Author: misschryss

Ejo #50 – Things I Hate About Dubai #3 – THE COFFEE

January 31, 2014Food, Learning About Dubai, Travelal quoz coffee, coffee, coffee in dubai, Dubai, Things I hate about dubai, tom and serg, tom serg, tom&sergmisschryss View all 10 comments

Dubai is the king of chains! King of brands. Restaurants, clothing stores, hotels. And of course, coffeehouses. Starbucks, Costa, Cosi, Caribou, Second Cup, Gloria Jean’s, Segafredo, Tim Horton’s and more abound. Blah blah blah. The city appears to have a deep and abiding aversion to anything small and unique – preferring instead to fortify itself with (supposedly proven) café after cookie-cutter café, oozing lack of personality and same-sameness.

Now, I know it might sound a bit snobby to turn my nose up at these coffee brands. In fact, I don’t care how it sounds. Am I a coffee snob? Yep! I’m Melburnian. If you don’t know what the connection is, you might as well stop reading here. Where I come from, coffee isn’t just a shot of caffeine but an actual artform. And if you think I’m talking about cute little pictures of elephants or butterflies in your foam, again please stop reading here. What I’m talking about is the barista, a person properly trained in the craft of making coffee, actually taking pride in every single cup they produce. In my opinion, if you serve me the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life one day and then a crappy cup the next, you make bad coffee. Simple as that. Quality is not just about perfection, it is about consistency. And I feel that the reason coffee in Dubai is so dreadful is that people aren’t being trained to make it. But that’s a whole other ejo.

In over five years, only two places have come close to fulfilling my need for a great milky coffee. One was Brunetti’s – yep, the Melbourne joint. They didn’t make awesome coffee, but it was generally consistent. And in a city where that’s rare, it counted. Alas, Brunetti’s has recently closed. The other place that served really good coffee for a little while was a café called Raw that imports and roasts their own beans. Unfortunately, the operative word in the previous sentence is “served”. Their consistency was a joke. And so I stopped going.

Something that really bugs me about coffee in Dubai is that regardless of whether you order a latte, cappuccino or flat white, you get the same damn coffee (albeit in a different sized or coloured cup to differentiate between the styles). This infuriates me. The nuances of the different types of milky coffee are numerous, but unfortunately the guy behind the machine at Costa hasn’t been taught that. He hasn’t been shown that when you froth milk the correct way you end up with three layers in the milk jug. The hot milk at the bottom, the micro-foam (which for me defines a latte) in the middle, and the stiff peaky froth at the top (the stuff that should get spooned onto the top third of a cappuccino). Invariably the contents of the jug simply get poured into a cup and served to you as whatever it was that you ordered. And it seems that the majority of coffee punters in Dubai don’t know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino either, because they keep paying for coffee, milk and a thin, mealy layer of foam on top. And paying top dollar for it. An average cappuccino in Dubai costs between 17-24dhs, approximately five to eight Aussie dollars. That’s bad enough, but when you have to pay that for a crap cup of coffee, it’s enough to make your blood boil.

So, as you can see, my experiences with coffee here haven’t been the best. Which is why when I saw a magazine cover a couple of months ago with a picture of a bearded man wearing a butcher’s apron and the words, “This man knows good coffee,” my heart leapt a little bit. Oh joy! I flicked through to the article and was quite excited to read about a great new café that was soon to be opening in the Al Quoz neighbourhood of Dubai. For those of you who don’t live here, Al Quoz is a rather industrial area of town, mostly known for car dealerships, factories and (of late) art galleries. In fact, it’s the perfect place for a start-up. My excitement levels were cautiously rising. Could it be that after five years of crappy caffeine, at last someone who “knows good coffee” would be making his way into the city (and straight into my heart)??

When I went home I hopped online and did as much research as I could about this upcoming café (this might show how sadly scarce good coffee is in my everyday life). It all looked very promising. Interviews with (Aussie) Tom Arnel and (Spaniard) Sergio Lopez, gave assurance that they were here to provide a quality product, expressing a desire to work against Dubai’s proclivity towards “mass-produced” and “franchised”. Music to my ears.

A week or so after they opened, I dragged David along to sample a cup of their joe. Sadly, my first impression of the place was that, despite the promises to be “different” it was a very typical Dubai restaurant opening. A huge, cavernous space outfitted with industrial design. If Tom and Sergio were going for the antithesis of the Dubai café, if they were going for an antidote to the “Dubai-ness” which they stated they were overwhelmingly “frustrated with”, at least where the interior is concerned, they failed miserably. The inside of Tom&Serg is, for me, the definition of Dubai. Strike one.

We ordered two cappuccinos and sat down at a bench by the window. While we waited we read their policy on serving coffee at <65ºC. I admire the intention. Burned milk is one of my absolute worst pet peeves when ordering coffee and I have been known to return to a café and insist they make me another cup at a lower temperature. Now, I’ve already said I’m a coffee snob and I’ll reinforce that here with the suggestion that the best coffee is actually served at a temperature closer to 70ºC. It’s hot, but not hot enough that the milk has burned, and not so hot that you’ll burn your tongue. You can drink it without waiting, but if you do wait a few moments you won’t be drinking tepid coffee (blech). Years and years of drinking amazing coffees in cafés in Melbourne as well as being the honorary tower barista when I worked at Melbourne airport have taught me that temperature is paramount. A lot of experimentation and a great deal of love have gone into my research. I don’t mind a coffee at 65ºC, but I most definitely prefer it a bit hotter.

Anyway, back to Tom&Serg. One cup was brought over and served to us, which we thought was a bit strange. I told the server that we had ordered two cups and he shrugged. And then, check this, he left. I was a little bemused, thinking the second cup must be on the way. Alas, this was not to be. There was no second cup. Strike two. And I can’t begin to tell you how much this pissed me off. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that everyone makes mistakes. But when you go around aggrandising yourself as being the opposite of what is wrong with Dubai, then you’d better make sure that you are great, in all respects. And for the guy to just shrug his shoulders and not even bother ordering us a second cup really got on my nerves. It typifies what inspired this “Things I Hate About Dubai” series in the first place. Our first experience with Tom&Serg was a bust. We walked out disappointed.

Being fair-minded people, we decided we’d give them another chance about a week later. We walked in and decided to order one latte and one cappuccino, so that we could compare the two. I declined the offer of chocolate on my cappuccino. That’s another of my pet peeves (yes, I do have a lot). Cappuccino is not a mocha. There should be no chocolate anywhere NEAR it. I don’t care if it’s Valrhona or chocolate that’s been grated between the legs of virgins (I’m sure such a thing exists somewhere in the world – just not on my cappuccino please). Anyway, I was saddened (but in no way surprised) when my cappuccino came out liberally sprinkled with offending chocolate. Strike three. I gently reminded my server that I had requested no chocolate and I swear to god, she looked like she was about to shrug and walk away. I think it was the wild, wide-eyed look which started to flower across my face that stopped her in her tracks and she hesitantly asked me if I wanted another coffee. I nodded slowly, my shackles smoothing down. Strike four (the strikes were coming thick and fast now).

So, while we waited, David and I shared his latte and when my cappuccino arrived, we shared that. I would be hard pressed to tell you the difference between the two cups. They were both milky coffee with a thin, mealy layer of foam on top. Ugh!!!!!! Strike five. When we’d finished the server came back and asked me how I liked the coffee. I shrugged (oh yes, the grasshopper becomes the master) and said I didn’t really like it that much. She knowingly nodded and said, “Ah, you thought it wasn’t warm enough” as though I was an idiot. Hackles well and truly raised, I didn’t bother to tell her that it just wasn’t a very good coffee. Strike six and we were out the door never to return.

It’s a shame that Tom&Serg didn’t live up to my (increasingly desperate) expectations of a great coffee joint. I have a feeling they’ll be fine though. Last time we were in Al Quoz we walked past and the place was jam-packed, full of hipster guys and gals sucking down their lukewarm coffees. Sure Tom&Serg will be fine. But what about me???

Ejo #49 – Before The Ejo (A Travel Disaster Trip Down Memory Lane)

December 27, 2013Italy, Travelitaly, siena, Travel, travel blog, travel disaster, travel writingmisschryss View all 2 comments

I’d been tossing up a few ideas for December’s ejo, but they were all cast aside when I discovered this old gem lurking in the depths of my computer. I do believe I am about to present to you my very first ejo, written over seven years ago. My first travel essay, written about my first travel misadventure, on my first solo trip abroad. Some of you will remember it. For others it will be new. I present to you the abridged, Editor’s Cut version of the essay for your holiday season reading pleasure.

Buon giorno tutti,

I am about to regale for you, a tale of travel misery and woe.

It all started when I landed at Milano Bergamo airport on the 28th April 2006. I’d caught an early flight from London, so had been up since 4.30am. When I landed in Italy, I took the shuttle bus from the airport to Milano Centrale Stazione where I was to catch another bus to Milano Garibaldi station to catch a bus to Siena. Simple, right?? Sure, except that someone told me there were no buses at that time. No problem, I caught a taxi (for €10, which was a bit of a rip off, but hey, I was excited about being in Italy). When I got to Garibaldi, I went to the ticket area and asked about my planned 2.15pm bus to Siena only to be told that it had been cancelled because of a national transport strike due to finish at 3pm that day – crazy Italians and their crazy striking. I asked about the next bus and was told that all buses to Siena that day were booked out. “OK”, I thought to myself, “there are other avenues for me to take”. I’d go to the train station across the street and catch a train to Siena. Who needs the bus! So I schlepped across the road with my two suitcases and my heavy handbag thinking, “Wow, this is shaping up to be quite the adventure”. Oh, little did I know! I got to the train station ticket area and waited in line for 45 minutes before being told that all the trains to Siena were booked out for the day. No more seats to Siena.

I started to panic internally, but tried to keep a cool facade. ‘Keep It Together’ became my mantra, whispered under my breath over and over again. My problem was that I’d booked a car rental in Siena that had to be picked up by 11am the next day. If I didn’t collect it, the reservation would be cancelled. I figured (after a bit more thought) that the best solution would be to hire a car from Milan to Siena. I walked 20 minutes into town carrying my cases and my big, fat, stupid handbag looking for car rental offices. I eventually found a Thrifty where they told me they had only one car left – a Smart car (you know, those ridiculous little boxes that seat two people and not much else). It was €55 for one day. I suspected they were trying to rip me off, and (thinking myself the rather savvy traveller) thought I should be able to get a better deal somewhere else (oh, the naivety).

I walked around town for another half an hour (yes, lugging my luggage) to discover that I’d somehow managed to arrive in Italy on a long weekend (who knew!!!), so all the cars were gone. ALL OF THEM! I hurried back to Thrifty and was relieved to find the Smart car was still available. However, because I was going one way I would have to pay an extra €45. This seemed quite ridiculous and, at that stage, unacceptable, so I figured I’d spend the night in a Milan hotel and get into Siena first thing in the morning to pick up my Siena car rental (are you following all this??).

I haughtily turned my back on Thrifty and returned to the bus station to ask about the earliest bus into Siena the next day. It didn’t arrive in Siena until 2.45pm, so I rang the Siena car rental office to change my booking pick-up time from 11am to 3pm. They told me that they closed at 12.30pm and that if I didn’t pick up the car before then I would forfeit the rental. ARGH!!!!

So I trudged across to the train station to find out if the trains left any earlier than the buses. But no, it was the same deal with the trains. The earliest didn’t get there until 1pm. Too late for me.

I had now reached desperation stage. Melting under the Milanese sun, I dragged myself – hot, shitty and sweaty – back to the Thrifty car rental place, resentfully forked out €100 and signed the paperwork on the bloody Smart car. It was the only way I could get to Siena in time to pick up my Siena rental. When they pointed out that Thrifty didn’t have an office in Siena, I waved the problem away. “You have an office in Firenze, 70km north of Siena?? No worries. Please just give me the car keys. Now!”

I devised a cunning plan (pay attention, now) to drive the Milan rental to Siena, sleep the night in my booked accommodation, drive the Milan rental to the Siena rental place, pick up the keys to my Siena rental, park it somewhere it wouldn’t incur a ticket, drive the Milan rental to Firenze, drop it off and then catch a bus from Firenze back to Siena to pick up the Siena rental from where I’d parked it and then drive to my villa in Tuscany. Brilliant plan, no?! Obviously I like to make life difficult for myself – but I honestly couldn’t think of another way around it. I had exhausted all other options.

I got directions out of Milan, but somehow managed to find myself a) in peak hour, long weekend traffic, b) going round in circles because the stupid signs didn’t make any sense, and c) driving like a maniac in order to avoid being murdered by what I had started referring to as Fucking Crazy Italians!!!!

It took me two, long and exhausting, hours to get out of Milan onto the highway for Siena. I literally whooped with joy when I was established outside of the city. It was, by now, 6pm and I had a 375km drive ahead of me, after having eaten NO FOOD for 14 hours, and being VERY TIRED INDEED and having a PRETTY BAD HEADACHE!!!! Still, things were OK. All I had to do was concentrate on the fact that I was driving a death-trap and that I was doing it on the wrong side of the road. Oh yes, and deal with the thunderstorm that decided to follow me along the highway dumping rain on me and my little jalopy, drastically reducing my visibility and traction on the road. And then, at about 11pm, I also had to contend with a 30km bumper-to-bumper traffic jam on the freeway due to roadworks into Siena. But I was heading in the right direction and I was happy.

So around midnight I made it to Siena, proper – absolutely exhausted and kind of hallucinating about going to sleep. I won’t even go into how many times I had just wanted to stop the car and transport myself back to Australia, back into my bed, safe and sound asleep. Let’s just say it was LOTS.

So, as I was circling the city it occurred to me that, whilst I had a street address for the small hotel I was staying in, I had no map and no directions. Minor problem after what I’d just experienced, quite frankly. “I’ll just drive around and find it,” I thought to myself. HAHAHA!!!! Have you ever been to Siena? It’s a city with a population of about 50,000. It’s freaking huge. Good luck finding a hotel if you have no idea where to look. This eventually dawned on me and I stopped at a large hotel to ask for a map. I found the street I was looking for on the map and realised it was inside the city walls, i.e. no cars allowed. So I parked close to where I thought the hotel would be and headed into the ancient city on foot to conduct a reconnaissance mission. I found myself delving deeper and deeper into the city, going into progressively darker and creepier little alleys – though by this stage the idea of being murdered, and my body being disposed of, was actually very comforting. Just as I was about to give up, resigned to spending the night in my “vehicle”, I looked up from my dragging feet and there it was. Hotel Antica Torre!! There was a note on the door with my name on it, with a key inside. I squealed a little and jumped up and down with sheer happiness at having found it.

I managed to find my way back to the car and dragged my suitcases along the cobbled street, probably waking up all the Sienese residents – but I wasn’t about to do anyone any favours by carrying them. I just didn’t have it in me at this stage. As I climbed up the stairs to my room, I could SMELL sleep!! I had a shower, and collapsed on the bed. I had very bad dreams that night!!

The next day was better. But I truly must be an arrogant and audacious individual, because I took the Milan rental car to Firenze with absolutely no directions, no map, and (even worse this time) no address. What is WRONG with me!!?? Once I got there, I just drove around in crazy circles (like a Fucking Crazy Italian – the streets of Italy no longer held any secrets for me). I stopped and asked for directions about twenty times, and then, lo and behold, I found the damn office and I dropped off the damn car, got on a damn bus to Siena, caught a taxi to the Siena car rental, drove to my villa and pretty much died of happiness.

Last year, David and I spent some time in Siena (still one of my favourite places in the world despite my traumatic experience). Why don’t you check out my photo series from our visit: Pedestrians Of Siena.

Photo Series: The Pedestrians Of Siena

December 27, 2013Italy, Photo Series, Photographs, Travelcandid photographs, pedestrians of siena, photographs, photos, siena, travel photographs, travel photography, travel photosmisschryss Leave a comment

During our trip to Italy in June 2012, we spent some time in one of my favourite cities, Siena. One day, after exploring the city’s labyrinthine streets, we stopped at a tiny little cafe and sat down for a couple of hours to enjoy a bottle (OK, maybe two) of prosecco. It turns out we were pretty close to the University, so even though it was a small street, it was quite the busy pedestrian thoroughfare. Enjoying the people-watching over the course of the afternoon, I decided to set up my iPhone and take candid photos of the people walking past. I’m assuming this is legal!!!!!