London - Do the Markets

Scooter seats at Camden Markets

To me, one of the best ways to get to know a city and its people is visiting the local markets. Think about it, most vendors selling at a local markets probably don't have a whole lot of capital, so the products they sell are likely to be home-made, locally produced or small quality purchase from wholesalers. So you can see food and products that are in season and typical to the area. The customers are likely to be local as well, especially customer for produce. Very few tourist would got to local markets to buy some fresh pork ribs. I think you get the idea, markets give a great taste to local flavor.

 This may not be true any more in a lot of cities, especially in the US, as supermarkets and shopping malls have replaced local markets. However, luckily, in Europe, you can still find vibrant markets. Some of them are still the main shopping destinations for locals and some of them have become tourist traps. Either case, it is a fun way to spend time, and the best part is that you never leave a market hungry, because there are usually so many different kinds of local foods for you to sample. As a bargain hunter and deal marker, I sniffed my way around town for markets.

Handcrafts at Camden Markets

London is a big city and there are so many markets in different areas. They all have their distinct flavors. Camden Town Market is more alternative and edgy; Borough Market is an international feast; Covent Garden Market is quite mainstream and touristy; Portobello Market in Notting Hill area is more posh (I didn't see the market in action, because the time when I was there, the street market was not open. However, I walked around those permanent shops and that was the impression I got). One travel tip, before you head over to the markets, make sure you check their websites to see if they are open, because not all of them are open all week long.

Camden Town Markets

The edgy side of Camden Town

If there is one word for Camden Town Markets, that word is "Overwhelming". As soon as I got off the Tube, I was surrounded by so many people and so much activity that I felt dizzy. Mind you, I grew up in China and it takes some serious number of people to overwhelm me! There are shops along the streets, endless shops of all kinds, clothing, souvenirs, accessories, body piercing, etc. I did a quick walk pass and reorient myself to start browsing from the Stables Market.

Remember the heritage

The Stables Market is on the site of a former railroad stables and horse hospital. Many of the stalls and shops are set into huge arches in railway viaducts. There is an antique market inside and each stand is a stable space with the original fences and stable number. The environment definitely adds a lot to the products they are selling, making them seem so much more authentic. Antique is just a very small section, what this market is famous for is Goth and cybergoth stuff. (No need to feel bad about not understanding the term of cybergoth. I had no idea either and had to look it up.) There are a few stores that will surely satisfy your dark or neon desire.

The mural at the market and two different looks at the market area

What used to be the stable, now an antique stall

Coming out of the Stables Market, you enter Camden Lock Market. It is a continuation of shops and stalls. No chain stores are allowed in the market, and you can tell that some of the vendors actually made the products they are selling, because they take such meticulous care of their stands. What I like most about this area is food. Of course, what else? London is a very international city and offers cuisines from around the world, Indian, Turkish, Thai, Chinese, Italian, Peruvian.... you name it. I think it also has something to do with the lack of delicious so called English food. I think the people that would get excited about kidney pies are far and few between. I stuffed my face with a long stick of churro filled with chocolate! I usually dip churro in chocolate sauce, but here they poke a hole in churro and put chocolate inside! Perfect for eating while wandering around.

Yum....

And the winners are chocolate filled churros!

Borough Market

Watermelon by the slice

I know about this market because Naked Chef Jamie Oliver shops here often. I heard that it is a big fresh market for meats, cheeses and produces. However, according to Wikipedia, it is way more than that. It is one of the biggest food markets in the world. Besides retail, which is the side I often hear about, it is also a wholesale market, operating daily from 2am to 8am! It is said to have existed since Roman time! Wow, and all I can think about is Jamie Oliver?! I was instantly put to shame.

The retail market only opens Thursday through Saturday. So it was not until I stopped by London again on my way home that I got a chance to visited this market. By that time, I had already seen many markets all over Europe, Budapest, Vienna, Munich, Florence, Lisbon, etc. and I was a little marketed out at that point, because all markets started to look the same and I wasn't as excited. However, I was still impressed by Borough Market.

While the other markets gave a closer look to local gems, there is a definite international flair to Borough Market. Thai spicy sauce, Sorrento ham, Turkish delight... you can taste the goodies from around the world! I loved walking amongst foods, smelling the freshness, feasting on the bright colors, and savoring every bit of sample I could put into my mouth. I almost grabbed a piece of ham that was being weighed on the scale for a customer. I thought the vendor was shaving pieces off for sampling! I was mortified, but I recovered, politely asked for a sample and walked away.

Beautiful English Roses at Borough Market

The market was marvelous! A perfect Saturday activity! If I lived in London, I am sure I would be there every Saturday and known by all the vendors as the free sample lady. Ah... all good things in life are free!

Sea of tomatoes

We mostly certainly can!

Covent Garden Market 

Covent Garden Market

Covent Garden market is very centrally located in London, next to Soho and near all the theaters. It all started with a fruit and vegetable market in the 17th Century. Humble market no more, it is now a nice building with shops, restaurants and cafes. It is also known for the performers on the square in front of the market. It is often quite lively with music or people cheering for the street performers. Like I mentioned, I found it to be a little bit too touristy for my taste, so I just made a very brief stop there.

London - The Royal guards

The Buckingham Palace, where it all happens

My fascination for London began as soon as I started learning English when I was still in elementary school. The text book my tutor used was New Concept English. It was a really popular English text book in the 80s and 90s in China. Like everything western we got in China those days, it was a couple of decades old already (first published in the 60’s). However, it was the golden standard English text book at that time. I'd bet you money that the majority of my peers in China have used that text book at some point. Anyway, it is very British, so not only did I learn British English (my tutor is somewhere crying now, I am sure, because of my heavy American accent. I was trained in proper Queen's English, but Hollywood movies hijacked my accent), but I was also exposed to all things British - history, geography, customs, etc. Through those cleverly written half-page texts, I was introduced to the great city that is London. I learned about the fire of London, the Big Ben, River Thames and above all the Queen that lives there. I saw Changing of Guards once on TV and thought it was the coolest thing. Looking back, I think it has something to do with the bright red uniforms and top black fur hats those guards sport. When I was growing up, the Chinese army uniforms were extremely boring and ugly. They were made from the cheapest of materials, no bright colors let alone fur! From that moment on, I had always wanted to watch the Changing of the Guards in person. My desire was quenched once and for all on my first trip to London.

I find this outfit quite sexy, don't you?

Trooping the Colour (I am writing about something in London, so I have to use proper English spelling – Colour instead of Color, boys and girls!)

Unbeknown to be, I arrived in London on the day of Trooping the Colour. "Trooping the Colour? What is that?" You asked. I had the same question. This obviously didn't make it to New Concept English text book. It is an annual ceremony held on the second Saturday of June to mark the official birthday of British Monarch. It is also called the Queen's birthday parade, though her real birthday is in April. This event, according to the British guy sitting next to me on the plane, is Changing of the Guards on steroids. OK, sold, I am going.

By the time I made it to my friend's place, it was already past 11 and the parade was supposed to start at 11am. People started to gather around Buckingham Palace since early morning. If there were not that many royal guards around the Palace, I think people would camp outside to secure a good spot to see the event. I wasted no time to hop on the Tube and head to Buckingham Palace. 

Sea of people but you can always spot the police

This is what I was able to see

I was greeted by mountains of people. The best spot I could find for myself was outside of the gate at St. James Park. It is the gate outside of Buckingham Palace gate. Yeah, that far out. From where I was, I could see mostly other people’s heads, shoulders and backs! Further away, there were many people trying to drape themselves on the fence to get a better view. I stood on my toes, raising my camera above my head and all I could make out were guards in red uniforms and black fur top hats standing still, waiting to leave. By that time, these guards had already done their marching and the Queen had returned to the Palace. “Lame!” I thought. Even if I came here earlier, I doubted how much more I could see. Nothing happened for a long time and I got totally bored.

The musical bunch

Fancy hats are big deals among fair English ladies. They use them at all important outdoor events.

Young Royal Guard in training

The gate in front of me opened and floods of people poured into the area in front of the gate to Buckingham Palace. Man, I guess you can never have too many gates between the royalty and commoners. I could see nothing and had no idea what was going on. I tried to ask people around me and they were mostly tourists like me and equally confused. The situation reminded me of a comic strip I saw. A person got nosebleed, and he raised his head in the middle of street trying to stop it. 10 minutes later, dozens of people stood next to him with their head raised trying to see what was going on in the sky. I was totally annoyed at this point.

The Royal Family. I showed the original zoomed photo with the cropped shot to give a perspective as to how far I was from the balcony

The Royal Air Force fly pass

Just as I was about to leave, I heard gun salute and cheering. There they were – members of the Royal family on the balcony of Buckingham Palace. They were so far away that I could barely make out female from male thanks to those oversized hats. I zoomed as much as I could but still only had pictures of little ant-sized people on my photo. I gave up taking photos of them and turned my attention to the sky as the fly pass of the British Air Force started. I saw two lonely planes flew across the sky. Then came 3 of different types and the grand finale of 9 planes. “What is this?” I said to myself “This doesn’t seem that much of a solute. Blue Angels put on a better show!” Totally underwhelmed at this point, I left. 

He is looking forward to the end of the event

Household Calvary drill at Hyde Park Barracks

When I was not looking for it, I had a much closer encounter with the Household Calvary. I was walking in Hyde Park and saw people in uniforms and helmets with tassels riding in a fenced area. “Hey, this looks interesting!” I forgot what I had planned to do and headed over that direction.

Hard day at the drilling session

There were 13 people on the horses and they were divided into two groups based on the color of the tassels on their helmets. 6 with red tassels and the other 6 with golden tassels. They all wore sharp blue uniforms and rode high on handsome black horses. The 13th person was the trumpeter, with red tassel on his helmet, but proudly riding a white horse at the back of the formation. I later found out that these soldiers are a part of the Blue and Royals regiment of the British Armed Force.

There was one most important person in the fence – The drill officer. He seemed short compared to all the soldiers on horses, but he apparently commanded the whole ring. One arm behind his back, and a pair of white gloves in hand, he stood super straight. On the other hand, he held a pointing stick. He constantly used the stick to point at the person who was not doing a good job. He would yell out the next formation and those pretty horses would change from trot to gallop and from 4 lines to one line, etc. I am pretty sure what I saw was what they usually do at Changing of the Guards or Trooping the Colour. I was catching up on what I missed in a much up close and personal fashion. I stood so close to the fence, several times, I locked eyes with some horses briefly. After watching the drill for 20 minutes, I left satisfied, thinking “I will be OK, if I never see another Royal Guard.” 

The last encounter

One should never say never. On my last day in London, I somehow ended up in Buckingham Palace area and it was around 11am, the time for Changing of the Guards. Now I knew it was going to be another tourist infested event, so I avoided the Buckingham Palace area, but instead walked along the Mall, the road the guards would use to access the Palace. I got some more close up shots of the red uniforms and this time, really ready to retire from my Royal Guards chasing career.

Guards on their way to their posts

This guy left his post, walked for 5 meters to the left and then came back. I guess Changing of the Guards comes in all different sizes and shape. Some big and some small.

Hostel blues

Lounge at Lisbon Home Hostel

I am no stranger to hostels. The first time was 10 years ago when I visited Europe with my B-school roommate. We were dirt poor students and a cheap bed was all we were looking for. I didn't remember much about it, but just how scared I was when my roommate had to leave early, and I ended up spending one night in a room with 3 guys. Being from China and never having spent a night with a guy in the same room besides my father and my brother, I was paranoid. I didn’t know of what, fearing they were going to steal my belongings, kidnap me and sell me as a sex slave or just rape me right there? Anyway, in my mind, it was highly dangerous for me in that room. As you might have guessed, those 3 guys couldn't have cared less about the fact I was a girl. They all passed out before I even finished wrapping myself up in those sheets. Don't laugh, the whole night, I kept a mug handy near my bed, ready to leap up at any moment to break someone's head. Fortunately, nobody got hurt that night. “I can stay in hostels by myself! It is no big deal!" I said to myself when I woke up the next morning. 

I didn't get to test my new found confidence until 6 years later when I went to Spain and The Netherlands by myself. By that time, I had been working for a while and could afford to stay in hotels if I wanted to, but I decided to stay in hostels, so I could meet other travelers and potentially even travel buddies. I did meet a lot of people at hostels, but the traveling together part never worked out for me. 

Fast forward to June 2010. I was planning a 2-month trip to Europe, I didn't think twice about staying at hostels. A, staying in hotels for 2 months is going to make a serious dent in my bank account; B, I will be myself and I want to be around people, so I don't come back a mute; C, I wanted to wander in Europe, and which wanderer would stay in a hotel? The decision was made and I hooked myself up for hostels.

As I hopped from one hostel to another, one thing became super clear to me, I am too OLD for hostels! When I was sitting in a hostel lobby using the wifi, I overheard the summer camp leader giving instruction for a group of 16-year-old on home stay etiquette. I felt like a dinosaur among puppies! However, I have to say staying at hostels added so much color to my trip and provided great stories.  

The good

As I had hoped, I met some very cool and fun people in different hostels I stayed at. I became good friends with some, and shared fun moments with others. 

Vicky is a cool girl from Argentina. She was in Spain for business and then decided to go to Italy for vacation. I met her on a wine tour organized by my hostel in Florence. We became friends instantaneously. We discovered our mutual love for food and then the rest was easy. We shared the most gorgeous meal together at Il Latini which was hands down my favorite meal on the trip and I was so glad to have shared it with a lovely friend. 

Sharing a meal at Il Latini with Vicky

I roomed with Micah in Venice. He is from Australia and like a good Australian traveler, he was traveling by himself in Europe for 8 weeks. He is full of enthusiasm and energy, I guess when you are young, that is the only way to be. Speaking of being young, I actually got to celebrate his birthday with him in Venice. Guess how old he is? OK, not 17, he is not that young. He turned 23! He is practically a baby! 

Simone and Helen are an Aussie duo that I shared room with in Lisbon. They were my party connection, because they refused to let me rest at night and insisted on dragging me with them to the hopping night life of Lisbon. They would have many tequila shots and then set the streets on fire with their flirty smiles. When guys started to make advances, they would then push them away saying “Hey, take it easy, Portuguesy!” 

The bad

The reason hostels are so cheap is because they are for young people. Well, most people refer to hostels as "youth hostels". While I think I still have the appearance of youth, um, mature youth, :-), I am definitely not 20 something any more. I have mentioned that I am too old for hostels and it is not because I am uncomfortable being around young people, quite to the contrary, I like hanging out with them. However, sharing living space with them is quite a different matter. 

I have very low tolerance to alcohol, so I have never enjoyed drinking that much. Those 20 something make a total career out of drinking, as if the whole point of traveling a long way to Europe is to drink! A lot of hostels have bars and discos onsite to facilitate the drinking. Budget travelers can usually find cheap booze in abundance here, and they don't have to worry about getting drunk and not being able to find their way back. And there is no language barrier and they can hit on the boy/girl they have been eying the whole time. Though hostels usually do a good job keeping the clubs away from the bedroom area, you can hear people walking, talking, and flirting in the hallway all night long. Just as you are about to finally fall asleep despite all the noises, your roommates come back and the piercing florescent light can burn your eyes even when they are closed! 

The very hippie Budapest Loft Hostel

I am not a clean freak and am pretty flexible, but sharing rooms at hostels have seriously pushed my limits and introduced me to some new standards. 

When I was in Budapest, I stayed at this very cozy hostel that was converted from a loft unit on top of a residential building. It is very small with only 3 rooms that sleep 18. As soon as I walked into my room, I noticed the bed by the door. There was no sheet on the bed but instead a pile of clothes. These clothes were oddly in ball shape, as if they were all dirty clothes that used to be jammed in a backpack and now they were finally free, but the dirty still held them in shape. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Midnight came, the bed was still empty, “It must be an empty bed.” I thought and rolled over to sleep. The next morning, I woke up and was surprised to find a person plugged himself in that bed, with all the clothes around him and plus one. There was a pair of jeans half standing by the bed. He must have walked out of this pair and jumped right into his pile of clothes. And… and there is the smell. It was strong, pungent and reminiscent of a mixture of cumin and other kinds of exotic spices. OH…NO… where do I know this smell from? It didn’t take me long to recognize the smell. It was on Seattle buses that I sometimes encounter such smell which always accompanies the arrival of a homeless person! Later I found out that he is from Australia and has been traveling for two years! So have his clothes! Let’s just say for the rest of the time there, I looked forward to him not being in the room. 

The ugly

Just when I thought I have seen it all, then there was the last straw. 

I stayed in a 5-person room in a hostel in Florence. The last night I was there, 4 Brazilian college kids moved in together. When I got back from dinner around 10:30, they were just waking up from their nap. 

“So, looks like it is going to be a late night for you guys? Ready to head out?” I said to one of the guys.

“Yeah, we are all ready! Look...” He pointed to the table. OK, these boys are ready, several 6 packs, 3 bottles of wine, and two bottles of vodka. “You should join us!” He extended the invitation. 

“Oh, no, no, no, thanks! You guys go and have fun.” Are you kidding, drinking cheap alcohol with college kids? I am not going to start that trend. 

They filed out around midnight and as soon as they were out of the room, their voices filled the hall way and then spilled into the street and faded… or maybe I was fast asleep to hear anything.

Noises, commotions, oh, they were back. I didn’t bother to open my eye. I could hear them talking but it seemed only two people were back. My bed moved and I could feel someone climbed into the bed above me. Yeah, don’t be surprised, these are bunk beds! Then the door closed and one person left.  

The room returned to silence again. I rolled over and tried to resume my sleep. Two minutes later, the silence was broken by a few coughs and then some strange sound, the sound of vomiting! What? Wait, what? This kid was throwing up on the bed above me! I opened my eyes and sat up. Even in the darkness I could see liquid gushing down the wall beside the bed reaching all the way on my sheets. I was disgusted, angry, but more than anything else, shocked beyond belief. I didn’t know what to do at that moment, but sitting in the darkness and staring at the wall. Luckily, his friend came back and got clean sheets for his friend and me. I moved to a different bed and ran out of the hostel first thing in the morning. 

Too old for hostel? 

OK, I said the Florence incident was the last straw, but the trip was only half done and I still needed to move on. It was quite uneventful until I got to Lisbon. 

I came back to my hostel room of 4 at 11:00, ready to call it a night after a long day of walking around and nice dinner at Barrio Alto. My other two roommates, Simone and Helen, AKA Aussie party girls were just getting ready to start their night. We chatted about our days and they opened their backpacks to show me all the gifts they bought that day. Just as they were savoring the bargain they had got, the door opened and in came a skinny short guy about my height in his 60’s. He walked directly to the 4th bed in the room. All 3 girls stopped the conversation mid-sentence and watched this guy as he walk across the room. 

“So are you our roommate?” Helen, the trouble maker asked, as Simone and I tried not to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I stay in this bed.” The guy answered in English with a heavy accent.

“What is your name?” Helen went on.

“Rafael.”

“So where are you from, Rafael?” 

“Italy, from Milan” 

“Rafael from Italy, we have a custom here, when we have a new roommate, we all take a photo together.” Helen pulled out her camera and motioned the poor guy to come over.
At this point, us girls couldn't hold it anymore and all broke out laughing. Rafael looked puzzled at first but then joined us laughing. Thanks to Helen, we had this precious moment documented on film!

Simone, I and Rafael! Roommates!

“Rafael, are you traveling by yourself?” I asked him, since we are practically friends by now. 

“No, I travel with my wife.” His answer was much to our surprise. 

“Where is your wife? How come she is not with you?” Now I am really curious.

“She is in next room.” More surprises. OK, first of all, if you are traveling with your wife, why don’t you get a room in a cheap hotel? The cost is probably the same as buying two beds in a hostel. Secondly, how can you not request to stay in the same room with your wife, even though you have to share the room with two other strangers? I guess I don’t live in Europe and will never understand their way of thinking. 

Ok, now we know his is married and traveling with his wife. All of a sudden, he seems less creepy. However, that still doesn’t change the fact that he is old. Maybe he just looks old?
“Rafael, do you have bambinos?” Instead of directly asking how old he was, Simone was tactful and started asking about kids. 

“Yes, bambinos, two.” He answered with a smile. 

“Do you bambinos have bambinos?” I followed up.

“Yes!” Ah, great, we are sharing a room with a Grandpa! I thought I was too old for hostel, but obviously, by European standard that is not the case at all! So maybe 60 is the new 20!

Where have you been the whole time?

This is the question I get most often these days from my friends. Well, can I blame them? I took off for two months, besides the occasional status update via Facebook, I was not around the whole summer. Also, I have been dragging my bags around with me, jumping on planes and off trains all over Europe, even I, myself, have trouble keeping track of all the places I have been, let alone other people.

It was not until I finally got home, did I count the countries and places I have been. So here are the stats: (I know that I can make all kinds of charts and graphs with it, but I will leave it for another day)

• Total travel time: 59 days (6/11/10-8/10/10)
• Total distance traveled: 4,600 miles (only within Europe, if I include my flight to and from Europe, I would have traveled for 14,000 miles)
• Places visited - 8 countries 12 cities

View Ally's Europe Tour 2010 in a larger map
• UK (London)
• Germany (Berlin, Munich) 
• The Czech Republic (Prague)
• Hungary (Budapest)
• Austria (Vienna)
• Italy (Venice, Florence, Rome)
• Portugal (Lisbon, Porto)
• France (Paris)

• Favorite place: Budapest. Unlike most of the other cities I visited on this trip, Budapest is not a huge international tourist destination, so you don't get surrounded by shops and restaurants that are catered to tourists. It is also a big city, so can easily absorb all the tourists that do come to visit, so you don't feel like every other person you meet is a fellow traveler. As a result, you have a chance to eat, relax and hang out just like a local. And let me tell you, the locals have a pretty good life here! There are countless spas that you can easily spend a whole day there; beautiful parks offer shade during the day and become incredible music venues by night; delicious food at affordable price all around town. Maybe because they have such nice lives, Hungarians are very sweet. Every time I pull out a map, someone immediately offers help. 

Ok, this is just a quick summary. I am going to fill out all the details in the coming days. I know procrastinated and should have posted stories about my travel as I was traveling. However, think about it differently, I lived in the moment when I was traveling and now I get to relive my travel again through my travel blog.