Archive for December, 2011

Mandatory away from home food mention #2

I went to Pizza Hut. I think I might make it my mission to go to a one in every country I visit. Because I’m sad undoubtedly, and because I really like deep pan, but more than that, they’re like a cultural microcosm. In Indonesia, they served avocado milkshakes, in Mauritius, Tikka Masala pizzas, in Altrincham, hmmmm let’s see, other than pizza, garlic bread and lasagne, tres exotic.

Once the world of diplomacy has tired of me (quite soon I imagine), I might see if I can get me some funding.


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What a wheeze

Last week, playing pirates with the navy, this week, making small talk with judges. So far, UK diplomatic effort remains intact. But for how long?

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Parlez Vous Anglais?

I tried French but no-one understood me.

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Budget busting

Means that I stayed with the boss at the big boss’s house – he has a cannon in the garden.

Note to self: continue to be on best behaviour for fear of being fired – quite literally.

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P p p pick up a pirate (suspected that is)

Completely forgot to mention the major happening of my week before I left for Mauritius, so apologies as this is completely out of kilter (and date… but please judiciously ignore), but it went something like this*.

Boss: ahoy there, it seems we have ourselves a little pirate situation

Me: aye, aye captain sir, what will that be sir?

Boss: 7 suspected pirates captured by our good ole navy boys, set sail with dogs we must, to sniff out their stash and reportz as we find.

So the boss, the police, the dogs and me, we set sail on a wee boat to meet the big navy boat and finding our way thwarted (a rope ladder up the side of a ship that this lassie were nay for climbing), the boss he were brave n used the ladder, and the dogs and police and me, we were hoisted on – in a big rubber dinghy, like. The dogs they searched the vessels and I’s did the photographing and organising the media folk before hours and hours later, from down the gangway (note: not plank) came some suspected pirates and shiver me timbers, I tell’s you not one of them looked like Johnny Depp.

* what the hell kind of vernacular this is I have no idea, it was meant to be pirate but it ended up just ***t

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Mandatory away from home food mention

Most notable about Port Louis, apart from staying at the hotel where Princess Anne stayed (because it’s the only half decent one,

spin that wheel

not because my employers treat me like a princess, though they should clearly) was the opportunity to eat out, which regular readers will know is a bit of an obsession of mine, mainly because I do it very rarely in Seychelles – quality, variety and value for money being allergies well known to the local restauranteur.

VFM was lacking at the waterfront Namaste restaurant, but they had paneer to die for so I was happy. Better yet, was the Chinese above it, Grand Ocean, which me and the boss went to the next day and feasted on chilli squid and prawns and spring rolls and fried rice and…it was heaven. The only thing that would have topped the evening would have been sitting at a table with a lazy susan (yes, I’m that easily pleased), but that would have been sad as there was only two of us and well, I’m not sure the boss would have found it funny if every time he reached for more food, I gave old Susy a spin, though it would have amused me no end.

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Weekend waterfront

Port Louis, the Mauritian capital, is  a strange place. To be fair, I’ve never really had the time to properly explore, and am usually based on the waterfront, a tourist enclave that I’m sure is not at all representative of the real city, which seems like a hodge podge of development. Among the ugly office buildings are occasional flashes of what it must have once been like, a park full of Banyan trees, a palm tree fronted colonial building, narrow streets with local shops not much more than cupboards, all obscured by bad planning and choking traffic. I had two nights to spend there, though I was not alone. I was with the boss.

Best behaviour then. Oh, I’m sooo good at that.

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