Round the world

A voyage of discovery

Round the world is about one man’s voyage of discovery, of himself, the world and three star hotels. It is an irreverent look at European, American and Oriental idiosyncrasies and culture. There are those who will not be offended by it, but I can’t think whom.

They say that travel broadens the mind...but what do they know?

Sample chapter: A quick lunch

Gerard, the local French manager, decided it was time for lunch. He was the host of the meeting so he felt it was up to him to make sure they got through the agenda, had lunch and coffee at appropriate intervals, got to the hotel and so on. In order to make sure they did indeed get through the agenda he therefore proposed a “quick” lunch. After all they had a lot to get through and they wouldn’t want to spoil their dinner, which he assured them would be a special event. The meeting was being held at their factory in the unspoilt (apart from the factory) countryside, so they would have to drive to lunch. As he had grown quite used to Scandinavian “quick” lunches he was expecting a cold sandwich and a cup of coffee so he was a little surprised that they would have to drive twenty minutes to the nearest café.

Eventually they arrived at a quaint looking restaurant and to save time Gerard ordered the day’s special all round. They sat down at a cosy table with chequered table clothes and heavy glass tumblers. They were brought an aperitif “with the compliments of the house”. Then bread, then soup, then meat, then salad, then desert “you must try our special pear tart”, then…no, Gerard decided that they would have to rush so no cheese, just coffee, no cognac, they had consumed about half a bottle of wine each already and he thought they might become totally somnolent if they drank any more. And so, almost three hours later, they found themselves back in the meeting room. He assumed that this would mean dinner was off, but he had reckoned without Gerard’s unfailingly French priorities.

One of his colleagues asked what he thought of the frogs at the hotel. He honestly replied that he had not yet checked in and thought it a little strange that a Frenchman would make such a clumsy joke at his own expense. Gerard drove them to the hotel where they were assailed by the sound of several thousand frogs in the adjacent pond. He was rather glad he had not followed up on the frogs joke.

In the taxi from the airport he had impressed his Swedish colleagues with his fluency in French. Fortunately, despite their linguistic reputation, Swedes speak virtually no French so the con was easy. Indeed it was enhanced by the fact that the taxi driver was an immigrant and therefore assumed that he was French and started to imitate his pronunciation. As a gesture of international goodwill, he tried his best French on Madame. She replied in English despite every effort so he eventually succumbed. Two days later on checking out of the hotel he had got quite accustomed to her adequate English and was therefore a little flummoxed when she insisted on speaking French.

“But you speak such good English” he ventured.

“Merci, monsieur” she replied.

“Mais, aujourd’hui...” he began.

“Mais, aujourd’hui...je sais que vous n’etes pas suedois.” she said angrily. Suffering under the misapprehension that he was Swedish like his colleagues, the bloody anglophobe was quite happy to speak English, but only because she thought he couldn’t understand her. Almost as xenophobic as the Welsh.

After an hours drive, they arrived in La Rochelle and were led proudly by Gerard to what he claimed was the best restaurant in town. Too late he discovered that it was a seafood restaurant.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m allergic to seafood, particularly oysters.”

A horrified silence for all of two seconds until Gerard replied that he was probably just allergic to bad seafood.

“You have to eat live oysters. “ he advised. “You can tell by squeezing lemon juice on them. If they wriggle, then they are still alive and therefore OK.”

“Are you absolutely sure…”

“Bien sur. Watch this”

Reassured by the squeezy, wriggly demonstration, he tentatively swallowed one. Not bad, he had always liked them. It was just a shame the feeling wasn’t mutual. Later that night as he knelt with throbbing head and heaving guts in front of the lavatory bowl…