Travelog
This diary tracks our progress along the Silk Roads, with episodes appearing in date order, most recent first. You can get to earlier entries by turning pages at the bottom of the screen.
- Details
- Written by Ellen Winter
- Category: Travelog
Intense Aubergine and Tomato Stew/Puree, with lots of olive oil and garlic, as taught to me by Mehrnoosh’s Mum in Esfahan, Iran.
Feeds about 10.
Take 3kg aubergines and char really well over an open flame until black on the outside and soft all the way through. Peel off the blackened skin, which should come away pretty easily. Don’t use water or you will loose all the lovely smoky flavour. Using a big dish flat dish, chop the flesh until mushy.
In a big sauté pan fry about 3-4 heads (not cloves!) of chopped garlic in a generous amount of olive oil until golden and remove from the pan.
Heat about ¼ pint light olive oil in the sauté pan on quite high heat and add the aubergine. Also add the garlic, about 1tbsp of turmeric, and season to taste.
Reduce to medium/high heat. Cook, stirring frequently for 30 minutes, adding more oil if necessary. Meanwhile, puree about 1½ kg fresh plum tomatoes.
Keep cooking the aubergine and add the tomatoes. Cook for another ½ hour still on quite a high heat, stirring occasionally so it doesn’t stick. When I saw this being made it was more like a seamless flow of oil, turmeric, garlic and salt into the aubergine mix throughout the cooking, until it was judged intense enough. It’s a pretty forgiving recipe, it seems.
After about an hour total cooking time you can stir in 2 beaten eggs, or serve with fried eggs on top, if you wish. It is a really intense flavour, and a little goes a long way, although in Iran I was told it was traditionally “drinking food” from the north.
- Details
- Written by Andy Stone
- Category: Travelog
Thank you so much to all who hosted us, all the wonderful people we met along the way, and all our friends and family who gave us nothing but support and encouragement all the way through. It was one hell of a ride.
I'm sure more articles will appear as the dust settles and I begin to make sense of some of the things we have seen and experienced. Its all still a swirl in my head and I have few of the answers I was hoping for yet, and even more questions. But one thing I do know now is that we are all the same, the world over. Invariably kind and warm-hearted by nature, we allow ourselves to become scared of each other, and closed in, by listening to the fear peddled by our governments and the media they control. Divide and conquer is the classic strategy that will only continue to work for as long as we allow it. Here's to opening our hearts, minds and arms, loving our neighbours, and thereby dis-empowering those that seek to control us.
France. Germany. Czech Republic. Poland. Lithuania. Latvia. Estonia. Russia. Mongolia. Russia again. Japan. Korea. China. Hong Kong. Macau. China again. Laos. Thailand. Laos again. Thailand again. Laos yet again. China yet again. Kazakhstan. Uzbekistan. Turkmenistan. Iran. Turkey. Greece. Italy. France again. And soon, grey, sodden, neurotic England again.
- Details
- Written by Andy Stone
- Category: Travelog
We have struck gold again with our host, Patrizia: a wonderful spiritual woman with a passion for herb lore, Firenze and all kinds of interesting things. She has taken us to superb places that locals eat at where I was introduced to the perfect antipasto: a slice of tangy pecorino atop a slice of ripe yet still firm pear, all drizzled with honey (simple, perfect, just like Florence). She enlisted her beautiful daughters in a mission to cook Tuscan wonders for us (what these people can't do with aubergines isn't worth doing), taken us walking up Michaelangelo's hill for a top view of the city, and given us space in which to relax and enjoy. Oh how I love Couch-surfing!
Today we spent the entire day at the Pitti Palace and its extensive gardens, roaming around with perfect weather and a stunning picnic. It was all good but the wild strawberries atop fresh marscapone atop meringue that Ellen fed me were heavenly: I swear some of Botticelli's cherubs started singing to me.
We got to wander around some great museums today too that are part of the palace; the Silver museum was particularly mind-blowing not for its silver (of which there was very little) but for the rooms painted in the most incredible trompe l'oile, so effective I really couldn't tell you which parts were actual structural features and which were illusory.
Being a tourist in Florence is just so much fun, so easy, and the perfect way to kick back and celebrate the mammoth journey we have done. The really odd thing for me is seeing the tacky classical statues that litter the place just like they do everywhere these days, only these ones are for real! These are the ones the rest of the world apes, these are the ones that Donatello, Michaelangelo, da Vinci et al did by their very own hands out of the local marble, and they are just ridiculously good. Uffizi and Academia galleries tomorrow to end on a high, then we really must end this epic.
Look out France, we're coming in!
- Details
- Written by Andy Stone
- Category: Travelog
We boarded a northbound train with Ramona who was going to Rome, and said our goodbyes at Naples where our connection to Florence was waiting for us. The expensive but comfortable journey was very relaxing as beautiful landscapes of wooded, rolling hills provided a lush backdrop for my reflections, most of which revolved around how there seems to be a vital element of cohesion missing from Italian life. Never having been here before I don't know whether it was Berlousconi who ripped the guts out of Italian communities just as Thatcher did in England 20 years ago, or whether this has always been a nation of arrogant, self-obsessed individualists, of hot pants and cold shoulders, of aloof sneers and utter lack of a sense of brotherhood. After the all pervasive communal identity and warm-heartedness of Asia that has infused our journey from Russia all the way round to Greece it has been a shock to be somewhere where the men only care about their mothers and the women their husbands, and where children have learnt to swagger by age 4. This is not a universal phenomenon of course, we have met some lovely people and have always been treated very well, but in a general sense there does seem to be a sickness at the very heart of society. I guess it at least beats the totalitarian oppression of Iran but it is by no means a clear cut thing.
Passed through Rome: it was OK, looked just like Bath.
- Details
- Written by Andy Stone
- Category: Travelog
We woke to a magnificent day, sunshine and everything which is a new thing for us in Italy. Via some lousy local connections we arrived eventually in Paestum, a site housing remains from a pre-Roman village and which is home to 3 of the best preserved Greek temples anywhere in the world. Almost as soon as we disembarked it went, as Ellen notes, all a bit Wicker Man.
As we walked down a country lane we heard folk melodies from flutes and drums in the distance, all very pastoral as it competed with bird song, and much nearer to us there was a chap stood next to his van who was, just to hint at the lewdness of it all, gleefully masturbating. No matter, we were a little lost and there was no one else about so I politely introduced myself and asked the way to the temples. I'm pretty sure he was hoping for a different reaction from us, and certainly he appeared to miss a stroke or 2, but gamely pointed us (no, with his (free) hand, smutty) in the right direction. On discussing the episode with Ellen it turns out she was oblivious to it all, bless her, but she wasn't to miss out entirely as a few minutes later he came jogging past, stopped just ahead, reproduced Exhibit A and started waving it about again. As we passed, studiously ignoring his side of the road and suddenly finding the hedgerow on our side absolutely fascinating, Ellen cursed for not having taken a picture. Photographers!
We finally came to the house where the decidedly pagan music was emanating from and, ignoring the 'private' signs headed on in. By a neat piece of luck it turned out to be a 'festival of classical mythology and culture' set in sumptuous stately grounds with live music and free wine and food (well, I couldn't figure out how to pay, put it that way), and a friendly lively atmosphere although as stated earlier all a bit Wicker Man after our incident with the French Polisher.
The ruins themselves were really well preserved, huge and very evocative set as they were in a field of bright red poppies. The 3 temples were to Hera, Apollo and Athena, and while the Apollo one was the grandest and best preserved my personal favourite was Athena's, especially as we had missed a major temple of hers in Greece that I had been hoping to see.
A train and a bus took us back to Ramona's in the evening for some forward planning, for tomorrow we leave for Florence. I am expecting Tourist Hell but have felt a pull to that city for so many years I can't resist a glimpse. Anyway it is in the right direction (kind of) for France.