De Efteling

De Efteling, in the Netherlands, claims to be one of the oldest theme parks in the world. Hard to resist a visit, when it’s a public holiday, the weather’s fine, and you have three children to entertain.

The entrance hall is suitable spooky and impressive.

Equally impressive is the interior of the construction.

This “flying” Pagoda was a good place to start, giving us a view of the whole park, and what strikes you immediately is how green the whole place is.

The attractions are integrated into a huge area of woodland, which not only creates an appropriate fairytale atmosphere, but also provides some much needed shade on hot days. Disneyland in Anaheim, good as it is, lacks this aspect and can at times feel like wandering around a large car park.

Many areas of the park feature strange little baroque buildings through whose windows you can peer to look at, for example, a class of schoolchildren supervised by a frankly terrifying teacher.

No wonder one of the kids has chosen to calm his nerves by surreptitiously taking hits from a bong.

Here’s one of the more distinctive characters, “Long Neck”. Can you guess how he got his name?

There is an interesting section on De Efteling’s wikipedia page about the extent to which Disneyland, which opened three years after the Dutch park, was inspired by it, and confirmation that the designers of Disneyland Paris paid a visit in search of cultural tips. But the influences run both ways: Carnival Festival is clearly a rip-off of homage to “It’s a small world”. Look, the peoples of the world greet you! The wine-drinking, can-can dancing French:

The beer-guzzling Germans:

The Japanese, who all wear glasses and have buck teeth.

And who take part in bizarre, Society-style body-melding sumo.

One of the rides, “Dreamflight”, featured some impressively imaginative and detailed models. Sadly I had neither the time nor the inclination to play with my camera’s manual shutter settings to get some non-motion blurred photos. On the other hand, I got some rather nice impressionistic effects.

The most recent and most spectacular addition is the half-hour show Ravelijn. I’d read about this on another blog last year, and was glad we could make time for it during our visit. Moustachioed, black-hatted villain captures a lovely maiden.

A brief video explains how (as expanded upon in the accompanying TV series) a group of children stumble upon the entrance to the town in an enchanted wood. Once through the portal they are magically transformed into five knights. Here they come!

Oh no, the villain has a secret dragon!

With several heads!

And wings!

And he’s turned one of the peasants into an evil Mini-Me Dragon!

Only by working together as one can the five knights defeat the dragon. Behold its death throes!

Victory!

And the damsel is reunited with her owl.

These are just a fraction of the attractions on offer. Give it a try if you’re in the area, even if you don’t have munchkins in tow.

Toy Story

The Nostalgia Toy Museum in the town of Godshill on the Isle of Wight was quite a trip down memory lane for me. I already knew about their impressive selection of Star Wars memorabilia. Look, the Cantina Playset (lightsaber-severed limbs not included)!

Look, both versions of Snaggletooth! (I used to have the red one, myself).

Ah yes, Princess Leia. Heroine and role model for a whole generation of girls starved of any other female characters in the Star Wars films. Experienced diplomat, courageous Rebel leader…oh wow have you seen what you can do with her hair?!

And then I noticed the non-Lucas items. I used to have one of these Superman dolls (“No, no, it’s an ACTION FIGURE!”). I remember accidentally breaking off one of his arms once (so much for his “invulnerability”) and being so pleased when my Dad fixed it that I left him a thank you note the next morning while he was having a lie-in.

I also had a Hulk, although I don’t think he had this shirt. Note the description “Full of loveable ugliness”.

I never had a Batmobile as far as I can remember. At least, not an Italian one.

Much less a Chinese train which makes an exciting whistle.

It could have been worse. I could have been stuck with having to dress up dolls in swinging ’60s clothes.

And doesn’t “Paul” look happy? Look closer at the booklet, where his ensemble is described as “Motorway Man”. Sounds slightly sinister, if you ask me.

Chuckleheaded yoppul

This helpful glossary of Isle of Wight dialect was printed in the latest issue of the Wightlife tourist guide.

Note, among others, their word for “bee”.

Garlic beer

This is wild garlic.

There’s a fair amount of it on the Isle of Wight, which is why it’s no surprise that there’s also a Garlic Farm there, selling all manner of garlic-infused products and ingredients. Do you think you can guess which one I bought?

Look, there’s even a clove of garlic nestling inside the bottle neck.

And how was it? Well, garlicky.

Really garlicky.

It was a pleasant enough and refreshing drink on a spring afternoon, but you have to be a major alliophile  to drink more than one of these.

‘t Zilte

Restaurant ‘t Zilte (two Michelin stars) changed address almost a year ago, moving from the small Flemish town of Mol to its current position atop one of the newest and most striking additions to the Antwerp skyline: MAS (Museum Aan de Stroom). A clever mix of red Indian stone, rippling glass and signature “Antwerp hands”, it houses a large collection of art and historical artefacts relating to the port area.

We arrived early and after a coffee and a quick look in the museum shop we wandered back towards the historic centre of Antwerp, to browse in the old shops…

…and soak up the romantic atmosphere.

Back at MAS by midday we made our way to the top of the building and took a moment to admire the rain-drenched view

We were the first to arrive, although by 1pm the place was packed. We admired the ring-shaped charger while we perused the menu, finally opting for five courses (seven and three course options were also available).

Amuse-bouche number one appeared: churros with a mushroom dip. A pretty wacky opener, but fun and tasty.

Then, sauerkraut mousse topped with marinated salmon, and a white celery crunch with rocket. The mousse was chilly and still a little solid in the centre, which made me think it hadn’t quite had time to fully defrost.

Goat’s cheese and beetroot.

A Bloody Mary. We were warned to place the whole thing into our mouths so as not to make a mess with the liquid centre.

Radish, grapefruit, yoghurt and mustard. A little bitter for my palate, although I guess you have to expect that with grapefruit.

And finally, something of a triumphant climax to the first movement: chili con carne. Note the tiny slivers of pepper, fragments of popcorn, and the black bean snake.

Another waiter brought us a selection of bread (note the black cotton gloves, to avoid soiling our bread with his filthy, sweaty fingers).

First course: raw shrimp and sea bass with watermelon and mushroom. At this point it became clear that the elaborate visual nature of the dishes wasn’t confined to the starters. It must take at least as long to plate up one of these creations as it does to actually cook it.

Halibut with anchovies, and a white bean and garlic foam. For me foams at this point are so out of fashion as to be almost retro (I mean, they’re so 2008!). Or maybe they’ve gone beyond being the latest gimmick and have now just become a standard part of a chef’s repertoire, like jus or emulsions? Anyway, it tasted lovely, and the fish was perfectly cooked.

Carpaccio of Chianina (Italian beef) with potato, morel mushroom and burrata. Gorgeous textures and flavours, and a little surprise. At first glance I thought that the orange disc was a chunk of carrot, but it turned out to be egg yolk. The tiny fried onion rings added some zing to contrast with the egg and potato.

Pigeon, slivers of oyster (lurking under the parsley), a terrine of pigeon liver and kidney, and white cabbage with black radish.

At this point the waiter stopped by and said “Can I seduce you with extra cheese?”. At first I was a little unsure how to respond, but before I could slap him in the face for his impertinence I realised that he was asking if we wanted a cheese course before dessert. We politely declined.

Dessert number one: chocolate, yoghurt, limoncello. Yes. Ticks all my boxes, thank you.

Dessert number two: strawberries and basil ice cream. Shame they dropped the plate and had to glue it back together again.

Then a trolley arrived and we were asked to choose from a selection of mignardises to accompany our coffee.

Here’s my selection, including marshmallow, green tea cream and meringue.

And my wife’s maccaroon, caramel jelly and coconut and blackberry.

Self-portrait with espresso.

And so ended one of the prettiest meals I’ve eaten in a long time. Antwerp now posesses a restaurant on a par with its globally renowned fashion designers.

No-go area

This morning a tweet from Drew McWeeny caught my eye. He’s subsequently deleted that tweet, so I can’t quote it exactly, but he was commenting on the recent election results in France and Greece, and he said something about both France and Greece having elected Neo-nazis. I (and several others, I think) replied that France had in fact just elected a socialist president. He replied apologising for the confusion. It seems he had read a comment from someone else which confused socialism with National Socialism, put two and two together and came up with Nazi. He tweeted a retraction, so no harm done.

What stayed with me for a while afterwards was the hashtag he’d put on the original tweet. Again, as he’s deleted it I’m relying on my own, not exactly fautless memory, but it was something like #notagoodtimetovisiteurope.

Now I’m sure he put this on with tongue in cheek. I don’t think he or anyone else would seriously turn down the chance to visit France solely because a right-wing government had been elected. Or would he? Would you? As a tourist, does it make a difference to your enjoyment of exploring a country if you have major ideological differences with the current administration?

I’ve heard people say in the past that they didn’t want to visit a particular country because they didn’t want to support or appear to condone an oppressive regime, as if visiting, say, China means that you’re turning a blind eye to their human rights violations. I have two problems with this. One, people travel to foreign lands on holiday for many reasons, like a desire to see a different culture, see their monuments and landscape, meet the people, eat the food. No one I know thinks to themselves “I approve of Sweden’s progressive government, which is why I’m going to fund them with my tourist pounds/dollars/euros”. Two, even if you say that you don’t want any of your money to go, however indirectly, to a government with which you disagree, then you’re going to have to be very careful with your shopping. Object to China? Try buying a consumer product which isn’t made there. Issues with Israel? Pay attention to where your fruit and veg comes from. Not easy, is it? And, I’d argue, not very effective either. If you look hard enough you can find something to object to in pretty much any country you can name, but I don’t see that as a reason to stay home.

In fact I’d say that it makes it all the more important for people to go there and interact with the locals, exchange ideas, and spend your money there. After all, some of your money may end up in government coffers, but some of it will also benefit the people who may desperately need it and who aren’t necessarily to blame for the state of their country.

I despise Silvio Berlusconi and everything he stands for, but that didn’t stop me living in Italy for a year and visiting regularly afterwards. I went to the US last year, but if I’d decided to go a few years earlier I don’t think the presence of George W. Bush in the White House would have put me off. Now there are some places I’d think would be fascinating to visit but feel that I can’t simply for safety reasons. I’m thinking of various places in the Middle East and Africa. And there are places like North Korea which would also be interesting but where the restrictions imposed on tourists are so heavy and the freedom to move around, take photos and ask questions is so limited as to almost defeat the object of travelling there.

But politics is usually a fairly transient thing and often increasingly removed from the inhabitants’ day-to-day lives, and I don’t think it should constitue a serious barrier to those wishing to broaden their minds and expand their horizons through travel.

Dressing up

Yesterday we made a return trip to the Japanese garden in Hasselt where they were celebrating Children’s Day. A local Japanophile cosplay organisation took the chance to come along and strut their stuff, dressed up as various characters from manga and anime. Not that I recognised any of them.

The young lady in this photo must have been freezing. I had a jumper and jacket on and I was cold.

Every now and then they’d switch into character and strike a few poses for the cameras (mostly their own). I can see the point of this if you’re going to take part in a show of some kind, but to make all the effort to dress up and then just to hang out and chat among yourselves seems a bit of a waste.

Then a long came this lady with her little entourage. At first I thought Lady Gaga had stopped by to shoot a video, but then I realised it was a married couple using the gardens as a picturesque backdrop for their wedding photos.

I love the head-piece. Only afterwards did it occur to me that maybe her religion forbids her from showing her hair.

A Vision of Britain

A page from The Sandman (which also reminded me of this Fry & Laurie sketch and this scene from The Cable Guy), in which an English man accompanies his American girlfriend to one of those Renaissance Fair-type events where she is working. Repelled by what he sees as the depressing and inaccurate kitschness of it all, he heads for the bar.

“What’s your name?”

“They call me Cordelia, milord”

“No, they don’t. And I bet in real life you don’t sound like that either. Anyway, Cordelia, I’m going to give you these two fifty dollar bills. You, for your part, will bring me beer. And I never want to hear you shout ‘Huzzah, twenty pounds for the king!’ again. Or hear anything else out of you. Don’t call me thee or thou or milord or any of that. Just bring beer. And if some wight who fancies himself a minstrel looks like he’s coming me-wards to play a gladsome melody, then head him off before he gets here or I’m liable to shove his lute where the sun don’t shine. And when I have finished drinking my beer, you get to keep whatever’s left over from the hundred. Got it?”

“Got it, boss”

“That’s me girl. It’s probably cold beer, isn’t it?”

“You can let it warm up”

“It’s not the same”.