Gelato!

Gelato makes my holiday go round. Part of the fun of travelling is letting yourself do things you wouldn't normally at home. I don't buy ice-creams on a day out in Sydney, it's not even something that really occurs to me to do but on holiday it is at the forefront of my mind at every city I go to.

To start with, that age old question; what is the difference between ice-cream and gelato? After some research-very little it turns out. Gelato is made with more milk and less cream making it- you guessed it – less creamy. It is churned slower which allows less air in and makes it a denser treat, and finally the last difference is the temperature that it is served at. Gelato is served much warmer than ice-cream and so is softer and smoother.

 

Now we have our facts out of the way, let’s talk flavours. I was one of those kids that would only ever eat chocolate flavoured anything. Milk, yogurt, ice-cream. It took me a long time to start branching out into ‘exotic flavours’ like rum and raisin and cookies and cream. These days I’m more adventurous. For instance in Valencia this year I tried a gelato labelled ‘anchoa’ with a little picture of a fish next to it. The serving lady warned me, she said ‘it is a fish’ with a worried look on her face and I told her knew and she handed me a tiny scoop of it. I almost spat it out onto the cobble stones but I held myself together whilst my friend just laughed at me. The taste was of anchovies that have been left to soak in curdled cream for a week. I think it was the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted.

Fortunately that has been my only bad experience of gelato. Many have been the delightful ones. Whilst travelling though Italy in 2011 my friend and I agreed that there was nothing wrong with a gelato a day as long as it was different flavours each time. This was never going to be a problem in the country that has gelatarias displaying 100 different flavours (Il Gelato di Claudio Torce, V.le dell’Aeronautica 105, Roma). From that summer I remember rich berry flavours being our favourite. Taking care not to drip the deep reds onto our clothes for fear of stains but loving the colours it left on our lips.

 

 

This year I the only pact I made with myself was not to pay more than €3 for 2 scoops, a very easy pact to keep all over the continent. I tried dark and bitter chocolates, candy flavoured bananas, rockmelon, watermelon and honeydew, Nutella with caramel running through it like little flavour giving veins. Blackcurrant that was overrun by seeds, rum and raisin with raisins so soaked in the rum that they spat juice out at you when you bit into them. I had green apple which was equal parts sweet and tart and the famous (in Venice at least) Crema come una volta, a mix of eggs, fresh cream and lemon peel. A taste that is hard to describe but think of something a little like a creamy custard. Or visit a Grom gelataria to try it yourself.

Next time I think I want to branch into the flower flavoured that I have seen here and there. A little bit of lavender or cold rose on your tongue just sounds divine!  I will be steering well clear of beer or tomato flavoured gelato’s. I don’t need a second bad experience.

Here’s a recipe for a Hazelnut Gelato that you can try and make yourself.

Toast 1 ½ cups of hazelnuts in a moderate oven for 5 minutes. (Watch them carefully because they burn easily). Remove the skins by wrapping them in a tea towel and gently rubbing. Chop coarsely.

Beat 6 egg yolks and gradually stir in 1 ½ cups of caster sugar, beating until nicely mixed.  Heat 2 cups of full cream milk with 2 cups of cream until it is almost boiling then remove from the heat and quickly whisk in the egg and sugar mixture. In a bain-marie, cook the mixture gently until it thickens and coats a wooden spoon. Cool in the fridge. Whisk in 2 tablespoons Fra Angelico or Vanilla essence and 2 cups of cream.  Add the hazelnuts and the juice and zest of 1 lemon. Pour the mixture into an ice cream maker and follow the machine’s instructions to finish this rich gelato off!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Madrid

The last few weekends of being back on Australian soil have meant being able to sit down at the family table and read the Sydney Morning Herald over a lazy breakfast. My schedule usually goes something like; skim the Good Weekend whilst eating my muesli, pick out my favourite parts of the Spectrum enjoying a tea at the same time then settle down to navigate the travel section in the comfort of an armchair. Long mornings like this are one of the best things about being home.

The Traveller weekend edition has introduced a new section ‘One day 3 ways’ where it introduces a city and gives you options on how to spend your time and money there; categorising the options into ‘Penny Pinch’ ‘Easy Does It’ and ‘Splash Out’. Which is fine, except that this weekend’s city is Madrid and their day spent penny pinching has still cost them $141. Now if that is one day out of even a two week trip, that trip has cost you roughly $2000 and that is without any flights. Now obviously the SMH knows their readers and perhaps this shows how the average Australian likes to travel, with a modicum of comfort and desire to see everything at once, and you know what, fair play to them.

However, I know (because I am one of them and travel with many others) that there are many other Australians out there. Ones who are overseas for the long haul and are trying to pace their pennies or those who are only away for two weeks but still want to be sensible with their savings.  And for these people $2000 in 2 weeks is not ‘penny pinching’.

I spent 3 weeks in Spain this August/September including 3 nights in Madrid and I kept my budget to about $1000 for this 3 weeks (not including my flights). This divides into roughly $50 a day including my accommodation and buses between cities in Spain. I wish to share how I would go about experiencing Madrid on a budget as strict as my own.

First of all – Hostels! I have only ever had great experiences in hostels. I stayed with a chain called Equity Point Hostels whilst I was in Barcelona, Madrid and Girona and each of them was different but good. In Madrid 3 nights in a 4 bed mixed share room with Ensuite was €35. It was very central (a few meters up from the Puerta del Sol, a major square in the city) They provided breakfast of cereal, toast, fruit and beverages which is all you need but if you are like me and love to make breakfast an experience to set up the rest of the day, there is a café/bar across the road where you can sit at a high stool at the counter next to the old guy doing his crossword and have your rich latte and light custard filled croissant whilst watching the café staff chatter in Spanish to their regular customers coming in for their espresso shot before work. This meal and experience will only cost you €3!

 

The best thing you can do whilst travelling to new places and especially if you are by yourself, is take a local walking tour. Hostels usually advertise them and many are free (which means they will ask for a tip at the end). In Madrid I went on the Sandemans free tour, after meeting up in Placa Mayor which is walking distance from the hostel we were taken on a 3 hour walking tour of the city. The guide was the best I have ever had, energetic, fun, knowledgeable and don’t worry, she did give us breaks in this tour to get a drink or sit down whilst she stood and talked. After the tour she was happy to give recommendations for what to do next and I was happy to tip her, of course this amount is up to your discretion.

Lunch time! Now it all really depends on what you are travelling for here, for me, the food is important but the friend I was travelling with was not too worried, as long as his stomach was filled! Thus, one day found us in a beautiful plant filled café with water misting from the ceilings in order to reprieve us from the dry dry heat of Madrid (The street was Calle Carmen, lots of restaurants along here). We ordered a variety of Tapas including things like foie gras with caramelised apples, spinach and ricotta quiche and even tapas sized steaks. With drinks this meal would have cost us about €15 each. The next day we went to Marc’s choice of restaurant, 100 Montaditos! This funny little fast food joint sells montaditios (little sandwiches) for €1 each. A bottle of beer (which I am assured was actually alright tasting) was also €1 and my glass of cold sangria was €1.50. Here lunch was possible for as little as €3.50. (It is worth noting that there are many of this chain scattered around Spain and even others that go by a different name but the same cheap prices).  A must for some time during your trip is a baguette filled with Jamon Iberico. This rich and gamey prosciutto is a Spanish staple (as our guide said, when a Spaniard moves to another country, there are two things he misses. His mother and Jamon.) Pick one up for only €4 and you will probably be happy to make it a staple of every day.

 

After lunch I would recommend a stroll in the Parque del Retiro. A subway ticket will cost €1.50 for a ride or you could walk. This park is just astounding. From clipped hedges and manicured flowerbeds that led me to believe I was in a scene from Alice in Wonderland to gravel paths winding through tall trees that dappled the sunlight yellow through their autumn foliage. There is a huge lake covered with paddle boats carrying laughing couples. Around its edges are buskers performing everything from magic to break-dancing to jazz saxophone and even a children’s puppet show was set up with a rug in front and tens of adoring little fans watching. Just walking the edge of this lake provided us with endless entertainment. The rest of the park is huge and I didn’t make it all the way around because there was somewhere I needed to be for sunset.

 

Walking from the park to the Egyptian temple was a fair hike so you had better be prepared, however you might not even notice the ground you have covered if you keep your eyes up and on the changing scenery. From the area near the park that has leafy boulevards, fountains instead of roundabouts, and large white buildings suggesting palaces at every intersection; up to the Gran Via where you could be forgiven for thinking that you were in a strange mix of Broadway in Sydney and Piccadilly in London. It was a theatre district that could be anywhere in the world. Large television screens covered buildings, every few meters it seemed was a theatre with its doors wide open and the community on the pavements were homeless or tourists or dressed to the nines for a night out. It was a bustle of movement and music spilling from shop fronts. The mood changed again once we got to Plaza de Espana. Couples were canoodling on benches and children were kicking soccer balls on fenced off grass. This small plaza leads to the park holding the Temple of Debod. This is the only Egyptian temple outside of Egypt. It was built in 200 BC and was moved to Madrid in the 70’s as a thank you for helping to save other temples in Egypt. It is positioned on the edge of the sort of plateau that Madrid sits on and faces the setting sun. Come at the right time of the evening and the lookout will be milling with tourists, but not so many that you have to push your way through to get a good seat to watch from. The pollution in the sky gives off beautiful oranges and reds and the sun swelled to a huge size as I watched it dip below the edge of the horizon. On your walk up here, duck into a deli and buy some cheeses, meats, olives and breads and picnic as you watch it go down.

 

After that moment of stillness it is time to dive back into the city. Promoters everywhere will offer you flyers to clubs but be aware that they don’t kick off until about midnight in this city. If you haven’t been yet, duck into 100 montaditos now for a bucket of 5 beers for only €3 and be surprised by the way that this fast food joint turns into a pub of sorts for students in the evenings. Loud music and laughing staff make for a fun if simple atmosphere.

Come midnight you will have decided which of your club promoters was offering you the best deal and a quick meander through the streets will find you at some pumping club where your strip of paper will get you free entry and 2 shots for the price of one (or something similar). Dance with locals and tourists into the night in the city that doesn’t care if it has work in the morning, this night is here now and it needs celebrating!

 

Whole day = €40 or $58

I went to a concentration camp

Prior to four months ago I (similar to most people in this world) had never been to a concentration camp. Now writing this I have been to several camps, multiple times. Which is not so normal.

At Uni I became very interested in what we called ‘dark tourism’. It included things like the killing fields in Phnom Pen, the 9/11 memorial in New York and the concentration camps scattered around Europe. I visited the Sydney Jewish Museum and recommended it to all my friends as a sobering and educating visit. I went to Europe and spent a day in the Jewish Ghettos in Prague and Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam but I never made it to a concentration camp.

When I found out that on our Topdeck training trip we would be visiting the three main camps that our trips go to, I was excited to be fulfilling something I had wanted to do for a while.

Dachau was the first concentration camp that we visited. My excitement had turned to a slight unease because of the spiels that the trip leaders had been doing leading up to the camp. Some of them found themselves being serious for the first time in the trip and others even shed tears describing the atrocities that had happened here. The other thing that had me feeling apprehensive was the reactions of other people who had visited before when I said that I was excited. They looked at me like I was crazy and now I kind of understand why.

Dachau concentration camp is on the outskirts of the town of Dachau and the whole time that prisoners were held here, there were civilians living just a few kilometres away. It is located amongst trees and on the other side of a deep, swiftly running stream and between the many barracks and infirmaries are huge trees lining the long avenue. It was the first of the Nazi concentration camps to be opened and was originally just for political prisoners but was later expanded to be a work camp as well. I walked in nervously, unsure of what I was going to see. I almost tip toed around the empty prison cells and courtyard until the huge memorial statue struck me dumb. I stood staring at the twisted mass of sharp bodies that were intertwined in an agony that was palpable, I could feel the metal yearning to rise upwards in escape and my mind just went numb, unable to deal with the strong emotions that it conveyed. Walking through the museum and back to the coach I did not make eye contact with anyone, still unsure of how I felt I was in my head trying to work it out and eye contact with others would break this inner dialogue. I was broken from this reverie eventually but it had started my re-think of how I felt about concentration camps.

Mauthausen was the next camp that we visited. The first thing that struck me was how beautiful the area is that it is located in.  Perched on top of a hill it overlooks a large river and fields filled with golden mustard flowers. There was not a cloud in the sky and I particularly noticed how quiet it was, the only noise was the birds singing in the trees which had buds just beginning to open. The realisation that there had most likely been days just like this 70 years ago when the camp had been operating was what occupied my mind. Prisoners would have been starving, tired and sick and yet as they walked the death stairs down to the mine to work they would have been able to look across this beautiful and blissful countryside. I can’t imagine that it would have brought them the feeling of calm that it did to me, more likely is that they felt tormented, like the horse with the carrot dangled over its nose; so close and yet so far. Down in the mine, which today is green with grass, it’s cliff faces overgrown with vines and shrubs and it’s small lakes so still that they reflect the faces looking over into them it was hard to imagine that once it was an area of grey and mud and constant noise and movement. Standing on the stairs leading from the quarry up to the camp that had been witness to tens of thousands of deaths felt like stepping on top of a grave. I attempted just a few of them before I became too uncomfortable.

Auschwitz was the last camp that we visited and by this time I was very nervous as to how I would react. I had heard many accounts of how deeply some people were affected by it and wondered what it was that I was about to see. Differently to what we had experienced at Dachau and Mauthausan the weather was cold and wet and grey. We huddled in silence, our hoods up on our raincoats and already withdrawing inside our own heads as we realised what it was we were looking at. The site of one of the most disgusting and unforgivable atrocities that has happened in human history is a difficult thing to get your head around when it is right in front of you. There was no beautiful scenery surrounding this camp, just flat dreariness and I think that that is appropriate. We shuffled inside and put on our headsets so that our tour guide could project right into our heads and as she began to tell us stories of the camp I felt myself building up walls and feeling incredibly alone. My body and mind went numb unable to know what to do with the horrible information that I was being given and I felt like a pair of eyes walking around and observing but not interacting in any way. In a room filled with the shoes of those that died I began to feel physically sick and started shaking. I was hugging myself trying to stay in control of my body when our guide told us about the medical experiments that were conducted on children, the elderly, the disabled and twins. That broke me. I started sobbing and went to a window to try and remove and control myself. No one came to see how I was, they were all too shaken themselves. There was another huge shock yet to come though. We were taken into the gas chambers, still dark with chipped paint and most noticeably, gouges from where prisoners fingernails had scraped through the plaster trying to escape when they realised what was happening to them. At the end of the tour we stood in silence waiting for the coach. We made eye contact now, but didn’t need to say anything because it was obvious that everyone was shaken. I asked the tour guide how she did it day after day and she told me it was hard and that there were many many guides with a high turnover rate because of how draining it was but that as a local she had wanted to tell this story for years. I think we all respected what our trainer Lyndsay had said before we came in. She had told us that she no longer enters the camp when she is on tour, not because of how it makes her feel but because she doesn’t ever want to not feel that, for Auschwitz to become somewhere normal for her.

TT part 4

Our grand tour of Italy included Florence, Rome and Venice with day stops in Pisa and Orvieto. Pisa was our first stop, although the chefs spent the whole time in an amazing supermarket on the outskirts and only made it in so far as the coach park. Apparently this is what happens on each trip so Pisa is nothing to look forward to for us. Except for the supermarket. As we went through Italy we found that their supermarkets were almost all this fantastic, but this was the first. The deli section was the best, cured meats as far as the eye could see (almost) cheeses of all types piled high, fresh pasta the likes that I haven’t seen before packaged and waiting to eaten, vegetables that I have never seen before and fresh cakes with cream and fruit looking luscious and sweet. Ah-mazing. I didn’t end up minding missing out on Pisa.

In Florence we were staying in a huge accommodation, a campsite about 30 minutes drive out of the city. Each other time I have stayed in Florence I have stayed in camping Michelangelo which is just a walk out of town and I was excited to hear that on a regular trip we would be staying there also. Camping Girasole where we were covered acres and had a water park, night club, 3 restaurants, a supermarket and I’m sure much more included on its site. We were lucky enough to be staying in cabins here and had dinner in one of the restaurants. Florence was actually another good city for the chefs as we had dinner out both nights here.

Oh Florence. How I love you. This time was my third time to the city and it still retained its majesty for me. It was a beautiful warm day as we walked around the city. We were given a guided tour by a local, I loved this during TT, all these cities that I had been to before but I had never been given a tour of before, it was a great learning experience! The other thing I loved on TT was being able to walk around anywhere and just ask the closest TL “Hey, what’s that building?” or “Can you explain the fall of communism in the Balkans again? I didn’t quite get it.” And they could generally tell me! It was like having a walking talking guide book.

We met with suppliers at a leatherwork store before traversing the Florence from campsite to hostel, sampling the gelati and coffee on the way (When I write it like this it really doesn’t sound like such a bad trip!) We met for dinner that night at a restaurant in town which ended in karaoke with the trainers joining in as well and everyone dancing and singing together was only the start to a very memorable night. It was so memorable because when we arrived back at camp at 11pm, me with my head filled of the homework I had to do, we were told to meet in the camp nightclub in 15 minutes. I couldn’t believe it. We had had a huge day, I had things to do and I was still not clear of that cloud that had gathered over me in Antibes. Still I went down to the club and pasted a smile on my face, what else could I do?! We danced until we were let out of the club at 2am. All of us tired but with no choice, the only choice we could make was to enjoy ourselves. And we did. We encouraged the shyer ones to get up on the dance floor, we showed off our moves and when we saw another slowing down and starting to lag, we went to them and tried to raise them back up to some level of energy where they could continue. I loved my fellow trainees that night. When 2 am came and we checked out with our trainers (who were marking us off on their lists) they told us that they would see us again in a few hours at 5:30. One thing I became very good at was falling asleep instantly!

Day 24 we got up blurry eyed but still smiling and began our drive to Rome. On drive days, which were every other day, we were divided on the coach. Drivers sat up the front so that they could take route notes and watch signs, TL’s sat in the middle whilst they studied their history and stats and got called up to spiel on the microphone and chefs sat on the back seat and made meal plans and shopping lists and recipes. We may have called ourselves the backseat bandits but given half a chance we moved as far up the coach as possible! The back seat was the warmest (not good for trying to stay awake) the noisiest (being near the engine) and on our coach had a seat that we termed the torture seat, naughty corner or devils seat. For some reason this seat had bits of metal sticking up in it and on several occasions, normally sane people lost their temper whilst sitting there. It was soon declared off limits after that. Whilst driving we had to work and we had to stay awake. These were together, big tasks and I did the majority of my work standing up and writing leaning on the back of a seat to keep from falling asleep. Probably 75% of the time I spent standing, giving the TL’s and interested face every now and then, watching the scenery and getting close to the AC.

Every day though, you would have a moment or so when lucidness was not present and on these occasions different people reacted differently. We would become what we termed ‘Starry eyed’ which is that face where your forehead is all scrunched trying to keep your eyes open, and they are, but they aren’t seeing anything, and someone would say your name as if from a distance which would bring you back for all of 10 seconds before you went back to that place that lives just in front of your eyes and disconnected from your body... I know this place well. My writing would become illegible whilst I struggled to pretend I was still awake. Laura would write random items onto her shopping. One day she showed us a list to which, in her delirium, she had added “mixed herds – don’t make them angry, Potatoes – 50 Aus and 50 US” and “100mls of Italy”. That shopping list has gone down in TT history.

We stopped on our drive at Orvieto, a hilltop town, for lunch. We dashed up the hill to one of the most spectacular cathedrals I have ever seen and had just enough time for a wild boar sandwich and lavender chocolate before heading down again for lunch. Hey. A cooks gotta do what a cooks gotta do!

On arrival in Rome the TL’s had to go out and practice what is one of their biggest spiels, the 3 hour walking tour in Rome. The cooks got excited by the fact that the supermarket was across the road from the camp and we also met the catering manager for Topdeck whom we had heard so much about. That was a very nerve wracking time. Rome was big for us in general; we have a showcase meal that we cook there. The magical Lasagne without an oven. I was cook of the day for that day and was lucky enough to be in charge of cooking that one; I also did white bean bruschetta as a starter and tiramisu for dessert. Yum yum! During our time in Rome we also did a Vatican tour and fact finding of the city. I fact found some more delicious gelato and the Capuchin monks catacombs which are totally decorated in bones in a most spectacular and slightly creepy way. I started seeing things as my tiredness caught up on me in Rome and it was at that time that I decided (with others) that napping on the lawn in front of a shopping centre was probably the best idea ever. Life saver.

Rome also become a focal point for the trip because it was when we got severely culled. By this time several people had already been asked to leave including 3 in one go in Barcelona and it was a shock every time. It felt like living in a game show, we would all of a sudden discover that someone was evicted and had to leave straight away. In Rome they announced to us that they would be culling us so that we would fit into one coach instead of two. We were left hanging on this terrifying statement for a whole day before they announced that 6 of the chefs would be going to continue their training on site and that 3 of the drivers would be going off on Walla trips (basically shadowing another driver on a real trip). So this meant that actually only 2 people left the trip entirely in Rome. When the next morning we crammed all 49 of us into the one coach there was a very different feeling in the air. We were making our way to Albania today and it felt like TT had passed the halfway point and it was a downhill roll from here. Or at least that is how it felt for me. How wrong I was.

Part 3 of TT

On our second day in Barcelona I was cook of the day. What I may not have explained is that for each day we had a crew of the day when a driver, chef and TL were selected to run the day. Chefs got to know in advance so that we could shop in advance, drivers got to know the night before so that they could get rested but TLs often did not know until first thing in the morning or even swapped during the day. There was one occasion where the whole trip was woken at 3am and the trainers swapped all of the crew of the day in one go. This was hectic because we had to do a lot of organising then on the spot, in the middle of the night.

So cook of the day in Barcelona was actually a sweet deal because we were in a hostel with breakfast provided and we were buying our own dinner! All I had to do was prepare 80 lunches out of my room.... That was the night I got an hour and a half sleep. That morning we were sent into the city for fact finding. I fact found breakfast at La Boqueria a beautiful food market off of La Rambla whilst we watched the store holders setting up their wares of dried and fresh fruit, seafood still wriggling on the ice, huge slabs of cheese, vegetables so perfect and shining that I thought they could be plastic! The sweet smell of spices and herbs and chocolate wafted and made my coffee and pastry taste even better as I waited for the supermarket to open so we could go shopping.

Even in these early days of the trip we were used to having tests sprung on us and so, as the chefs waited for our trainer to turn up at the agreed meeting point, every minute she was late we got more nervous. Surely this was a test? Was this her way of forcing us to do the shopping by ourselves? Of getting us to use our initiative to find our way back to the hostel on public transport? Were we meant to start without her to show how we valued timekeeping? It was all too confusing. In the end she was just late of course and we breathed a sigh of relief, this time it was not a test. (Later in the trip I would wake up in a tent with Tarryn with the rain bucketing down outside and our departure time in just under an hour. Tarryn asked me sleepily if the rain was a test but I reassured her that the trainers did not have control of the weather and this one was just bad luck)

That night we went to a flamenco performance in Placa Reial which was awesome.  Crazy guttural throat singing, stamping and waving of skirts all in an exotic location. Placa Reial has gone down as one of the places I really need to get back to, the square was lit with an orange glow that showed up the palm trees and white archways of the bars and restaurants like they were glowing from real fire. It took my imagination back to times of old spice traders and for some reason, Shakespeare’s Othello. A drink definitely needs to be had here in the future.

Our drive from Barcelona took us up to the French Riviera. Everywhere we went the scenery was new and exciting and here was no exception. Think clichéd Van Gogh paintings and you won’t be far off.  We stopped by Fragonards (say it out loud, its fun) a family run perfumery where we were shown the perfume making process, and told about the position of ‘The Nose’. The Nose is the person who creates new perfumes, I think they said there are only about 50 of them in the world and it takes about 9 years of training to get the position. The girls on the trip loved it all and the guys even enjoyed it because of the pretty girls who took us around.

We stayed in Antibes which is in-between Cannes and Nice and it was there in that campsite that I had my biggest struggle. I had not had enough sleep for weeks, we had been tested too many times and we had just been given more study work than I thought I could handle. For the two nights we were in Antibes I was speaking to my family telling them that I was going to leave the trip once we got to our next stop, Florence. In my mind I was already planning what I was going to do for work once I got to the Netherlands. This was when the TT crew pulled together for me. People saw me falling apart and so many people came to talk me through it and give me the support I needed and this was part of what made me continue. The other part was arriving in one of my favourite cities, Florence and the feeling of calm that came over me as I walked down the streets made me think that maybe I could do it.

Back to Antibes. The best bit about Antibes was Monaco! We drove up to Monaco one night dressed up in the best clothes we had for a quick tour and fact finding. I fact found the Monte Carlo casino, the grand prix track, the best rooftop bar for views of the city and Buddha bar, a bar like I haven’t seen before that I promised I was coming back to. Monaco itself was an incredible place. The sort of place that you see in movies and think must be digitally created. Because it is such a small area it is FULL, no area is left bare, but it is all done beautifully. Roads gracefully curve over each other and towers rise high with delicate bridges built connecting them. Where there is a clear space it is green and manicured, probably with a fountain in it and everything is clean. We were only there for a few hours and I can’t wait to go back and really enjoy it from a rooftop or the Buddha bar.

Next stop Italy! A chef’s favourite destination!

Part 2 of TT

In sum up of Paris, I learnt that Charlemagne was “so big he could mount his horse from behind” that at the Paris opera, “to your left, you can see boobs” that it is possible to fall asleep standing up, and that I had never been properly cold before. To sleep in our tent I wore 3 pairs of jeans with woollen tights underneath, 3 pairs of socks, 7 layers of hoodies, thermals, jackets and jumpers on top, I wrapped myself in my giant scarf like it was a cocoon and zipped into my sleeping bag which was insulated from the ground by a lilo and newspaper (a little trick I picked up from the homeless). It was snowing as we took down our tents on the last morning and I thought I was never going to get to feel my fingers again. There is a reason that Topdeck doesn't take out camping trips this early in the year! I also thought I was never going to hear the end of Napoleon. It turns out I was right about that one.

The whole drive to Lauterbrunnen in Switzerland was filled with whispered wonderings as to whether we would be camping again. The sigh of relief when the TL of the day announced that they were reading out the rooming list was audible. We still set up the cook tent and ate outside amongst piles of snow but we slept in cabins. Lauterbrunnen was a special site for the chefs. When we are not on a trip we will be based at one of 3 permanent cook sites. One in Lauters one in Rome and one in Venice. These are 3 major sites that the majority of trips come through and so there are large marquees and a permanent kitchen set up at each one. Here we will cater for up to 200 people a night and breakfast and sometimes lunch, so I was very interested to see the first one of these sites. It did not disappoint. Lauterbrunnen is at the bottom of a steep valley, noise in the town has to stop after 10pm because of the disturbance caused by any sound echoing around the mountains. There are huge waterfalls tumbling from the cliff faces around the campsite and if you need any more of a visual I need only tell you that it was JRR Tolkien’s inspiration for Rivendell, which should cement in your mind the idyllic location that we were in.

On our day in Lauters we were treated to a trip up Jungfrau. Jungfrau is advertised as the roof of Europe and is 4,158 meters high (that’s about 4 times the height of the Blue Mountains for Sydneysiders playing at home). We went up on a cute little railway and were warned about altitude sickness. Some people did feel sick, I certainly felt light headed and short of breath and at lunch time, Michelle and I were overcome with the giggles to such an extent that we could only blame the height! They had really cool caves within a glacier, ice carvings and outdoor platforms where on a nice day you could appreciate the view but we could barely see 10 meters in front of ourselves! The whole experience was only topped by the next day when we went to Engleburg and up Mt Titlis. After the jokes about the mountain being a bit higher than the name might suggest (it is 3,238 meters high) we ascended it in ‘Gondolas’ and were provided chocolate bars in preparation for the altitude sickness (sugar helps). What they couldn’t prepare us for was the world that greeted us once we broke through the clouds. The gasp from our group as we saw the sun ricocheting off the solid mass of clouds and sharply defining the jagged edges of the black mountains made the locals laugh. Our mouths stayed open for the rest of that visit. This time we didn’t spend nearly as much time in their ice caves because outside was just so glorious. There was a swing bridge to cross, snow angels to make and skiers to watch descending into the clouds. A-mazing. That night we stayed in a cute ski lodge in town and I was babysitting some lettuces I didn’t want to wilt and so I hung them out the window to keep fresh in the chill air. The chefs were probably the only ones who missed the cold weather once it was gone.

Our next stop was in Avignon in the south of France.

Side note – in an attempt to make us more international and less bogan Australian, everyone on trip but especially the TL’s were being pulled up on their pronunciation. The big one was France. It was to be pronounced in the cultured, European way, not the bogan nasally Australian way. I found this very hard.

 Back to Avignon. It is a totally walled city with an interesting half- bridge thing going on in its river. The chefs didn’t get into the city until about 10pm that night as we were setting camp up checking out supermarkets and cooking and by the time the TL’s led us over for our tour it was completely deserted. The whole place was beautifully lit up and I could imagine that with the carousel going and people in the bars it would be idyllic, but come Sunday evening it was very quiet.

The next morning we were up early (again, check in with our trainers was generally before 6am and we had to check in dressed and ready for the day). This was a big day of driving, first stop was Pont Du Gard, an ancient roman aqueduct 3 levels high and very impressive. We stopped for less than an hour just to look and let the TL’s spiel on it before we continued on down to Barcelona (Pronounced – Barthelona). I guess I had forgotten about where we were going because when we got off the coach in the centre of the city to look at the Segrada Familia I was still wearing 2 layers of pants and woollen socks and was distinctly uncomfortable. Not that I was complaining, I was thrilled that it was warm! We drove around the city a few times, staring with open mouths as we rounded the top of the hill to the side of the city and taking in the sweeping views of a lively city that spread from the sea all the way up the surrounding hills and back into the valley. We drove past the port where Christopher Columbus set off to discover the new world and spied on the many many buildings designed by Gaudi, it really is his city. That night we ate Tapas and Paella (No sangria unfortunately, no alcohol allowed on TT) before we got back on the coach to continue looping the city.

TBC...

Training Trip part 1...

Hi there! My name’s Gemma. You may remember me from 8 weeks ago when I was last on social media. For all those that don’t know, I have been on an intensive training trip for the last month and a half around Europe. The company is Topdeck, a name that does not seem to instantly resonate with most people I have found but hopefully will soon J They are a tour company with routes all around the world in Africa, Australia, New Zealand, North America and of course Europe catering for 18 to 30 something’s. I’m not in marketing so if you want to know more, there is a website. Prepare yourself, I am going to try and condense this but those of you that know me know that I have a lot to say.

My getting over to this training trip was all chance. Jasmine had been on one of their trips last year and has another one booked in for just a few weeks time. We were walking one day, me talking about how I didn’t know what direction I wanted my work to go in and how there were just too many options! Jas mentioned that her Trip Leader from her tour had been in a similar situation and had trained as an on road chef for Topdeck and never looked back. That night, when sitting in my windowless office in Sydney CBD after management had left, I printed off the application form thinking ‘Why not?’

Skip forward to 2 months later after interviews in Brisbane, frantically faxing credit card details from a hostel in Wellington, New Zealand and total panic over last minute visas coming from Kuala Lumpar and I was in London walking to my first day in the ‘Classroom’ (Read: room at the top of a pub in Hammersmith). I found out recently that the person I sat next to on that first day thought I must be a real tough bitch of a girl because I was so stone faced. I apologised to him, explaining that I was just totally terrified of what I was getting myself into! I came home that night, rang my parents in tears telling them that I couldn’t do it. I wish I could tell you this was the last time that happened.

Consolation came weeks later into the trip when we discovered that almost all of us had had the same reaction on the first or second day, in fact some people did leave right then. For me it was the realisation that I really didn’t have a whole lot else to do and the fact that I knew I had to give it more of a chance than just one day.

Our training trip started two days later in Wemeldinge, a small town in Zeeland in the Netherlands. There was snow on the ground despite the fact that it was spring and every day more fluttered down. In our beautiful accommodation we started to get to know each other. The training group started with 77 trainees. Trip leaders, Drivers and Chefs. 15 chefs started the training trip (henceforth known as TT), about 20 something drivers and LOTS of Trip Leaders (henceforth known as TL’s).  We are not a very shy bunch and the accommodation was soon bustling.

In the day we were split, the chefs were doing shopping lists, making recipes, drawing up meal plans and talking about the destinations we would be going to, gathering translations and public holidays and of course, cooking. The TL’s were (I think) learning how to spiel, how to tell a story, be interesting, think on their feet, procedures, accounts and goodness know what else. The drivers were learning how to drive! They went around and around the town of Goes until the police asked what was happening, they learnt how to route note and how to clean the coach, even when the water froze onto the windscreen as they poured it on. In my group there were trained chefs (one) and people like me, far removed from the cooking world. In the TL’s there were history teachers and tour guides and others who had just thought that it looked like fun, and in the drivers there were those who had already worked for Topdeck in NZ and Aus, one guy had even been working for they-who-shall-not-be-named  around Europe and then there were those who had only driven a coach when they got their licence a month ago. It was a healthy mix and Wemeldinge was a fun place. In our week there we got one break. Just one. For 45 minutes. This was just a taste of what was to come. We went up to Amsterdam one day, to give all of us something new to do and also to pick up 2 chefs who were joining us. It was also our first taste of what visiting the great cities of Europe was going to be like. We dashed around all day, trying to find meeting points, trying to find supermarkets, trying to find places to buy warmer clothes! I wolfed down chips for dinner and didn’t even get to make it to my favourite place, the red light district! It felt like a huge day, but like I said, only a taster.

Our first real stop was Paris. But first I think, a little about the position I was going for. Topdeck has a multitude of different trips that they offer, split into categories of Hotel, Club (a mix of accommodation) and Camping. The chefs only go on the camping trips (with two exceptions) and set up amongst the tents with their own cook tent and serve up delicious breakfast, lunch and dinner to waiting passengers. All of our cooking is done on 5 gas burners sitting about a foot off the ground. I was sceptical about what could be done with this but boy was I impressed with some of the things we pulled out of that tent!

Our Paris campsite was not what I was expecting and we set up the tent on gravel and smashed out a first night dinner in under 2 hours (remembering, cooking for 77 people) we had to go fast because we were going straight into driving tours. This was our first of many. What happens is when a trip comes into a new country, the TL does a spiel on where they are, the culture, history teaches a bit of language and lets you know what some of the essential experiences, foods and knowledge is. This goes for about half an hour, no small speech. Then when we come into a city, they have a city specific spiel as well and then in certain destinations there are driving tours or walking tours. The Paris night driving tours goes for 3 hours normally but we were doing it for the TLs and drivers to practice the route and so we went around and around and around and around and around.... We had 4 coaches circling the city for the first 3 nights in order to give as many people practice as possible. And the chefs? We had to take notes, give feedback and above all STAY AWAKE. This was a HUGE part of the trip. No sleeping on the coach ever. Just to help it sink it in how hard these driving tours were, there were TL’s who had never been to Paris, they had never seen the Eiffel tower let alone the Austerlitz column and yet they still had to recognise it on first sight and let us know interesting and relevant facts and stories about it. I am still, 8 weeks later in awe of their abilities. And the drivers, we have all heard about the roundabout at the Arc de Triumph, 6 lanes, no lines, and some of our drivers had only been driving a coach for one week! Needless to say we applauded each time we made it on and off.

During the day the chefs visited a Metro supermarket, similar to a Costco I believe, where everything is bulk buy and entry is buy membership only. I have never seen so much food purchased in my life. People took pictures of us. It was an eye opening experience and I still don’t know how I am supposed to do that shop by myself one day....

Some of what we were purchasing was for what is one of the chef’s crowning moments of a trip. The Paris Picnic. We put on a huge spread of delicious and local foods under the Eiffel Tower for the second night of our trips. It was a lot of fun to prepare and I cooked and ate snails for the first (but not last) time ever!

 Other things we did with our days were meeting suppliers and Fact Finding. Oh how I learnt to dislike those words. At first it was fun, we would run around a city in our designated groups finding the opening hours, prices, group discounts and general info of all the attractions, restaurants, bars, markets, public toilets and parks. But I couldn’t keep the enthusiasm for it throughout the whole trip, in fact it died pretty quick.

 

First day in London

London is colder than I had even imagined.Wrapped in my four layers of new clothing that I had tested at home and had made me sweat on that 26 degree day that now seems like an age ago, dressed in those same clothes today I was shivering. Wondering where in my luggage I put my beanie and Gloves (the ones that on my packing list had a little question mark next to them, as if I was wondering if they were really necessary). Now I am grateful for my decision to bring them, or at least I will be when I unpack and find them.

On the train from Heathrow to Kings Cross I listened to The Wombats on my iPod. Back home the grungy songs that they sing about London always seemed so much from the heart if a touch romatic, but now confronted by the London (side of the rail tracks) suburbia, they seem to be singing about some place they have never been. About an image of themselves that they wanted to portray but those rows of identical pebble-crete houses with brown sludge and a leafless tree for a garden just said "yeah right, they know nothing of us". Which makes me sad because I really like The Wombats and I dont want to think of them as fakes. Maybe I'll try them again tomorrow in the city centre and see if that makes more sense.

At the hostel I checked in, took several tries on different floors to find my room, sat down on the bed and burst into tears. I controlled them before they became sobs and assessed what was happening. This was the first time I was able to stop and be totally by myself since I left everybody 1? 2? days ago. I needed a plan to keep busy to keep my mind off it, off being away. After clinging to the scarf gifted to me by Anna as though it was a little piece of every person that I was missing, I set myself a timetable for the rest of the day which allowed me only to shed tears at bed time. (Crying myself to sleep? I'm not looking for pity here, just have to acknowledge my feelings somehow). I took a shower, it's one of those wonderful ones that have a button that dispenses water on you for 10 seconds (I counted) when you press it. Oh, and the window was open so it was freezing cold in between the bursts of water, and the shower was concrete and the whole bathroom was wet, but apart from all of this I feel a new person after that shower and now my cup of soup and digestive biscuits are making life better by the bite. My cold symptoms launched into full blown cold on the plane (sorry everyone on that flight with me, you will probably be sick on your holiday now) s I'm also sipping Lemsip and hoping this subsides before I'm supposed to be cooking for 40 people.

SCUBA

I made a new years resolution to myself. This year, I will get my rescue scuba divers licence. I’ve held an open water divers licence since 2007 when school took us up to Cairns to get our qualification. We spent three days on land sitting our tests and practicing in the pool, then three days out on the reef in a little boat where all we did was eat, sleep and SCUBA. I came to love diving so much. I loved the silence as you descended, which forced me into my own head. I always have intense conversations with myself when I am under the water because I feel enclosed in my own mind. I loved how calming it was. Almost the only thing you can hear is your breathing (think Darth Vader style). It’s like a meditation being so aware of your breath. Breathing underwater is a very different experience and lots of people don’t like it. I can’t say that I found it the most enjoyable feeling either initially but you get used to it and after a while you stop having to concentrate on each breath and relax into a very slow and consistent pattern. The best state to be in is a very relaxed one so that you don’t use up the air in your tank so fast with puffing, short, excited breaths.  Having said that the underwater world is a very exciting one and sometimes it is hard not to start squeaking and pointing or rushing over to where someone else is doing the same. Sharks don’t help relaxed breathing, neither do sea snakes or eels or even just very large fish but that is why scuba is like a Zen test. “Be calm young one for if it decides to hurt you, you have no chance and so why bother worrying?” I have had shark encounters under the water. In Cairns they were just reef sharks but when I went to Fiji where I got my advanced divers licence we went on  shark feeding trips where I came face to face with 2 meter long bronze whalers and lemon sharks. I’m still more scared of sea snakes though.

When I finished year 12 I wanted to be a dive instructor up in Cairns and live half my days on a boat in the sun. But scuba diving licences are expensive to get and so I resolved to slowly build on my licence over the years. I did a few dives in Sydney; they were cold and sometimes gloomy with very poor visibility and after the Barrier Reef, a comparatively poor array of fish and coral. One dive was advertised to us as a ‘Wreak Dive’. The Wreak turned out to be a motorcycle with a beer bottle sitting on the seat. Disappointing. But the dives were fun for that feeling of still that came over me, the meditation of breathing and the thoughts that came under the water.

 

A couple of dives in Greece again proved to me just how lucky we are to have the Barrier Reef so close and accessible. I went diving off the island of Santorini and at least these dives had the wreaks they promised to us. Large boats, sunk at 15 meters and big enough for us to swim through the cabins and hull. But I was shocked to see the disaster site that surrounded them. Piles of rubbish covered the floor of the enclave the boats were sunk in, rubbish floated around us and was scattered as far as we could see. There was next to no plant life or fish which I suspect was due to the rubbish and when we were again above water I asked our instructor why nobody cleaned the area. He told me that they did, that at the start of every tourist season all the dive organisations on the island gathered to clear out the cove, but because of the cruise ships and tourist ferries that frequented the island and the tourists who deposited their rubbish straight into the sea, it quickly filled back up again. It was sad that because so few people see beneath the waves, they can’t learn what damage they are doing above them.

During my time in Fiji I got to use my diving for a purpose other than recreation. There was a cyclone and it had torn up the shallow reef and with it the buoys that marked the boat free areas of the lagoon. A few days after the cyclone some of us went out to replace them. This involved finding stable areas of the reef to tie our buoys to and making sure the length of the line could accommodate for high tides. I was also shown the clam farm and a few clams that had been disrupted in the cyclone were gathered back and placed back in the farm area. We also helped from underwater to dislodge some anchors that had become too wedged to be removed from above.

 

My next diving trip is organised for a few weeks. I’ll be heading over to New Zealand and doing a few dives at the Poor Knights Island above Auckland. I am hoping it will be a multi-coloured explosion with plenty of new things to see (there always are) but most of all I’m looking forward to the splash as I roll over the side of the boat, followed by the slow silence, the alien sound of breathing underwater and the calm as I descend.

Sail Away