Clotted Cream and a Dutch Tire

On my last day (it was a Monday) in London, I decided to do something...out of the ordinary. I had a little extra money left, a fair amount of time, and I really, really wanted to have a classic British Afternoon Tea.

So, first, I took a walk. I decided to go to Harrods, the giant, famous department store.

It was overwhelming. For one, it's like a giant burrow in there, with high ceilings and a confusing layout. For two, there were about 6,000 options for everything. Everything. From chocolate to shoes. It was incredible. So, I bought myself a chocolate.

It was, I think needless to say, very, very good. Then I wandered to the baking area (notice that I went to the department store and spent the entire time looking at the food areas?).

I bought myself a loaf of honey walnut apricot bread - it sounded a lot better than it tasted. It was dry and a bit burnt. I will attempt to make it myself sometime, and it will be much better, I think. On a side note, I tried something for breakfast in London that I've never tried before - it was a muffin-scone looking thing, and it had hot apricot preserves inside. It was crusted with sugar. It was incredible. I have no idea what they're called, but wow.

After touring Harrods, I went to Hyde Park, ate a tasty sandwich, and watched people running by, adamantly hoping one of them would be famous British actor, and trip in front of me, and then we could have this great moment where I helped him up, and we talked for a bit. You know. Because that happens all the time.

Then I wandered over the Lanesborough Hotel, made reservations for an Afternoon Tea, and rushed home to get a decent outfit for tea on. By the way, the Lanesborough is THE nicest place you can go in London to get afternoon tea. I mean, we're talking, men in tails at the front doors, with top hats, opening the doors for you, asking if they can help you with anything, etc. I was intimidated. And then I was like, "Ohyesthisisglorious."

I got changed (into a cute blue with white polka dots dress), and went and sat in Hyde Park, which is right across from the Lanesborough

 Then, I went and had tea. It was a singular experience, to be sure. I swear, there were at least four people assigned to me. And, as I was the first person to arrive for tea that afternoon (NOT a singular occurrence) they sort of hovered for the first fifteen minutes of my tea. I wish I could have taken pictures of everything I ate. But, I guess that's weird or something. In any case, I hardly dared to take my camera out just to get a picture of myself.

Hello! Kelli & Kindle. A match made in Heaven.

Here are some of the incredible things I ate:

Several pots - I would say at least three - of lemongrass and ginger tea. I mean, the place boasts employing the most noted tea sommelier in all of England.The tea was incredible. And my cup was constantly full, thanks to the hovering men pouring me my tea.

Little sandwiches - with red onion and grape, grilled chicken with cumin, cucumber and cream cheese - all delicious

A light caramel raspberry "palate-cleanser" - it was a sort of light cream thing, served in a wee little glass.

Two small cakes - one white chocolate with lavender, and one dark chocolate with Belgian chocolate.

Pastries - a cherry covered in chocolate, on a wafer thing caramel crisp, for instance.

Two scones and two biscuits with an orange glaze, clotted cream, raspberry preserves, and lemon curd.

It was a lot of food for just one person. But I packed it in. And by the end of the tea, I was literally in pain from all the food. But it was the good kind of pain, where you think, "If I could eat this forever and not get fat/full - YES."

So, that was my traditional Afternoon Tea in London. It was a really, really excellent way to end my time in the U.K.

I took the bus back to Utrecht at 10 that night - it was a much better, I will say, but still. It is murder to take a bus overnight with multiple stops/wake-up points along the way. Phew.

Now, about my bike. First, she had to get a new chain, because, somehow miraculously, her chain was way too long, and make a horrible clanky, whirring, crunchy sound every time I tried to ride the bike. I say "miraculously" because it only started after I got back from Christmas. What, was she hiding an extra piece of her chain before Christmas? I just don't understand it. But there you go, I had to shell out 20 euro to get a new, shorter, silent chain. Once I had it, though, I was much happier. It's so awkward to get stared at around the city because your bike makes a bad noise. Well, a worse noise than most. In a country where there are two bikes for every person, even the babies, there are a lot of bikes that make scary, sick-sounding noises.

In any case, the chain got fixed, and I breathed a sigh of relief at my new, happy bike. Naturally, days later, I noticed my tire getting flat. I figured it just needed air. So, full of trepidation, I took it to the basement bike-park area at the hospital, where they have a super fast bike pump. Unfortunately,  the super-fast-bike-pump is next to the Nasty-Nazi-of-Bike-Repair, also known as the mechanic who runs the bike shop in the basement of the hospital. He is classically, infamously mean to anyone who doesn't have a brand-new bike, which is like, everyone, because if you have a nice bike, it basically only means your bike will get stolen faster.

So Mr. Bike Nazi is fixing a bike, and I go down and start to try and put air in my tire. I know my tire is complicated...but I had no idea how complicated.

A normal bike tire, if you will imagine with me for a moment, has a little valve for pumping air into the tube inside the tire. This little valve is round, and has a little black cap. You unscrew the cap, and stick your pump on the metal bit, and pump. All is well.

My tire did not have a nice little valve like this. Oh, sure, the front tire did. But the back tire had this funky-looking little valve that tapered to a point. No black cap. Just a little cone-looking stick of metal coming out of my tire.

So, I wiggle it. I untwist it a bit, and air starts rushing out of my tire. I immediately screw it back on. However, my instincts were not quick enough. Now, I have a completely flat tire, and a mysterious metal tube with which I am somehow supposed to fill it.

People walk by. One girl tries to help me and starts furiously pumping the tire, stops, feels the (still flat) tire, and says, "Yep! I think it's full now." I thank her for her completely useless and also idiotic help.

I am quickly coming to a sinking realization. I do not know how to fill my damn bike tire. And I'm going to have to ask the Bike Nazi for help.

Damn.

I walk into his shop area, and say, "Hi, can you help me, I just need you to show me how to fill my tire. I'm so sorry, I know it's so stupid, but I just need like, two minutes of your time." Predictably, he turns around slowly, and gives me this hard look like, "Jesus. Why do I have to work with a seething mass of idiots and incompetents?"

"Look," he says. "If I just took "a couple of minutes" for everyone who comes into this shop with a problem, I would be broke. Maybe you just need to fill your tire. But maybe something is wrong with your bike. I need to keep it here overnight, and you need to pick it up by noon tomorrow. When you come back tomorrow, if I fix it, I can show you what I did."

Well, folks, guess what. I'm not leaving my bike with this man, and hoping that I can get it back tomorrow, for some insane amount of money, when all I really need is for someone to show me how to fill my stupid tire. I thank him for his time, and tell him I will think about it. Right. I will think about what an idiot he is the whole time I'm riding my bike (on a flat tire) to the bike shop I actually like going to in the city.

Well, I did manage to get my bike to the bike shop - it's called Fietspunt (Bike Point) - in the city.I made it with a combination of biking and walking, and it didn't take quite as long as I thought it would, though I was tremendously worried about hurting my bike the whole time. I went into the shop, and the owner, a nice, Dutch/maybe Turkish guy, who doesn't really speak English, came over and looked at my bike. I said, in Dutch, "Look, I just need to learn how to fill the tire. Please, please just help me." He smiled at me, and looked at the tire. "Okay. I will show you, and do it once for you, and then you do it for yourself in the future, yes?" I was so grateful, I almost fell over with thanks. He flipped my bike quickly over, rotated the tire to the valve, and looked at it. He got out a little pair of pliers, and said: "Okay, so there are two parts to this valve. The bottom part screws the valve into the tube. This top part here (he points to a miniscule little round metal piece at the tip of my cone-like valve) is what you unscrew to pump up the bike. (He unscrews the miniscule top metal bit). "You push on it (He pushes), and air comes out. In your case, you want to put the pump on (He puts a pump on over the now unscrewed miniscule metal bit), and then push down. This opens the valve for the bike."

He filled up my tire. I would say the whole interaction took about five minutes. He didn't charge me, he just smiled and said to keep the tire full.

He has become my hero. Every time something goes wrong with my bike nowadays, I immediately take it to his shop. He's always fair, he always gives me a good price, and he's always calm and nice. It's amazing, compared to Basement Bike Nazi McSillyPants.

It turns out I was unscrewing the bottom metal piece - the one that holds the valve into the tube - to try and fill my bike. Which was why it wasn't filling, just deflating. It was like I was taking the entire valve out of the tube and then trying to blow into a giant hole. Yeah, well. Now I know better, huh!?

Here is a lovely instructional video about Schrader versus Presta valves. A normal bike/car tire has a Schrader valve. My bike tire had a Presta valve. Who knew?! Who knew. The Dutch. This is going on a long list of the things that have baffled me about this land.

This post will, hopefully, be quickly followed by another, about Antwerp, and then one about the Keukenhof, and then one about this weekend, during which I went to an old-fashioned sea-side town called Volendam, and saw a ton of windmills/clog making at a place called Zaanse Schans. Tot dan, mijn lieves!