An anagram of 'Merry Christmas To You' - 'Curios? Hmm, Try Rosy Tea.'
Your support this season has been oh so gratefully received. We've met some truly delightful people, and caught up with some delightful people that we already knew. DELIGHTFUL. THANKYOU.
"TEA MAKES AMAZING GIFTS FOR THOSE THAT YOU LOVE AND FOR THOSE THAT YOU HAVEN'T GOT A CLUE WHAT TO BUY."
- TEAna tURNa (thats 2 tea puns in one name)
May we recommend our gift packs (Which come in three flavaz), for that perfect £10 present (i mean, who wants to spend more than £10? And if you spend less than £10, you're a cheap skate, frankly). They are available online, and if you live in Newcastle we will knock off the delivery fee when it comes to processing your payment. Also, the packs are available at Olive and Bean on Clayton street. Or Teasy Does it on Heaton Park Road.
We had an amazing day at Newcastle Christmas Market. So many lovely people came by to say hello. A day that reminded us how much we love Newcastle and its people.
This weekend we will be packing our NEW GIFT SETS!
We will be having 3 gift boxes this winter season. An Orthodox gift set containing a gorgeous Yunnan green tea, a fabulous Fujian white tea and an incredible Ceylon black tea. Also we will have our Black Tea set with the intoxicating kick of Quilliam Brothers Breakfast Blend, the citrusy delights of our Organic Darjeeling Earl Grey and the aromatic smooth maltiness of our Assam Dikom black tea. And, as it is, unfortunately, the season again, the Christmas Gift Pack will be back with a vengeance, containing three festive favourites.
As usual you will get a FREE infuser with the pack and a nice sample to try of sumfink else.
Things are moving nicely with the building for the Tea House. We actually have a bit of paper with official words on to sign n that. Which is almost a champagne moment. Almost, but not quite. Tum te tum.
BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG
Today i am talking about companies, corporations and chains.
SOUNDS A BIT SERIOUS?!! Bear with me; it isn't.
This topic will be addressed anecdotally. Though there will be not much in the way of comprehensible flow, there is one word that unites it all - 'EXPRESS'.
I start with the tale of a musical trip to the Burh of Eidyn, some 5 months ago...
'Twas nearing summer darkness, the moon light began to glow. Through the gentle drizzle, our hungry Pimptones did go. In search of grub, though nothing too dear, as with the current economic crisis you kind of have to watch the pennies you see. " 'Ere, look yonder, look over there. A 'Pizza EXPRESS' sign doth shine, doth glare." "But look!" I retorted "Just next door, it's a Private run gaff, called 'Paradise Pizza'"
Grumbling, mumbling, humbly they agreed, to support the underdog in our quest for a feed. So in to Paradise we five did trot, selected our table, chose our spots. Menu perused, drinks decided, we ordered our food with smiles and politeness.
So i sat.
In silence.
Feverish with excite.
Primed and ready to sate my appetite.
-Unfortunately, turns out Paradise is shite.
And it really was awful. We should've baulked at the sight of the peeling wallpaper, naff naff interior design, tacky laminated menus. But with the blindness brought on by my hatred of chains, i brushed all these little issues off as 'quirks'. Unfortunately, the food can't be forgiven for being quirky. It can only be nice or not nice. And it was not nice. And it cost the same as, if not more than, going to Pizza EXPRESS.
The owner, who had the obligatory 'Italian restaurant owner' image complete with FUNNY FOREIGN ACCENT, must've only been there to make the experience just that little bit more authentic, as he certainly wasn't there to maintain the high standards of his restaurant. And the waitresses were well aware of the crap establishment in which they worked, as they couldn't give a gnats doodle about anything. The pizzas were the worst i have ever eaten. Worse than Morrisons value ham and pineapple pizza, which is saying something. Grease and Salt were the 2 overpowering flavours.
Anyway, i was saddened by the whole fiasco. Because necks were stuck out and promptly guillotined and because places like that are ruining the small chance that small businesses have against chainy giants in city centres.
One of our party said - "They are successful chains for a reason." And it broke my heart. Because it's true. 10 points on offer if you know what the reason is.
ANECDOTE 2
Coffee.
We were waiting for a bus. Me and a person. In view of the bus station was an established coffee vendor. Starbucks was his name-o. I nominated myself to go on a coffee run. And run i did. I ran to find somewhere that wasn't Starbucks. Coffee XPRESS was his name-o. lesson learnt, I thought 'This looks nice. Not too scruffy. A touch of the tokyo modern about it. People inside, drinking. Which can only be a good thing'. And in i popped.
I was greeted by a lovely lady, who sounded possibly New Zealandy. She said "I'm sorry, i can only do take away". That was fine, i only wanted take away. The man after me didn't want only takeaway, so off he trotted, f-ing and blinding. I ordered a latte for me and an americano for the person. And paid the same i would've paid in the 'Bucks.
Heroically i returned to the person. And gave the coffee to her (yes, it was a her!). And i put my 24 sugars in mine, and started drinking. It was ok, though VERY weak. Her's, however, was vile. And she couldn't finish it. The woman in the coffee shop had made it by running water through the group head and the coffee until it was a full cup, then heated it by putting the steamer through it for a few seconds. That is WRONG. So either she couldn't be arsed to do it properly, or didn't know how to do it properly. Either way, it is unforgivable for a cafe with 'Coffee' in the title to not know how to serve coffee.
Here, again, my faith in private enterprises has made me look SILLY.
ANECDOTE 3
Buses.
Once upon a time, i was on a bus to London from Newcastle, on my way to catch a flight. 5 hours into the 7 hour slog, i realised i didn't have my passport. A useful item. So, i thought n thought, and realised the only way i could get it to London in time would be to put it on a bus or a train. So i called National EXPRESS and asked if they could bring it down. They said NO. I told my brother that they had said YES, and he wonderfully convinced the bus driver that National EXPRESS had said YES also. I met the bus driver in London with an 8 pack of nice beers, and everyone was happy. Though the bus driver was a bit jobs worthy and did try and milk it somewhat, by saying that it was his neck on the line, and that it would've been his job had he been caught, et ladeda, at least he did it. Alas, I missed my flight anyway and had to get there via other means, but that's neither here nor there.
SAME BUS COMPANY, but forward 2 years. I was queuing, having failed to print off my e ticket. The bus driver was looking at everyones printed e ticket, not scanning or writing anything. So i showed him my e ticket on my laptop screen. And he said i wasn't allowed on. Anger flowed through my veins, and out of my mouth. WHATS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU NOT MARKING A BIT OF PAPER, AND NOT MARKING A COMPUTER SCREEN? Well, it's company policy. And it needs to be paper to show that it's authentic, and so we can mark it so it can't be used again. IDIOT. (you can print 10 copies of your ticket if you want.)
Anyway, eventually i was allowed on, but i am sure he drove more angrily to try and make me hit my head on the window.
SAME BUS COMPANY, but forward 2 more years, to me and the person sitting in the bus stop considering coffee purchases. I needed to charge my phone, for emergency reasons. There were no sockets in the waiting room. The lovely person i was with went to ask the lady behind the desk if she could charge my phone. She said that she could. Whilst sitting with our disgusting coffees some minutes later, 2 girls asked if the woman had let us charge our phone behind the counter. We said yes, but it's for an emergency. They then proceeded to slag off National EXPRESS, as NE had refused to charge the girls' phones. (they were playing games on their phones)
UNFORTUNATELY... those two obnoxious girls are mistaking the person for the company. But who can blame them? The vast majority of the people that work for large companies do everything they can to hide behind the company, use it as a safety net whenever they have to make commonsensical decisions. There's no room for personality in large companies. The brand is the personality. And no employee should show otherwise. Because of this, whenever someone DOES do something against company policy, they then run the risk of being criticised, and they no longer have anything to hide behind. What the wonderful phone charger woman and the excellent passport bus driver did is the daring human thing, and fucked the company policy in favour of common sense. And for that I LOVE THEM. I got the phone charger woman a chocolate bar and told National Express that she was excellent.
A PLEA..
If you find anyone who is truly excellent in a company, someone who is a person not a drone, someone who WANTS to help you, not just helps you because they are told to, someone who has gone beyond the call of duty because they enjoy seeing a problem resolved, or enjoys receiving a thank you, OR if you eat at a fabulous restaurant, go to a wonderful little shop, find a cosy cafe that serves amazing stuff then SHOUT ABOUT IT. TELL EVERYONE. TELL THE PERSON IN QUESTION THAT THEY'RE MINT AND SHOULD KEEP AT IT. TWEETLE ABOUT IT. FACEBOOKEN IT. DO EVERYTHING IN YOUR POWER TO MAKE THEM KNOWN AND APPRECIATED.
Keep trying out the private operations, even if you cant say goodbye to the big chains altogether. Chains are soul-less, devious, manipulative and are turning our lovely city centres into clone towns. You get assured quality of goods and quality of service, that is true. And sometimes that is nice. It's safe. But i pity anyone who is happy with safe.
THE QUILLIAM BROTHERS TEA HOUSE (EXPRESS) WILL NOT BE SAFE. But in a good way. Not in a hard hat wearing/lawsuity way.
As you can see, this shows that if any of the 8 essential criteria are not running on High, then blogging is impossible. It also shows that i cannot create curving text on photoshop without it looking a little intoxicated.
So today, creativity is at an all time high, we are feeling inspired, we've got nowt on (schedule or clothing), the stereo is blasting the best of british prog rock, we're wired on tea, we have lots of news to report, energy levels are soaring and Craig David is working on something magical in the studio -
Thus, all conditions are perfect for Blogging.
It's a bit like the Planeteers, as all of them need to be present to create Captain Planet -
- If any one of them wasn't there, or wasn't firing on all cylinders, then the summoning would be impossible.
We've been on this project now for nearly 2 years.
Let's do a Q'n'A!
You - What's been achieved so far?
Us - Not much on the surface, admittedly. Our tea is selling well, we have learnt so much, and the web shop is running. We are doing stuff we didn't think we would be doing. Like stocking other cafes and doing tea lectures and serving tea at events and that. Which is all mint. But, yes, yes, it's not a tea house. And this frustrates and embarrasses us. Making us less likely to blog and more likely to hide. But the elongated tea house getting procedure has given us time to perfect the concept, improve our game plan and source all of our doohickies and whatnots.
You - Where is the tea house then, slackers?
Us - The tea house location has been secured. It is impossible for us to explain why this has taken so long as the circumstances are unique. When we unveil the location of the building, and the plans we have for it, you will see why, and hopefully you will forgive us. There is over 3 months of work to be done on the dilapidated building, and that will be beginning in November. So expect opening times around Easter 2012.
You - What shall we do in the mean time?
Us - Well, we will be updating the blog more often. Now things have finally started to move, we can begin making all the fun purchases and decisions for the tea house, and you will be the first to know. Apart from our mum and dad.
Tea wise, it is possible to obtain some from Olive and Bean in Town and Deli Fina in Gosforth. Or check our webshop for the full selection at www.quilliambrothers.com. Or, give us a shout through email, twitter(@quilliambros), or phone, and we can arrange a tasting session or something.
We will also be doing some markets and other such things in the near future, and will inform you, oh yes we will.
You - What weighs more, a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks?
Us - A ton of rocks, obviously.
You - Any other news?
Well we have a newish nephew that we didn't used to have. Our tea stocks keeps on swelling as we discover new delicious brews. We had a massive trip recently with all the Quilliams, which was lovely, and included a trip to the somewhat snobby, but otherwise deservedly legendary, Bettys Tea Rooms. We are beginning work on our christmas products. A china trip is still on the cards, but god knows when that will be happening. Our window display (whilst we renovate the place) will be EPIC. As will the new Vinyl Jacket video.
Here at QBHQ 'it''s hanging with some juddery hesitance, but with definite direction and the occasional major positive upswing.
We are still selling online, and FYI it is worth checking out our Makaibari 1st Flush tea, as it is that time of the year again. A serious serious cup of tea. Also, if you are in desperate need of tea, and are Newcastle based, Olive and Bean in town and Deli Fina in Gosforth are selling a refined selection of our mammoth stock. Plus it's a pleasure to visit them, even if you buy nowt.
Tea house wise, horses are being held still. We can't tell you how frustrating the experience is being, but believe us, if all the working and waiting pays off, and everything that has been arranged comes to light, life will be that little bit more special. For us, and hopefully for you.
In other News-
If any of you like the natty combination of ART and TEA, then head down to Shipley Art Gallery in Gateshead for their Mad Hatters Tea Party as part of the Late Shows. We will be there. So will lots of kettles and a small wooden garden house load of tea. This is happening on the 14th of May, in the evening.
And so began the big slog of a journey back to Mumbai. 2000 km on a rickshaw, a bus, a rickshaw, a train, a rickshaw, a bus, a rickshaw, a rickshaw, a bus, a train and a taxi.
But first, a boat -
That is what you do in Varanasi. And at 6 am, we did. It was lovely.
This Stuff Also Happened That Morning-
After a lonnng painful groan, a heifer projectile shitted slightly up a wall and very much on an unlucky person. Ahhh, nature.
We bought 23 silk scarfs without realising it, including a one for the Quilliam Mother that we spent ages umming and ahhing about. We nailed the choice in the end though.
We paid to lock our stuff up whilst we entered the strict strict Golden Temple.
Then we got confused and left about 30 seconds later.
We had the most delicious curry in the world, and badgered the chef for his secrets. He gave away a few, but not all.
We purchased some great spice masalas (for chai mostly) from some dodgy dealers who were anxiously adamant that we dealt with them in the future for all our masala based business.
Sam got some sandalwood oil for his Lady Friend.
We then had a snooze.
Woke, checked out, and headed Ghat-wards.
Said our goodbyes to the delightful Moni.
Got lost again.
And Again.
Before getting the rickshaw to Mughal Sarai Train Station.
The train was late! Would you believe it?! But only 5 hours late, so really not bad on the Indian scale of lateness.
All train stations are rat infested. And have piles of rubbish and human shit and pools of piss on the tracks next to the platforms, which the rodents just lurrrve to get involved with. This particular rat infestation was a good one though, as they were winding up a dog by popping their heads up from cracks on the platform around us before disappearing just before the dog reached them. Like a monster game of Whac-A-Mole. But with a different small furry mammal. And a feral dog, not a stick. The dog was going berserk trying to catch them, intermittently looking around expectantly at people in the hope that they would sympathise with his predicament and give him a morale boost by telling him he was doing a neato job and that he should keep at it; As the prophet Aaliyah (God rest her soul) once said -
And if (r)at first you don't succeed Then dust yourself off and try again You can dust it off and try again, try again Cause if (r)at first you don"t succeed You can dust it off and try again Dust yourself off and try again, try again.
He's probably still scurrying around the platform now.
We played a spot of poker again. Sam won. He needed the money anyway after forking out for the Sandalwood oil.
The train journey was very nice, and we had some time to spare, so we stopped by this churchy thing -
IT WAS SO HOT AND BRIGHT WE FELT LIKE OUR EYES WERE GOING TO BURN OUT OF OUR SKULLS AND THE GROUND BURNT OUR FEET COS YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED SHOES ON INSIDE AND WE HAD SOME DODGY FOOD AND FELT HORRIBLE.
But it was pleasant nonetheless. A wonder.
What wasn't pleasant was the wait on the bus to the next train station. For some reason the local government has music time in Agra, where a series of connected loud speakers around the city start BLARING out distorted highly highly highly repetitive Bollywood tunes. These speakers look like cartoon ear trumpets, and only treble escapes from the tiny tweeters. Pain inducing sharp treble. IT IS SO HORRIBLE, THAT WE WOULD PREFER AN HOUR OF U-BOLLOCKING-2 OR AC-MUNTING-DC OR 'METRO, THE FLIPPING MUSICAL'. So that, on top of the tremendous heat, our dicky tummies, train catching anxiety and the trip fatigue, made for an all time low in the Quilliam Brothers India Trip.
Actualllllyyyyy i tell a lie. The bus driver failed to stop at the train station, despite constant reassurance that we were ok. So, 5 minutes passed, and we asked again. He said '5 minutes, no problem' and dropped us in the piss-middle of chuff-where. We were at the mercy of the not particularly pleasant townsfolk. I bloody hate having a backpack. Thrown anywhere with no luggage and my happiness will be comparable to Larry's, but a back pack each and a large bag of tea each plus other bits and bobs (23 scarves for example) makes for a stressful time. So this was even lower - Arguing with the cocky rickshaw drivers that were trying to diddle us, who had power over us as we had no alternative and a train to catch, who then dropped us off at the disgusting station all the while winding us up by purposefully laughing in our faces (not exaggerating for the sake of a good anecdote). klasbhjkahsdkfvasjdbfsad.
Here's 2 pictures that didn't fit anywhere, but i like them. They are from Agra.
But the train was simply incredible. We splurged on the final long train journey. Another Rajdhani Express. A blissful train ride shared with 3 chaps from Delhi that had spent 2 years studying in Leeds. Bizarrely enough. (for those not acquainted with the North of England, Leeds is down the road from Newcastle). Their Muslimy needs meant they kept going to pray with a compass, as presumably being on a train means you never are sure if you are facing Mecca-wards. I have deep respect for anyone who commits themselves to all that praying. I struggle to muster enough gusto to have a wee or eat, never mind enthusiastically worship Allah.
So, mid-morning we slowly trundled through the outskirts, past slum suburb upon slum suburb, bringing the intoxicating and addictive smell and feel of Mumbai back to our excitable goose bumped bodies (the goose bumps might've been from the tremendous fever that we were rocking, it was hard to tell).
The plane departed that evening. So we had hours to kill. There are 20 million + people in Mumbai and surrounds (don't let Wikipedia fool you). I know 4 people there, and i had seen 3 of them by the time we had dumped our bags at the hotel. That left 1 person, called John who is a student from Kerela. A delightful chap with a wonky eye. You can appreciate that i was a tad flabbergasted at seeing him in a park. Bloody amazing.
Here is 1 of the 4 people we know in Mumbai, in all his moustachey greatness -
We spent the time wandering, drinking tea, dreaming of hobnobs, never being more than a 50 metre dash from a toilet, before taking the hour long taxi ride to the airport as we sat in silence, staring, reminiscing about the trip whilst the wind through the open window ruffled our hair, and a movie sound track played in our imaginations.
And thus, a year ago to this very day, we completed the near 3 week circuit. Some thoughts -
India is the most intoxicating travelling experience. If you hit it with the right frame of mind, you will be rewarded with some of the most amazing times of your life. As soon as that frame of mind gets warped though, you will have some of the most un-amazing times of your life. There is so much variety in the country. So much life and soul. For a country that runs on deceit and exploitation there is an overwhelming feeling of pure human honesty. No frills. No beating around bushes. No concealment.
At times as a tourist it's hard to judge how much of a fuss to make when you have been taken for a ride, that's if you ever do realise you have been taken for a ride. It's hard to know how much to haggle down the cost of your ride, and to work out whether you actually wanted the ride in the first place or have been tricked into it. But you can guarantee that the ride will always be an experience, and there aren't that many things that can count as a bad experience whilst travelling. If you are left naked in a ditch with only half a chapati and an HB pencil to your name, at least you will be telling or thinking about the story for years to come, and it is something that has happened to you, and you alone. Something you can cherish as a unique experience. It may've felt slightly shit at the time, but treasure the shitness, bask in the shitness. For at least you are not stuck in an office, fully clothed, with a prepackaged salad (as you're on a diet because all you do is sit in the office), asking to borrow your colleague's (who pretends to like you) HB pencil because yours just snapped whilst writing 'Fish Fingers!' on a Tesco shopping list that you have to purchase before you get in and watch X Factor. That is true shitness.
It's been written about loads n loads, the guilt and inner turmoil felt whilst being a tourist in a developing country. People roughing it whilst you are tucking into your 3rd massive meal of the day, and all that. We can but second those emotions, take it as life education, and make sure it effects us in a positive way; a way that pushes you to help the world, not stick your fingers in your ears, scrunch your eyes closed and sing 'God Save The Queen' loudly.
What is always on the mind though, when riding the number 1 bus through Newcastle, sitting in the garden with a cuppa, waiting with fish fingers in the Tesco queue, reading 'Cosmo' before nodding off at night or at any other time where the mind is free for a moment, is that the world doesn't stop when you leave: that the lady that breaks little rocks into littler rocks by the river in Jorethang for 50 rupees a day is there now breaking little rocks into littler rocks, that Moni is sitting on the Ghat in Varanasi befriending foreigners, that the Rhinos in Kaziranga are happily munching their way through the thick grasses oblivious to the fact that they are a species dangerously close to extinction, that the chai wallahs are pumping their little gas stoves, that the rickshaw drivers are beeping their horns, that the tea pickers are picking, that the monkeys are monkeying around, that the cicadas are creaking, that the rats are probably still pestering the dog, that the homeless Mumbaikars are staring at the stars in their cots in the stifling heat near a banyan tree, that the millions upon millions of Indians are in their incredible country, doing whatever they do to make it the bloody amazing place it is.
It's not a radical observation, that the world doesn't stop, but it is so easy to disconnect yourself from somewhere as soon as you leave. To think of it as somewhere that performed for you, and as soon as you left, it stopped the show. But India, you have most definitely made an impact - there is no way we will stop dreaming of your cool velvety sugar cane juice, your hot hot Mumbai Wada Paw, the fresh Himalayan air, the rush of travelling on ALL forms of transport, the chaos, the stress, the excitement, the beauty, the filth, the generous hospitality, the cheating conniving taxi wallahs, everything good and bad, everything, everything.
It was a marvellous trip, and as far as companions are concerned, you couldn't wish for better.
