slices of meat (pork, beef and octopus or squid) on a hotplate over a brazier, and hotpot, where you boil sliced meat, vegetables and egg in a pot at the table.  We had barbecue on our first night and a special duck barbecue on our last night. We also had hotpot on one occasion, and on New Year’s Eve, as a special treat, we had a small pizza alongside the other dishes.

I felt guilty that we were fed so much better than the average North Korean.

Doha: a city under siege?

View of West Bay, Doha

The local newspaper gives a count of the number of days the ‘siege’ has lasted, but in truth Doha does not feel like a city under siege. It is far more of a city under construction. Everywhere are building sites, and the road layout can change overnight.

The so-called ‘siege’ began during Ramadan, when Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, and Egypt cut off diplomatic relations and imposed trade and travel bans, citing allegations of support for terrorism.  Qatar now imports vegetables from Iran and dairy products from Turkey. But aside from the supermarket translations from Turkish, the only noticeable signs of the siege, or more properly, blockade, are the images of the Emir which are now sported on buildings and in car windows.

Museum of Islamic Art, Doha

Meanwhile, the building work continues.  There are stadiums to be built in readiness for the 2022 World Cup, and the futuristic National Museum of Qatar is taking shape. 

For now, visitors can enjoy the new Museum of Islamic Art: a shining white fortress on an artificial island by the old harbour. The galleries are ranged on three sides round a central atrium, with windows on the fourth side giving views of the skyscrapers in the West Bay area.  There are two floors of permanent exhibitions. On floor two, the galleries are organised thematically: introduction; the Figure in Art, Calligraphy, Patterns in Art and Science in Art. There are some beautiful items, carefully displayed, and it helps to pace yourself, so we paid a visit to the ground floor café before tackling the third floor galleries.  There is  ample seating and plenty of opportunities to enjoy the view. Back on the third floor, exhibits are  grouped chronologically and geographically:  Early Islamic Art (pre 12^th century); Iran and  Central Asia (12^th -14^th centuries); Egypt and Syria (12^th-14^th centuries); Egypt and Syria (14^th and 15^th centuries); Iran and Central Asia (15^th -16^th centuries); Iran (16^th-19^th century); India and Turkey (16^th -19^th century.)

The exhibits are fascinating, but overall there is little sense of provenance. Unlike most museums where items from particular sites are grouped together, many are not even identified as from a particular country, let along region or city. The overall sense is one of a ‘greatest hits’ album.

Courtyard of Radwani House

If you can bear to walk along the Corniche in the heat past the dhow harbour to the Pearl Monument, and cross the road (no easy feat – it can take 20 minutes for the lights to change) you can reach Souq Waqif, a restored traditional market and popular place for tourists to buy souvenirs. There are also restaurants and cafes to suit all tastes.

Beyond the Souq is the Msheireb District. This was one of the earliest parts of the city to be developed, with the first bank, the first pharmacy and the first hotel. The area declined as the rest of the city developed but it is now being redeveloped on environmentally friendly lines with pedestrian friendly streets and cycleways. Four of the traditional houses have been restored to form the Msheireb Museums.

Each house has a different theme, but the displays are very modern and interactive.

The Bin Jelmood House tells the history of slavery from the ancient world to modern slavery.

Company House was once the headquarters of Qatar’s first oil company. Initially Qatar’s main export industry was pearl fishing. Fortunately the decline in fortunes brought about by the introduction of cultured pearls was soon followed by the discovery of oil. The displays and a short film tell the story of the oil company and its workers.

Mohammed Bin Jassim House tells the history of Doha and the Msheireb district in particular, including visions for the future.

Where Company House and Mohammed Bin Jassim House give a corporate and public view of Qatari life, Radwani House takes a more personal approach, providing an insight into the transformation of domestic family life.

Together, the houses provide a much needed local counterpoint to the pan-Islamic collections on the Museum of Islamic Art.  I would love to return when the National Museum finally opens.

Travelling Slowly

Turville, Buckinghamshire

Together with my husband (the Womble/Wombat fan) I have been commissioned to write a Slow Guide to the Chilterns and Thames Valley for Bradt and am busy with researching that.

As we live more or less in the middle of the Chilterns, nowhere in the guide is more than an hour or so away from home, but it's surprising how much we are discovering.  Buckingham is my new favourite place.

We have a separate blog for this project - take a look at it here.

Madame Cholet

One of the advantages of the Womble project we undertook a few years ago was that it took  us to some parts of the world we might otherwise never have visited.  Cholet is a case in point.

Cholet is a fairly small town in western France, whose two main claims to fame are as the scene of a battle during the Vendee revolt of 1793 and as former centre for the manufacture of textiles, and handkerchiefs in particular. Whilst handkerchief production is no longer carried out on a commercial basis, the town’s heritage is celebrated in the Textile Museum, which is located in a former canvas bleaching factory (built in 1881). There are rooms dealing with the various stages of textile production: spinning, bleaching, weaving etc. and information about the Cholet handkerchief industry. The museum has revived handkerchief production in Cholet, and I understand that visitors can watch this taking place but the machines were not operating when we visited. The surrounding grounds are now a garden containing plants connected to the textile industry, such as flax, and marigolds which were used for for dyes.

One of the most striking things about Cholet was the quality of the floral displays. The flower beds outside the Hotel de Ville were quite spectacular. There are also attractive gardens, such as the Jardin du Mail, and lots of hanging baskets. We even saw a vending machine for bouquets.

As we were visiting in honour of Mme Cholet, we took a taxi from our hotel in Cholet to the nearby Ribou lake for the ‘festival of regional deliciousness’. The lake is actually a reservoir providing drinking water for the area so there are restrictions on activity in the area. By the lakeside are a hotel, a restaurant, a campsite, sailing club and tennis club.

The ‘festival of regional deliciousness’ was a sort of cross between a village fete and agricultural show. Despite an advertised start of 10.00 a.m. it was slow to get going. There were a few stalls with local produce (ice-cream; ostrich products from rillettes to painted eggs; cured sausage; caramels); some livestock including rabbits, ducks, geese, goats, pigs and a calf (no sheep); a stage with an extremely sophisticated sound system; and a pig roast (no less than 6 pigs on two spits). The pig roast meal cost €6.50 for which you got a plastic tray and helped yourself to green salad, white beans, coleslaw, pork, bread and yoghurt. We took one look and made for the lakeside restaurant where we had a delicious meal for €16.90 per head.

Returning to the event, we found that things had livened up. On stage a singer had given way to Cholet’s equivalent of Bruce Forsyth, who was circulating in the crowd with a low-rent version of ‘Play Your Cards Right’. If you correctly guessed either the colour of the next card or whether it was higher or lower you could win a rather cheap-looking card table mat.

Meanwhile, a patient donkey was being led around by a sadist with a bunch of carrots in his other hand. Affixed to the donkey’s back was a notice saying ‘My name is Katy2. Guess my weight and win’. It wasn’t clear whether you won Katy2 herself or one of the dodgy looking card mats (or even the leftover pig). We decided not to enter as Katy2 would certainly not have fitted in our ‘one item of hand baggage only’ with EasyJet.

Brush Up Your Shakespeare!

My current hobby (other than travel) is to see each of Shakespeare's plays performed, as the RSC is currently in a cycle of presenting them all. We live about an hour and a half drive away, so it makes a pleasant weekend outing to drive up on Saturday afternoon, book into a hotel, have something to eat and see the show.  

Royal Shakespeare Theatre

As an attractive and historic town I suppose that Stratford-upon-Avon would attract visitors even if it weren't for its literary connections, but the Shakespeare connection is certainly well to the fore. Even a local secondhand bookshop boasts a shelf of Shakespeare's works under the label 'local author'.

As it is a popular spot for tourists, Stratford, like Bath, York and Windsor, to name but three, has many tea rooms and gift shops aimed at the tourist market. Street entertainers are in evidence even in January. Despite that, it's definitely well worth visiting, but if you are from overseas, please don't be fooled into thinking it is typical of an English market town.

Obvious things to see whilst in Stratford include the various Shakespeare houses, but If all the Shakespearean culture gets too much, you can sit by the river and talk to the ducks, or take a boat ride. If you want to feed the ducks, you can buy duck food at the Tourist Information Centre for £1 - it's much better for the ducks than stale bread. 

If you are there on a Sunday during the summer, you may also have the opportunity to meet some owls at the Waterside Market.

For something completely different, try the MAD Museum. No, despite the name, this is not a museum about insanity. 'MAD' stands for 'Mechanical Art and Design.' The Museum was launched in 2012. Its website describes it as a showcase for 'the world’s finest pieces of Kinetic Art and Automata belonging to pioneering artists from all four corners of the globe.' That sounds rather highbrow, but the museum is actually a place full of strange gadgets and gizmos that move, light up, emit strange noises and are generally great fun to interact with. If Wallace from Wallace and Gromit were to design a museum, this would be it. One of the exhibits even uses kitchen utensils to transport small balls around. 'Garden Bear', a piece by Theo Kaccoufa, is made from steel rods and wire, brass, recycled tin cans, recycled card, nuts and bolts, MDF and an electric motor.

Visitors are able to interact with the exhibits by pressing buttons, turning handles (or even clapping), and although some of the pieces are serious works of art, it's a great place to take children who may be less enthralled with Stratford's literary connections.

Be aware though, that one or two of the exhibits are a bit creepy: there's a magician automaton doing a 'cup and ball' trick, which can be a little unnerving, and the 'Dartmoor Pony of the Apocalypse' is nightmarish.

But don't forget to go to the theatre! The experience of seeing an RSC production should not be missed. Tickets need not be all that expensive, particularly if you don't mind 'restricted view' (which means that you may not have a good view of part of the stage, but will quite possibly have a very good view of some of the action), or preview tickets. RSC tickets are much better value than London's West End.

For our weekend jaunts I’m a big fan of the Premier Inn. No frills, but the rooms are spacious and well-designed. The central one is closest the RSC. It has no on-site parking, but there is a large public multi-story a short walk away.  The Waterways branch is a longer walk through the town to the theatre, but has a pleasant setting by the canal, and on site (paid) parking, if you are lucky.  Slightly farther out, the Travelodge has reliable free parking and is close to an out of town  shopping complex, but is still within a 20-25 minute walk of the RSC. Sometimes I try other hotels.  Out of town, the New Inn at Clifford Chambers is good value.  For something slightly more upmarket, the MacDonald Swan’s Nest is just a short walk across the bridge from the RSC.

For pre-theatre dining, we like the Rooftop Restaurant at the RSC itself, or one of the numerous restaurants in nearby Sheep Street.  You really need to book for pre-theatre on a Saturday night, but if you have forgotten, Thespians (an Indian Restaurant) may be able to fit you in.  

(Not) Smarter than the Average...

Varenna

I wrote a while ago about how my favourite travel site, Virtual Tourist was being closed by its owners, Trip Advisor.  The email to members of that site notifying us of the closure, stated that "you’ll still be able to find all the great destination information we’ve amassed over the years plus much, much more atwww.SmarterTravel.com."

 Smarter Travel is a site which includes articles (a lot of which are fairly banal lists) from named writers and other content which is attributed to "Virtual Tourist."  The latter are accompanied by an editor's note which states that "the information contained on this page was compiled using real traveler reviews about London." It looks as though the compilation was done by a computer or an intern with no travel experience and little sense, as the said reviews have been severely mangled in the process.

Information on Things to To in London contains this gem:"Buckingham Palace is a grand place to visit with over 700 womens, 19 of which are open to the public." 

Others are so generic as to be useless, such as this "advice" on car parking in Varenna, Italy: "When you go to park in Varenna, it is imperative that you be aware of the parking that you will come across. While some parking areas are very inexpensive to park at, there are some that are fairly costly. You will want to check around with the locals to determine the cheapest places to park." Er, that could apply almost anywhere.

OK, so not all advice on Virtual Tourist was  up to date or great quality, but it was pretty easy to look up a destination and find good pages.  Smarter Travel has reduced that to a lowest common denominator of meaningless drivel. Sad! 

Just Like Norfolk (Almost)

This is an account of a visit to the Orinoco Delta in 2009 as part of our 'Womble Project'. It was not our usual sort of trip, but some of it was surprisingly familiar...

Orinoco Delta Lodge

We waited nervously on the jetty at Boca de Uracoa. Would the promised ‘motorised canoe’ arrive to pick us up, and if it did, would my suitcase fit in it? We were on our way to the Orinoco Delta Lodge and I was further out of my comfort zone than I had ever been.

However, what eventually arrived was not a canoe at all, but a motorboat, with Ales, our English-speaking guide.  As soon as we arrived at the Orinoco Delta Lodge I was back in my comfort zone as it seemed remarkably similar to a Hoseasons holiday camp on the Norfolk Broads, except that the cabins have open sides with mosquito nets and roofs made from moriche palm leaves. Our cabin turned out to be more on the Orinoco than by it, as it was on wooden stilts above the water.  It was also next door to the puma enclosure. Shortly after arrival we were served lunch, which turned out to be spaghetti bolognese. While we were eating, there was music playing from the PA system: The Birdie Song and a selection of Elton John.

We suddenly heard the unmistakeable squawk of a macaw – apparently the resident macaw, Rumba, had taken fright when an eagle arrived for lunch.  The eagle sat calmly in the rafters and waited for his lunch of chicken to defrost. That doesn’t often happen in Norfolk.

In the afternoon we had a boat ride with Ales and another newly arrived tourist, Marc, who was from Switzerland. I was surprised to find how fast the motorboats go.  No speed limits on the Orinoco, it seems (unlike the Norfolk Broads.) As they are open and there is no windscreen, conversation is impossible, hair is hopelessly messed up, and sunglasses are advisable, purely to act as goggles.

Ales pointed out the floating  bora reeds, which have purple flowers, and various birds. We stopped to watch the sunset and the daily flight of parrots across the river. They roost on one side, which is jungle, but spend the day on the other side, which is more open. Later, back at the camp we had a dinner of beef, followed by the inevitable watermelon, whilst the camp’s three dogs, two cats and two kittens wandered around, the cats in particular trying to wangle scraps from the table.

The animals at the camp were:

A large brown dog, known as ‘Doctor’ because he checked everyone was OK;

A black and white dog who kept an eye on all the other animals;

A smaller woolly white dog, who seemed to annoy the black and white one;

A large white and ginger cat, known as ‘Steve’ after Steve Jobs;

A black and white cat;

A black, white and ginger kitten;

A ginger kitten;

A blue and gold macaw called ‘Rumba’

A puma (kept in a fenced enclosure)

A large frog which visited in the evenings;

A crocodile (allegedly) which we didn’t see.

After a night’s sleep disturbed by howler monkeys, puma snores, barking dogs and cockerels who started greeting the day at 3.30 a.m. we took a boat to a more distant (and basic) camp. On the way we stopped to see a pink dolphin, and later to walk through a village.  The houses here were built of concrete, joined by wooden walkways.  Many of the houses had satellite dishes and washing machines. We sheltered from a rainstorm before continuing to the camp, where Ales introduced me to a baby crocodile. Marc and I joined our boatman and Ales for a paddle in a dugout canoe. My husband Neil inexplicably opted to stay on terra firma (‘to look after the camera.’) We saw a turtle, some capuchin monkeys and a bright blue butterfly the size of a tea plate before our trip was curtailed by rain.

After a jungle walk, it was time for a piranha fishing trip. Back in the motor boat, we passed through a much more open area with lots of bora reeds and then into a side channel to look for a suitable fishing spot.  The fishing rods are very simple, comprising a long stick, with a nylon line and a twisted wire hook at the end.  The method is to beat the water a few times with the end of the stick and then wait to see if anything takes the bait (a small scrap of meat).

After a short while, Ales caught a piranha. I felt a few nibbles, and noticed that my bait was getting smaller.  After using several pieces of bait and concluding that we were feeding the piranhas rather than fishing for them, I finally caught a red piranha.  Marc also caught one, but a baby, which Ales through back.  Ales and the boatman caught a couple more between them.  Neil hooked what seemed like something enormous, but the rod (or rather stick) broke before he could find out what it was.  Later, trying in the same place with Neil’s shortened rod I had the same experience, but managed to land a large forked stick.  On the way back we passed a boatload of Warao people fishing for something larger.  During the return journey to the Orinoco Delta Camp there were a couple of heavy rain storms.  The experience of travelling at speed in an open motorboat through heavy rain is not pleasant, though the remedy of holding heavy duty plastic sheet over the head is not ideal either, as you end up with a face full of slightly grubby plastic. Neil and I got to taste a piranha each at dinner, along with the main course of strips of beef with red peppers.  There isn’t a great deal of flesh on a piranha, but what there is tastes quite good.  Marc can’t abide fish, so did not partake. The other visitors to the camp left during the day so we three were the only guests for dinner.

There was heavy rain again in the night. Fortunately the roof of the cabin was water-tight, but it was quite noisy.  The cockerels also started earlier, at 2.00 a.m. Marc left in the morning, leaving Neil and I as the only guests in the camp.  Ales took us across to the Orinoco Delta School, which is a school for the local Warao children, funded by the company that runs the Orinoco Delta Lodge.  It comprised one large building, with a partition across the middle so that the elementary class could be separated from the more advanced children. In one corner there are toilets. There is one teacher, who speaks Spanish and Warao.  When we arrived she was teaching the alphabet to the youngest children.  The older children were copying out sentences in Spanish such as “my brother does the dishes” from a white board. During their break, they played with wooden dice about 1 ½ inches in size, which had letters of the alphabet and pictures on them.  The game they played with them was however a version of marbles, which involved one child trying to hit another child’s die with their own. We then continued up the river for another go at piranha fishing. This time neither Neil or I were lucky, but Ales and the boatman caught one each, which we were promised for lunch.

As it turned out, we didn’t get to eat the piranha for lunch, as the cats got them first.  We had lau lau in a spicy coconut sauce, which was very nice. The cats were interested, but we did our best to ignore them. Just as we finished, Rumba the macaw swooped in, landed on Neil’s shoulder, then hopped onto the table, and proceeded to get stuck into the leftover scraps on my plate.  I grabbed a camera to photograph her. She then sat on the back of my chair, eating the scraps, dropping quite a lot on the floor, to the delight of the cats.  I later discovered that she had dropped some of it into my backpack.  I wondered why one of the dogs was so interested in it that she stuck her head right in.

Our afternoon trip took us through more rain to a distant Warao village.  On the way we saw more red howler monkeys. Disembarkation was tricky as it involved a wooden ladder.  We saw women preparing fish, watched by the inevitable cat, and traditional-style Warao open-sided wooden houses, with hammocks and cooking fires (also TVs and fridges).  The wooden walkways here were high off the ground, and a number of slats were missing. At the other end of the village there was a new school building, paid for by the government, and a large poster of Chávez (we saw many such posters in the villages we passed).

The following morning loud ‘noises off’ alerted us to the presence of Rumba in the moriche palm tree outside our cabin. She was eating (and mostly dropping) the moriche fruit, whilst keeping up a running commentary. After breakfast, the small ginger kitten decided to escort us back to our cabin. Not to be outdone, Rumba also tried to come in, but it was time for us to leave.