Drifting down the Thames

Downstream or upstream, I'm not sure which. Whichever way it was, the day after returning from Poland had to be a rest day. An 11am cruise from Reading to Henley on Thames seemed just the ticket. Even better, we found the only free parking in Reading right next to the riverboat mooring!

Although the day wasn't perfect, moving from 35 to 21 degrees was a bit of a shock to the system - and travelling down the Thames caused a breeze just cool enough to warrant some shopping when we got to Henley on Thames.


Anyways, the boat was named the Mary Stuart; it took a good couple of hours to get there, and I stopped taking photographs after a while as there were just too many gorgeous houses on the banks of the River Thames.

Henley on Thames is just 8.3 miles from Reading, but what a different world. While Reading is very much a commuter city, Henley on Thames had these beautiful shops on narrow streets. The choice for lunch wasn't a great one - my chicken / bacon salad came with half a chicken and quarter a pig. There were some salad greens, but not many. Having said that, sitting in the garden bar under the heat lamp was just lovely. An added bonus was seeing the All Whites scoring their goal against Slovakia in the World Cup. Imagine if you will, a packed bar watching the game. They shoot, they score, I throw my arms into the air with a 'wooo hoooo!'. I'm the only Kiwi in the bar. Silence all round. I take my cider and move back out to the garden bar. Quietly.

Ah well, after a leisurely lunch, we took a quick dive into the shops, found myself a cardi for the ride home, and off we went for our return boat-ride.

Now, I'm not sure if it was that night that resulted in my best dining experience in England. Jamie's Italian - it was with a fair bit of trepidation that we entered this restaurant, expecting not very much.
However, the service was fantastic, the food divine and I've been left a Jamie convert. I can't describe the symphony of flavours, just, if you ever get the chance, go Jamie's Italian. As Paul said to the chef on the way out... 'you guys are artists'. Wow.

A farmhouse in Poland

Getting back to the great OE, after Krakow came four days in a farmhouse 60kms south west of Krakow, on the road to Tarnow. Or, as Barb's brother told us on Facebook just a week before I left New Zealand, 'leave west london, head east, drive for 1200 miles and you're there. Nearly. Or, the house no. is 87, the village is Flisewice, the area is Zakliczyn, the state is Malopolski. It's somewhere in-between Tarnow and Krakow. I promise I will be at the airport when you arrive. p.s. it's not a big forest.' And as Barb's husband responded 'I had a case of Malopolskie once, but the Zakliczyn cleared it right up.'

The first day saw a girls' trip to Brzesko (said Br-jes-go), and the markets. Officially, we were there to find Boz something to wear for the christening, but unofficially, I had a GREAT time. Shopping without a shared language is surprisingly easy. And the stall-holders were amazingly helpful. This was a market chocka full of clothes and shoes stalls. Heaven! I found a stunning grey velvet dress complete with sparkly bits, for only 110 zlotys... about $50NZ. The only queues were the ones at the food / drink stalls - for water. In 35 degrees, everyone was keen to keep hydrated.

The second day we were sent to Zaklycyn (said Za - klitchen). Another market, smaller this time, with more of the second-hand clothes variety. I went with high hopes (and 500 zlotys in hand), but failed to spend anything there. When we discovered a flat battery, we were forced back into the shops (the heat, you know), and had a great time exploring the supermarkets and electronics shops. I found a charger for my mobile phone for 15 zlotys (about $6), and very proudly carried out the transaction from start to finish without much Polish at all.Needing a jeweller, Barb spotted two teenage girls standing outside on the street. Thinking these would be the obvious people to know where to find a jeweller, she was right when they pointed across the (narrow, cobblestoned) street and one of them came to serve us!

Home in the Polish countryside was indeed next to a forest, and on each day I managed a wander through. It was shady (good in the heat), and felt just like Little Red Riding hood was going to appear. I was told that 70% of Poles live in the countryside, and I could quite believe it. The houses were of concrete blocks, solid and large. I was told that many housed extended families, which was true for the house in which we stayed.

The hospitality was amazing. On our arrival, our hosts discovered that beer was off the menu for Barb, as she is gluten-free. Jacek disappeared, and reappeared with cider in hand. This was presented to us, and each time our glasses were emptied, they were refilled. No great trouble in the heat we were facing! The other seemingly endless supply was of cake, or ciasto (chas-to). It is very hard to say no, when six varieties of cake are placed in front of you... I gave up trying to say 'no thankyou' (or nie dziekuje (n-yeah gen-kweer)) and ate the cake with every meal (breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea and dinner). In this house, the main meal of the day was at midday, and included two courses - soup and a main. Stunning food, beautifully cooked.

Speaking of food, the after-match function proved a culinary delight. (The reason for our visit to Poland was the christening of Barb's niece). But before I take you there, I have to tell you about the church. Around 200 years old, made from stones taken from a castle that was even older. This was a stunning Polish, Catholic church (all three things were a new experience for me). Situated off the main road, the church seemed to be a focal point for the community - the family we stayed with attended on at least two other occasions while we were there. It was right next to a huge graveyard, which was obviously well-used and well-cared-for.

So, on to the after-match function. It was about 5pm, searing heat, down on the main road on the first floor of a pub. On the table when we arrived were bowls of noodles. On sitting down, the bowls had broth added to them to make noodle soup. YUM! This was followed by a main meal, then I started to lose track. About every hour a new lot of food was brought out. There were hot sides, cold sides, cake, soup, mains, desserts, food, food food! The last serving was of a stew. I was persuaded to fill my bowl, and managed to slurp the liquid. I simply could not fit another morsel (for me, an experience I have never had before).

Now, of course, all this food was not served without an accompanying drink. I was reliably informed there were 12 bottles of vodka (or wodka). For 25 people. Some of which were children, and breastfeeding Mums. So there were about 18 of us for which the vodka was provided.

Imagine, if you will, a shot glass at every place setting. Behind the shot glass was a normal drinking glass for the juice (in jugs on the table). For each shot of vodka taken, you would follow up with a swig of juice.

I learnt two very useful words that night: polowa (pour - over) meaning half, and na zdrowie (nos - drou-via) meaning good health, or cheers. Every little while, Jacek would come around the table, filling the shot glasses. Shortly after, someone would raise their glass into the air and the others would follow suit. A resounding call of na zdrowie, and the glasses were emptied. In this way, nine bottles of vodka disappeared. (A lasting memory: from the end of the table, a plaintive 'Bar-bar-a, Bar-bar-a, na zdrowie. My friend did the team proud).

Poland was stunning. I'm really keen to go back one day, but know that I can never replicate our stay there. If we do go, I'm going to aim for Brzesko - out of the main centres with a great market, and a lot closer to the 'true Poland'. Na zdrowie!

Sydney or bust!

About four weeks ago, Alex sent me an email titled ‘time-wasting competitions’. On opening it he said that he had finally won one. Finding a spare moment in my busy day, I flicked a quick email back… ‘what did you win?’. The answer came back… ‘a weekend in Sydney’.

Wow! A weekend in Sydney… two weeks hence! That would require some arranging. Two weeks on, I put Liliane on her first ever flight by herself… all the way to Paihia. We then sat in the international airport for several hours (surprisingly relaxing) while waiting for our flight, which got later and later.

Finally arriving in Sydney we joined the rest of the winners waiting for the transfer to the Four Seasons Hotel. A tap on my shoulder preceded a surprising question… ‘are you Greta’? A cautious ‘yes’, and I discovered that one of my fellow winners was from Poroti – that’s just up the road from Maungatapere where I grew up. The perils of having an uncommon name – and looking somewhat like your mother! Yes, my fellow winner had recognised my name on the list, and then recognised me at the airport!

Off then to the Four Seasons Hotel. What can I say. Right on the entrance to The Rocks, and just across the road from Circular Quay. Convenient doesn’t even begin to describe it! So, a fast bottle of wine with Alex’s cousin, and off we went in search of food. At 10.30 on Friday night. I can tell you that the fashions at that time of night are the same as in New Zealand – short skirts, low-cut tops, and plenty of freezing flesh on display. And these haven’t changed since I was going out at 18.

So, food. A little difficult to find, and a little tricky at times to negotiate through the crowds of party-goers. However, a foray into The Rocks led us to the aptly named The Rocks Cafe. And what a great meal that was! Italian (are they all Italian restaurants in Sydney?), not much English was spoken by the various wait-staff. My potato and black olive gnocchi was divine… Alex loved his Linguine, and Helen couldn’t get through her fish and chips, but I can reliably tell you that it was delicious. That restaurant has been noted on our list for places to eat in Sydney next time we are there. YUM! Oh, and the cheesecake to finish was well worth it.

Saturday was an interesting mix of time on our own, and planned  activities. Planned was part of the competition winnings – an art and culture tour in Paddington. Also planned was dinner at Bel Mondo. But more about that later. Not so planned was a ferry ride to Balmain for breakfast (lovely!), and the quick shop at The Rocks market. I LOVE The Rocks market – the guy there with his aerosol paintings is just stunning. I have one, and each time I go to the markets I love to watch him create the paintings. It is a show in itself. So, after a quick shop in Balmain (one handbag), and an even quicker one in The Rocks markets (three necklaces), we headed back to the Hotel for our ride to Paddington.

Now, neither Alex nor I are great art critics, and our art tends to the colourful (me) or historic (Alex). So the art and culture tour through modernist galleries was…  very interesting. Stills Gallery had weird photos of scenes built for the camera by Maleonn and photos by   Petrina Hicks. Sabbia had an exhibition of ceramics and glass, entitled ‘Winter’. Unsurprisingly, everything was white. (I’m sure I’ve never had a white Winter – and pretty certain Sydney artists wouldn’t have either). But then, I’m no expert. The best piece looked like a piece of corrugated iron and it was bright, but where to put it… nope, nowhere even in our ultra-modern house.

So, on to Hogarth Galleries, and their celebration of indigenous art. This is where I really felt that the stunning newcomer, and so young, indigenous artist was on to a good thing. Brown and orange paintings, all surprisingly similar. Big canvases. Would I buy one? Not a chance. The ones in this gallery that did intrigue me were hidden away upstairs, and for not nearly as big a price. These paintings had the name of the artists written below – mostly in very shaky script, in some cases not as good as Liliane’s. The contrast between the obvious artistry with the paintbrush and the limited ability with writing their own name was just a little heartbreaking.

Australian Galleries was another interesting place, and again I wondered if we were secretly being laughed at (these people will think anything is art!). This gallery had rooms full of sketches by Jeffrey Smart – sketches that he had done in preparation for painting something. So, parts of bodies, different scenes, all jumbled up on pieces of paper that had been framed. And not a single actual painting in sight. But we could buy the book if we wanted – the book had the actual paintings. That just seemed like a complete swizzle.

The biggest shock to the system was at Sherman Contemporary Art Foundation. This was host to a black and white bouncy castle with a roof. We had to put matching suits on, and crawl into the space. While good for flips and forward rolls, I missed the art completely. Apparently it was a comment on something to do with cells. I didn’t realise that padded cells would be so much fun!

A final trot down the road took us to Sullivan and Strumpf. More paintings on the bottom floor, but the top floor was interesting. Plasticine models that told the story of an artist. Kind of like Wallace and Grommit, with a political statement. These I could relate to, if only from wandering from one scene to the next. It was a cartoon in slow motion.

Phew – art and culture done, we were free to head to North Sydney and see some of Alex’s friends. After a discussion there on the problems of men and big-screen TVs (they talk about them for ages, years, and never commit to a purchase. Take a lesson from a woman! Choose it, buy it, put it on the wall and make it work! Don’t talk about it!) we headed back to the city to get ready to go to Bel Mondo. OK, wow. Hard to find, but great food, lovely atmosphere, and the best ever waiters. Definitely worth going back to.

Fast forward to Sunday and it was Birkenhead Point (clothes) followed by the Fish Market (fish, chips and oysters). A quick trot to Paddy’s Markets to spend (literally) our last dollars on t-shirts for the kids, followed by a long trot back to the Hotel to collect our gear, join our fellow winners on the bus and head for the airport.

Each time I go to Sydney I like it more. This time was simply awesome.