Tired of western materialism, viagra conformity and consumerism, they packed their rucksacks, took the little money they had and hit the road Eastwards on a trip to discover a different self in a foreign world.

This overland “mission” from Europe to Asia generally ended here in Kathmandu, specifically Jhochhen Tole.?Known for its laid back pace and liberal marijuana laws (shops sold legally until 1972), “Freak Street” became a destination for many daring, free spirited and open minds.

Before coming to Kathmandu I knew these tales from the sixties and seventies. Following their inspiration, I came here via road. After about five years traveling, mostly hitchhiking, and living around Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia —I arrived in Nepal and knew I had reached my destination and found a home.

Recently I found myself eating momos along Freak Street with a nostalgic, extravagant old Italian man.

“Thirty years ago this street was filled with long-bearded freaks!” He shouted.?“We were searchers of existence, wandering from one side of the road to the other, with a cup of chai in one hand and a joint in the other, talking philosophy. No insane behavior could surprise people in this street, we felt free to be.”

“Without all these cheap airlines, the only youngsters who could arrive here were the ones with enough courage to pass though Turkey, Kurdistan, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and so on…Now you see these tourists? They wear the most professional trousers for the most professional mountain trek! Mamma mia!”?I laughed.?“Teleportation already exists,” the wrinkled old Italian continued. “We can cross the whole globe in one day. Everyone makes big talks about modernization and development, but I see the development coming up to our necks.” He was right, Nepal these days has become a well known tourist destination, with all the changes that it implies.

Freak Street travelers are now vastly outnumbered by Thamel tourists. Marijuana shops have been replaced by restaurants and cyber cafés and Thamel’s fields and farmhouses, have been developed into a tourist trap with countless trekking and rafting advertisements, hawkers on the street, fancy hotels, live music and a thriving night life.

But the spirit and way of the first travelers who came by land has not died. Travelling in this new millennium, I’ve encountered incredible travelers of all ages and backgrounds crossing 6000 miles of deserts, high mountains with landslides, and rough roads. By motorcycle, minibus, car, bicycle, or hitchhiking.

I met a man who peddled his rickshaw from Kathmandu to Spain, a Swiss couple on donkeys, two French crossing the world wholly on foot, and a man on unicycle (one wheeled bicycle).

Their dedication to traditional and creative ways of land travel writes new chapters in the collective story of the backpacking citizens of the world. Sometimes I meet older travelers who, after crossing the “60’s hippie trail” until Kathmandu, never left.

Their testimony inspires and encourages me to dream big and live out my dreams through my actions and choices. These old spirits follow a simpler path, preferring to travel by land and let the space move them organically. Time passes more naturally as a conception.?When it is time to move from one place to another the body and mind will speak, one only needs to listen to hear .

While the makeup of Freak Street and Katmandu may have been commercialized, the spirit of the original tourists of Nepal lives on through the message of classic rock songs spilling out from windows and those who continue to spill them.

Everybody knows SANTA CLAUS. He is a cheerful, ‘well-nourished’, white-bearded old man, wearing a red coat and trousers trimmed with white fur, half-moon glasses and black leather belt and boots. What is less known is that this much-loved figure originated by combining elements from the tales of Saint Nicholas, Odin and Father Christmas.

Saint Nicholas was Bishop of Myra in the 4^th century. From the far-away land of ancient Lycia in the east Mediterranean, his reputation soon spread out as that of a remarkable person who was infinitely generous to those in need. The anniversary of his death is commemorated on December 6^th. It is his gift-giving and child-loving trait that probably led to the fusion of the tales surrounding this historical figure into the character of Santa Claus. According to legend, there was a poor man who was unable to afford dowries for his three daughters, meaning that they would consequently remain unmarried and be destined for a destitute life of hard labour or prostitution. St Nicholas heard about the old man’s plight and, wishing to remain anonymous, under the cover of night he tossed a purse full of gold through an open window on the night before each of the girls came of age. The story goes that there were stockings hung by the fireplace to dry and the purses ended up inside. True or not it is impossible to establish, but it makes a nice story!

More elements of the Santa Claus character are found in the Dutch figure of Sinterklaas (meaning Saint Nicholas in Dutch). A staff, long white beard, red bishop’s robes and a red mitre featuring a big golden cross constitute his trademark look. He rides a white horse and on the evening of December 5^th he brings gifts to well-behaved children and takes away to Spain the naughty ones. According to tradition children leave a shoe with a carrot, sugar or straw for his horse near the chimney at night. There is an obvious connection to Saint Nicholas, but there are also features that might be derived from Odin, the Norse god who brought gifts or punishment across the winter world flying on his eight-legged horse. Wearing a blue cloak and with a beard long and white, he was inseparable from his spear and his black ravens kept him informed of what was happening around the world. Children liked to leave food for his horse by the chimney. It is not at all unlikely that after the christianisation of the Germanic peoples, some of the features of Odin were transferred to Sinterklaas.

Father Christmas is a British holiday figure dating back to the 17^th century. Emerging as a reaction to the Puritan disapproval of the Christmas feast, he was the personification of the spirit of Christmas joy and benevolence, and advocated the merry celebration of Christmas; a celebration during which people could gorge themselves, drink alcohol, dance and sing to their hearts’ desire. Notably there is no mention of gift giving. Father Christmas makes a famous appearance in Charles Dickens’s novella ‘A Christmas Carol’ as the Ghost of Christmas Present, a genial man with sparkling eyes “…clothed in one simple deep green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice…”.

All these traditions crossed the Atlantic with the colonists and after a lot of mixing and adding and stirring, for which America offered the ideal fertile ground, the figure of Santa Claus was born. The rest is history!

Santa Claus has a taste for MINCE PIES and it is customary for little children to leave him a glass of sherry and a mince pie by the chimney on Christmas Eve. The predecessors of what we call today mince pies were already a popular Christmas dish during the Tudor times, but giant evolutionary steps have been made since then! Centuries ago a mince pie would have been a large pie filled with a mixture of meat, dried fruit and spices, possibly a Middle Eastern influence brought back home by the crusaders. Various meats were used, such as lamb, veal, partridge, pigeon, hare, pheasant, rabbit and mutton. The addition of spices such as cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg is said to be symbolic of the offerings of the Three Wise Men. Mince pies originally had oval shape to represent the manger where baby Jesus slept and a small doll made of pastry was placed on the top. Over the years the pies became smaller, round and the meat was completely replaced by fruit mince. They are often star-topped, representing the Star of Bethlehem.

The number of legends surrounding the origins of the CHRISTMAS TREE is so overwhelming, with word of mouth blurring the facts and many tales fiercely contradicting each other, that it is tempting to follow a pragmatic approach and close the topic by saying that evergreen trees had a central role in winter celebrations long before Christianity. However, in the spirit of narrating tales and Christmas approaching (Ebenezer is not my second name!), here is the most popular early story relating to the Christmas fir tree. At the beginning of the 8^th century a missionary was sent to Thuringia to convert the population to Christianity. This monk, no other than St Boniface, cut down the tree of Thor near Geismar (an oak tree sacrosanct to the Germanic people) as an act of challenging the old gods. According to legend, a fir tree sprouted from the roots of the oak tree and St Boniface declared it to be a holy tree. As for the first decorated outdoor Christmas tree, there was a delightful story on the news about it the other day. Apparently there is an ongoing debate between Riga in Latvia and Tallinn in Estonia about the first Christmas tree. So this year the mayor of Tallinn sent the mayor of Riga a small Christmas tree to congratulate him on the 500^th anniversary of the Riga tree, with a reminder that the Tallinn tree is celebrating its 569^th anniversary. So I choose stay out of this and stick to the St Boniface tale!

Every year millions of CHRISTMAS CARDS are exchanged in the UK alone and they are an integral part of our Christmas festivities. It came as a surprise to me that this is a relatively new custom. The first commercially available Christmas card was sent by Sir Henry Cole in 1843 and was designed by John C. Horsley. Sir Cole was a prominent and multitalented civil servant, best known today for his instrumental role in the development of several landmark establishments in South Kensington, such as the Victoria and Albert Museum. Perhaps, trying to comply with the custom of the time, Sir Cole found it impossible to send Christmas greetings to all his friends and acquaintances with individual hand-written messages (I would completely sympathise!). Or perhaps he was eager to promote the newly-established cheap “penny post”. In any case, he commissioned a London publisher to print him a batch of Christmas cards, which just needed to be signed and sent. Greeting cards had already been in use for hundreds of years before, but not Christmas cards. The card was a triptych, with pictures of feeding the hungry and clothing the poor on each side and a happy family around a festive table toasting the card recipient in the central panel. The leftover cards were sold for one shilling each and my guess is that nobody at that time could possibly foresee how keenly this custom would be embraced by the future generations!

KISSING UNDER THE MISTLETOE is a Christmas custom with pagan origins. Admittedly, there is nothing romantic about mistletoe as a plant; it is a lazy shrub that prefers to survive by growing roots on the barks of host trees and feeding from them. The Druids considered mistletoe growing on oak trees blessed and sacred, and integrated its use into their rituals as we find out from Pliny the Elder. Because of its mystical powers, it was believed that mistletoe could bring good luck to a household and ward off evil spirits; this is how the custom of hanging a branch over doorways and windows started.

What does this have to do with the kissing tradition, you ask? There are stories for every taste out there, but my personal favourite comes from Norse mythology. After Balder, the favourite son of Odin, started having dreams of death, his mother and goddess of love Frigg tried to protect him by extracting from all living and non-living entities on earth the promise that they would never harm her son. She omitted the mistletoe though and the story goes that Balder was in the end killed by an arrow made of mistletoe. Everyone was devastated by his death and Frigg’s tears became the white berries of mistletoe. In a typical happily-ever-after style Balder was brought back to life through divine intervention, and Frigg declared that from then on only a kiss, as a token of friendship and love, and no harm would await anyone who stood under mistletoe.

With Christmas falling so closely to major pagan sacred days, it is no wonder mistletoe became associated with Christmas celebrations, despite the banning of the early Church. When the custom of kissing under the mistletoe found its way to England, a proper etiquette was established (of course…), requiring a berry to be picked every time a kiss was exchanged and the kissing to cease when there were no more berries left.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

For weekenders who are after the alluring atmosphere exuded by an old lighthouse, but not particularly happy with the idea of forgoing all the comforts of a luxury hotel, the Corsewall Lighthouse Hotel is a good solution. Situated at Corsewall Point in Scotland and overlooking the North Channel, its beacon has served as a warning to ships approaching the mouth of Loch Ryan since 1817. The lighthouse became fully automated in 1994 and the lighthouse building itself, a 34 metre-high white tower, is listed, but the former lightkeeper’s accommodation is now operated as a four-star hotel and restaurant. It is possible that you will spend your entire stay with your nose glued to the hotel’s window-panes admiring the view, and that you will not want to part from the relaxing and friendly ambience of the establishment. After all, this is a hotel of distinctive stature, so to speak, and nobody can blame you. If you do venture outdoors though, you will be rewarded with majestic views of the Scottish coastline, which you can enjoy in combination with some local sightseeing, cycling, hiking, golf and wildlife watching.

Young (and young at heart!) people who would like to combine a relaxing weekend stay at a charming, wave-crashing cum seagull-crying lighthouse setting, with a ton of fun activities to choose from, would be thrilled with the West Usk Lighthouse. Built in 1821, the lighthouse overlooks the Bristol Channel and offers breathtaking views of the Severn and Usk Estuaries. It was decommissioned in the 1920s and today it operates as a comfortable and shabby chic B&B. All accommodation is within the lighthouse building itself, which is unusually short and wide in circumference for a lighthouse, and a stone, spiral staircase in the centre of the property leads to the wedge-shaped first floor rooms. The fully restored lantern room offers a panoramic view of Welsh countryside and sea, and one of the fastest tides in the world can be heard rushing towards the foot of the building twice a day. Originality is not limited to architectural features. With a Dalek at the bottom of the staircase and a wishing well in the basement, a 21 ft Mongolian Yurt in the courtyard, a Rolls Royce to drive you around, whispers of paranormal activity and crop circles, all combined with a very long list of fun activities to choose from (ranging from aromatherapy to Russian Tank driving), in all fairness originality is a gross understatement! Have a look at their very friendly website if you don’t believe me.

If you are looking for an elite, cosy and romantic place to spend a weekend away from it all, then the Great Orme Lighthouse cannot possibly disappoint you. It was built in 1862 and faces the Irish Sea from the Great Orme, a limestone headland in North Wales. Apparently because of its location, on top of a 100 m wave-lashed cliff, there was no need for the usual tall and narrow lighthouse stance to make it visible at sea and as a result this lighthouse has the unusual appearance of a fortress, featuring dressed limestone outside and pitch pine panelling inside. The beam was deactivated in 1985 and today the building is operated as an elegant, family-owned B&B. Accommodation is within the lighthouse building, with the names of the rooms indicating their original use: the Lamp Room, the Telegraph Room and the Principal Keeper’s Suite. Yes, there are only 3 rooms available, so it is recommended to book very early in order to avoid disappointment. A lot of the original furnishings are strategically scattered around the rooms, like the portholes and pine shutters for the telescopes, the ladder leading to the roof and the glass panelling of the lamp room, adding to the feeling of history beckoning to you when you stay there.

Finally, for families or large groups of people, if you do not mind hiring self-catering accommodation, you might want to have a look at Burnham High Lighthouse, an 8-storey tower in Somerset promoted as a self-contained let, and the Old Higher Lighthouse in Portland, offering a cottage almost next to the lighthouse as a long-stay holiday let. For hostel-like accommodation bear in mind the Portland Bird Observatory and Field Centre in Portland, whilst if you are willing to travel the extra mile you might be interested in self-catering lighthouse accommodation up north in the Shetland Islands. By the way, The Old Lighthouse at St. Anne’s Head in West Wales is available both to let and for sale, if you really like lighthouses that much!

If the idea of staying at a lighthouse brings out the child in you, you ought to know that you won’t be able to just sneak into the lamp room at night and play shadow puppets across the Irish Sea of the English Channel! My understanding is that lighthouses providing lodgings have deactivated beams, which in this case is a great pity, don’t you think?

Regardless of season, pilule weather and occasion, illness the sensation of a frozen dessert titillating the palate is delightful. Whether it is ice cream, sorbet, sherbet, frozen yogurt, granita or parfait, those of us with a sweet tooth find it practically impossible to politely refuse a tempting offer… for more!!

Most popular of all is undeniably ice cream. A typical ice cream mix contains milk and cream, sweeteners, sometimes eggs and of course flavouring. This mixture is briefly heated and homogenised before it is subjected to rapid freezing. Surrounding the bowl containing the mix with a medium at subzero temperature achieves swift removal of heat from the mix. Cooling the mix in this way ensures the formation of only small and uniformly distributed ice crystals in the cream, while at the same time, vigorous stirring further prevents ice crystals from forming into large clusters. But most importantly, churning is necessary in order to trap air bubbles in the mix while it freezes. Ice cream is effectively foam that has been stabilised by freezing the liquid and therefore air bubbles are necessary in order for the final frozen product to be ‘scoopable’ rather than ‘sawable’! Various frozen desserts are made from different mixes-for example, sorbet and granita mixes are based on fruit instead of dairy products-but the preparation is very much the same.

The history of ice cream is laced with intriguing stories about its eastern origin and nobility-exclusive hush-hush formula. Some of these stories are probably true and without doubt some are just charming fairy tales. However, rationally speaking, making ice cream is as close to chemistry as one can get on a white apron and toque, probably too close for comfort! Therefore, because the ingredients and way they are processed are all so specific, it is highly unlikely that someone could get it right by chance, at least not before scientists deciphered certain chemical processes. Most importantly, the low temperatures needed to freeze the ice cream could not have been easily achieved before, some 400 years ago, culinary circles got wind of the scientific discovery that salted ice induces considerably more cooling than ice alone.

I hope that the reference to chemistry will not intimidate any curious ice cream fans from making ice cream at home. It’s not difficult and it’s fun! But it would be better to avoid improvising and stick to the recipe, unless you understand well the underlying molecular processes. For example, you might be tempted to make ice cream without any sweeteners in order to reduce the calorific content. I recently learnt that this would not work so well, because the sweeteners are not just for taste, but they actually lower the temperature at which the liquid mix becomes solid (freezing point) and thus prevent it from becoming rock-hard in the refrigerator. Adding alcohol has a similar effect, but with a few extra drops you can easily cause your mix not to be able to freeze, because of the extremely low freezing point. Have an extra sip or two if you must, but leave the mix alone! If calories are not a problem and you feel like making an exceptionally rich dessert using only cream and no milk, you should reconsider because it’s the fats in the milk and not in the cream that facilitate the incorporation of air bubbles in the mix. You could end up with a very dense product that requires a drill and lots of muscle to break through it!

A vast assortment of ice cream flavours can be found around the globe nowadays, adapted for different cultures, climates and tastes. Growing a little tired of the typical vanilla-chocolate-strawberry trio, I turned …East and looked for inspiration. Here are some ideas for ‘ethnic’ ice creams that are usually received well by Western palates.

Matcha ice cream is a very popular ice cream in Japan and other countries of East Asia. Very refreshing and very… green! Matcha is the emerald-green tea powder traditionally used in the Japanese tea ceremony, but you don’t need expensive ceremonial-grade matcha to make ice cream. Red bean (azuki) ice cream is another very popular Japanese ice cream flavour, as well as Okinawan sweet potato, cherry blossom (for a limited season) and the nutty-tasting black sesame (goma) ice cream. Japan is also famous for strange ice cream flavours, so if you are feeling adventurous, this is the country to look for truly jaw-dropping tastes!

Kaimaki ice cream is a luscious ice cream, made with mastic and salep and is very popular in Greece. The ingredients are unique and give it a very distinct flavour. Mastic is the crystallised aromatic resin harvested from the tree pistacia lentiscus, mainly growing on the Greek island of Chios. Salep is a flour produced by grinding orchid dried roots and is used as a thickening agent for this ice cream, giving it also distinctive elasticity. Kaimaki ice cream is served with syrupy sweets, such as kataifi, or for something… ehm… lighter it goes well with sour cherry syrup and Aegina pistachios. Kaimaki ice cream is very similar to Turkish ice cream.

Kulfi is the Indian version of ice cream and is very popular in that part of the world. The technique for making kulfi is slightly different from ice cream in that you need to let your milk mix simmer slowly in an open pan until about a third of the water has evaporated, while you continuously stir. When the mix is ready, it is not churned during freezing, but instead it is frozen solid. Kulfi is a very dense frozen dessert that takes a long time to melt and can be eaten with knife and fork. Popular ingredients to add flavour and texture are pistachios, mangos, saffron, cardamom, rose water, cinnamon, almonds and malai (clotted cream).

If you are not after exotic flavours, but you just crave for something different, The Parlour Restaurant at Fortnum & Mason in London might inspire you! Their strawberry with balsamic vinegar and walnut with maple syrup scoops were so good that I still regret not trying stem ginger with honey as well!

So, whatever you do, stick to the recipe and… happy summer!

It sounds simple. Honeybees make honey from nectar they collect from flowers. We take it from them and eat it. There is nothing simple about honey production, though. The bees put a staggering amount of labour, patience and teamwork in this task. It is of course their main food source, but really, what a hard way to earn a living! So, lets talk about the whole ‘production chain’ behind a jar of honey…

The chain starts with forager worker bees making endless trips to bring nectar back to the beehive. With their particularly acute sense of smell they are able to target suitable flowers from meters away. They will visit 50-100 flowers during each trip and store the nectar into their ‘honey sacs’ for as long as they are airborne. Once they are back to the beehive, they hand the nectar over to standing-by crews of young worker bees and they hit the road again, so to speak.

It is then the turn of the beehive bees to join forces in order to transform the nectar into raw honey, through chemical processes taking place in the course of repeated ingestion, digestion and regurgitation. At the same time, other teams of young bees are responsible for building hexagonal cells from beeswax. Once the raw honey is of satisfactory quality, it is spread over empty honeycomb cells and is left to dry. To speed up water evaporation, the bees beat their wings to create a draught in the beehive. Cells with ‘ripe’ honey are then sealed with wax caps and this honey is expected to last for a very long time, since the low water content prevents any further fermentation.

This cycle is meticulously repeated by the little busy creatures during the bloom season and it is extremely painstaking, with the average worker bee producing just half a teaspoon of honey during her lifetime. In fact, for the production of one kilogram of honey, the bees of a beehive need to collectively fly the equivalent of several times around the world to gather enough nectar! And of course, not to forget that the pace of this work is quite fast; think of the tempo of Rimsky-Korsakov’s the Flight of the Bumblebee!

As the bloom season comes to its end, it is the beekeeper’s turn to ‘rob’ the bees and collect the honey. Modern beehives consist of a rectangular box, inside which several removable frames are hung in parallel. The bees fill these rectangular panels with honeycomb cells, resulting in flat honeycombs that can be easily removed-encased as they are-for inspection without destroying the beehive. The hive boxes usually consist of two ‘floors’ with the lower level mostly accommodating the pollen storage and breeding and housing needs of the hive, and the top level housing the honey storage. This architecture makes it easy for the beekeeper to remove the honey with little disturbance to the bee colony.

When it is time for honey collection, the hive is fumigated and the smoke makes the bees remarkably non-aggressive, so that they can be simply brushed off from the honeycomb panels. The beekeeper leaves enough frames in the beehive box to ensure that the bees will have enough food, and after checking that there is only honey in the frames that have been removed, he uncaps the honeycomb cells with a knife and spins the frames in a special device to separate the honey from the honeycomb with little damage to the latter. Some filtering is usually needed to remove pollen and other floating particles and then this pure delicious raw honey is ready to be poured into jars and consumed.

I realise that my family belongs to those lucky people who have their honey supply coming directly from a beekeeper and therefore can ask all sorts of questions regarding the origin of the honey and sample it before buying. Even better, we know where the beekeeper lives, his car plate number and his whole extended family, so he knows better than to try and cheat us!! The other day though, as I ran out of honey for my slice of bread, I had to get some from the supermarket and I was confronted with an overwhelming variety of honey jars to pick from and very little to go with, other than the information on the jar and the appearance of the honey inside. I bought jam in the end…! But I did ask around afterwards for ways to recognise good quality honey.

Best quality honey has low water content (under 20% and as low as 14%), which prevents fermentation and makes it last longer. Honey retains the aroma and taste of the flowers the bees have collected the nectar from, and as a result honey produced from a single floral source is considered premium honey and the most valuable. To produce this sort of honey the beekeeper will have to move the beehives to areas where bees will have access to mostly one type of flower, and be willing to harvest half-full frames at the end of the specific blooming season.  Bits and pieces of wax, sugar crystals, yeast and other impurities commonly occurring in raw honey, although not appealing to the eye, do not diminish honey quality and might in fact enhance its nutritional benefits and medical properties. On the other hand, certain kinds of processing that involve heating, while they do improve the shelf life of honey and give it a more clear and clean look, they generally lead to a degradation of flavour and quality. Honey adulteration is also a common problem and unfortunately it is not easy to recognise adulterated honey visually.

Apart from their key role in honey production, bees are a very important part of our ecosystem, because of their contribution to the pollination of flowering plants, a process without which a rather large percentage of our food supply would be jeopardised. An alarmingly steep decline in the honeybee population around the world has been noted during the past few years, occurring in the form of the mysterious disappearance of all the worker bees of a beehive. Although the reasons are not fully understood and it is possible that man is not to blame in this case, it might be educating for all of us to pause and think for a moment how much more than just honey we stand to lose if honeybees disappear from the face of earth…

Culture is increasingly present in debates regarding the nature of development and patterns of social change.

Many argue that participants in a development project that contains a concern for culture at its core, find will benefit through strengthened identities, mind reinforced social bonds and an increase in the quality of life. This position has so far found little opposition: in fact, everyone seems to agree that there are many positive social impacts to be gained from a more culturally oriented approach.

Yet we live in a society that on the one hand eagerly promotes the fruits of progress and modernisation, while on the other advocates for alternative approaches to development that favour local, culturally bound conceptions of change. Whether the two realities can possibly coexist remains to be seen.

The degree to which people have the means to direct the course of their own lives, is still subject to intense debate.

The twentieth century was witness to a transition in which, for the first time in history, the greater percentage of the world’s population increasingly began to concentrate in and around its urban centres.

Cities are increasingly multifaceted as new ethnic and cultural realities coexist side-by-side and on top of one another.

Multiethnic cities can produce the best and the worst of worlds: they contain a rich array of people, languages, cuisines and values; their citizens have unprecedented amounts of personal freedom and upward-mobility and the chance to ‘succeed’ can be achieved by everyone, regardless of their class, colour or background. Yet for every bonus there is the inevitable flip-side: diversity becomes a source of conflict as differences are exacerbated and politicised; freedom seems pointless without any money in your pocket; upward-mobility becomes fantastical, as increasing amounts of people find it impossible to break-free from the constraints imposed by the physical marginalisation of deprived neighbourhoods. Communication breaks down, as increasing alienation isolates many who find themselves unable destroy the barriers imposed on them by others, and that they have come to see as normal.

The above problems are not necessarily the exclusive realm of the city but it is often here that they become evident.

We are left wondering what strategies can accommodate all these different realities in such a way that strengthens identities and allows for diversity, yet enables us to live side-by-side, sharing our values, challenging our preconceptions, and engaging in determining the course of our lives.

This article was written to support a belief that culture is a means by which the social fabric of communities can be kick-started in such a way that take the voices of marginalised people into account. Such an approach is difficult to implement as its results are often difficult to quantify but this does not mean that it should be set aside.

The economist Amartya Sen has argued that the best way to measure how poor people are, is to take into account what they can do, what they should be able to do; what they are prevented from doing; and what they have reason to value doing. The idea behind this, is that every person’s individual circumstances influence their ability to use whatever they have at their disposition to different degrees. Income may be a useful starting point by which to assess the needs of a community or an individual but it is a hopelessly insufficient indicator when taken alone. It is important instead to concentrate on the actual ‘living’ that people manage to achieve. As a result, if we are able to see what people are managing to achieve, we can infer what they are capable of doing, and what they are prevented from doing. If we add to this approach the recognition that culture and identity are some of the most important aspects for communities when it comes to defining themselves, we understand how culture might play a key role in helping people envisage possibilities for change.

So, if culture is so central to development how is it to be included?

Ideally the best kind of cultural development project is the one that is set up by members of a specific community without too much external interference.

Across the world, examples of people spontaneously using cultural initiatives flourish.

In India, an organisation named Sadak Chaap – literally ‘Stamp of the Street’ – has been created and is run by groups of street children in Bombay. With the help of several ‘grown-up’ groups, the children have succeeded in developing a series of forums in which they can build conceptual bridges with previously unreachable sections of the city.

For twenty years, children have spontaneously gathered every evening to engage in improvisatory performance, ‘jam sessions’, in which, amongst other things, they address issues pertaining to the question of their own development. These sessions have influenced the creation of another forum: a triennial Mela (festival) that has been running since 1989 and that over the space of five days aims at getting 5000-6000 boys together. During the festival, the children spend time together engaging in many activities like cooking, watching films and during the evenings they host different cultural events. Often these events consist in inviting municipal authorities to come and interact with the participants, thus opening up spaces for negotiation for the children to put forth their respective concerns.

Organic culture forms the basis of identity in society – it is here that ideas are born, expressions coined and creativity allowed to flourish. Organic culture is necessarily informed by the social and economic structures in which it is placed; yet this position is not at all static.

Enabling change to take place from below is, unsurprisingly, not a priority at the top, especially if this involves some form of reversal or reshuffling of power. Furthermore, it does not work well with current conceptions of ‘proper’ development programmes.

There is reluctance to release funding for such projects, the outcomes of which are uncertain and cannot be measured with clearly defined indicators of success. But the energy, time and money put into projects aimed at achieving open-ended processes of social transformation are all well spent.

Enabling people to empower themselves, through all the trials and tribulations that this might involve, ultimately makes for a more fair and socially just society.

It might be that here lies the very essence of culture in development: there are no clear-cut practice models to be had, only varied examples from which to draw inspiration. Two main approaches seem to be reinforcing cultural networks and encouraging the emergence of new ideas by striving to create structures that enable people to imagine socially transforming artistic processes. However both approaches might be at odds with the global structures of inequality that are already in place. Because of this, we can only speculate as to how this conflict will dictate the terms of play.

Peruvian Pink Salt is brought to us from the Sacred Valley of the Incas in the Andes Mountains of Peru, slowly carried on the backs of donkeys down the steep descent. In breathtaking scenery where time seems to have stood still, warm water from a spring fed from an underground ocean oozes into terraced ponds and from there the salt is hand-harvested after the water evaporates in the sun, repeating the same cycle for some 2,000 years now. The crystals have a subtle pink colour – due to trace minerals such as iron – and high moisture content.

If alpine destinations are not really your cup of tea, why not dive together with the dolphins of the Pacific Ocean just off the coast of Kona in Hawaii, for some Deep Water Sea Salt? Pure seawater is brought from a depth of 2,000 feet below the ocean’s surface to enclosed spaces where it dries in the sun, without having ever been directly exposed to the pollutants of the environment. This salt consists of moist and snow-white flaky crystals, is extremely pure and rich in trace minerals, and (the good news!) has very low sodium content, making it suitable for a healthy diet.

Hawaii also produces the widely known Red Alaea Sea Salt. From ancient times, the inhabitants of Kauai Island had discovered that a very special salt was forming through sun evaporation during the rain season, when Pacific Ocean water infiltrated with washed-down alaea (red volcanic clay), became trapped in the shoreline tidal pools. This salt has been used since then in sacred ceremonies and healing rituals. Alaea salt is full of goodness and captivating looks, being rich in iron oxide, nutrients and trace-minerals and full of vibrant colour.

Marsupial friends can be visited by proxy via the south-eastern Australian Murray River Salt, worth buying not just because of its superior flavour, but also as an (admittedly symbolic, rather than substantial!) environmental act. Under the Murray Darling Basin there are large quantities of naturally saline water. Although the Basin is flushed by the snowmelt descending from the Alps via the Murray River, salt is making its way into the soil and the groundwater, causing agricultural, ecological and economic concerns. Using the saline water of the Basin for salt extraction improves the environment and produces an exquisite salt at the same time. Murray River salt flakes are crunchy, with a warm peach colour, due to the red pigment of algae that inhabit the brine.

Although salt is inherently related to water, the very popular Himalayan Salt will convey you to a place where you can keep your feet completely dry! This rock salt is from Pakistan and is mined in the Khewra Salt Mines. It is essentially prehistoric sea salt, from seawaters that existed when our planet’s ecosystem was still perfectly unspoiled. The colossal geological phenomena that led to the formation of the Himalayan Mountains and the disappearance of the Tethys Ocean, simultaneously resulted in huge quantities of salt being buried and crystallised deep within the mountains. Himalayan salt is usually light pink, but the exact colour varies depending on mineral content.

Another exciting salt originating from Hawaii is the shiny and (literally!) coal-black Lava Salt from the island of Molokai. This salt, similar to the silvery Cyprus Black Lava Salt, is produced by blending local sea salt with purified black lava rock and activated charcoal. These salts are very rich in minerals and have detoxifying properties. Apart from all these benefits though, isn’t the idea of bringing both exotic Hawaii and a tiny hint of Earth mantle to your plate, with just a single pinch of salt, simply fascinating?

Japan might be surrounded by water, but due to the damp climate Japanese salt is quite rare. Nazuna Salt is produced at the Kyushu island of Japan, inside pyramid-shaped solar houses where it is left to crystallise in dishes made from cypress wood. Jewel of the Ocean is another Japanese salt, produced from mixed deep and surface seawater to achieve a potent mineral content. Evaporation through the sun and the wind and further dehydration in ceramic, hand-made pans inside glass hothouses yields this beautiful salt. The name is derived from the appearance of the salt crystals, which are reminiscent of gemstones, both in terms of looks and quality. This salt is very difficult to find on the market.

And for a more local trip, how about Cornish Sea Salt? It comes from the pristine turquoise waters around Cornwall’s Lizard Peninsula, where salt was produced by the Celts as early as the Iron Age, by boiling seawater in clay pans over open gorse- and hazel-wood fires. Today though, saltwater is steam-evaporated in very modern and environmentally-friendly facilities and the salt is hand-harvested from evaporation pans. The resulting crystals are brilliant white and flaky and – due to the natural way of processing the Atlantic seawater – this is one or the purest sea salts you can find, retaining all of its minerals to the full.

I hope reading this helped you banish those negative thoughts triggered by the bad weather outside! If not, maybe you should try carrying some salt in your pocket for good luck and also throw some over your left shoulder, just for good measure!

For inquisitive cooks: Salt Traders, Beyond the Shaker, Salt Works and Tuareg salt caravans.

The name of the person who first put together a pair of spectacles has been lost in obscurity, however according to Italian documentation this first pair appeared in Pisa at around 1286 AD. It simply consisted of two magnifying glass discs, each mounted on its own frame with a handle, and then the ends of the two handles were hinged together in an inverted “V”, forming in effect a pair of riveted eyeglasses. The tremendous significance of this simple discovery did not go unnoticed. Riveted spectacle production and sale was soon established in the island of Murano and later flourished in Florence from the 15^th century on, thanks to the very skilful and experienced glass craftsmen employed in these areas. Spectacles were predominantly worn by scholars, artisans and monks (primarily to correct long-sightedness, but in some cases also short-sightedness) and were a symbol of scholarly status and wisdom. However, once printed books became available to the public in the 15^th century and even more so when the first newspapers appeared in the 17^th century, the popularity and demand for spectacles rose so dramatically, that spectacles were actually sold by peddlers in the streets.

Riveted spectacles were difficult to keep in place though, because they did not have side-arms and as a result they had to be hand-held from above or balanced on the nose. Not a big problem for solemn monks copying scripts in the tranquillity of a monastery library I would imagine, but certainly terribly inconvenient for more physically active wearers with straight noses! Riveted spectacles became more comfortable when the rivet was substituted by an arched nose bridge which, although heavy and stiff, made these bow spectacles more easy to rest and fit on the nose. Later on, the addition of layered slits gave the bridge extra elasticity. Nuremberg-style nose eyeglasses, made of a single piece of wire with round lenses became very popular from the 17^th century until early in the 19^th century.

All these types of frames however lacked stability. Throughout the centuries different ways were improvised for holding the spectacles in place, for example by fixing them on hat brims or wigs, but spectacle wearers would have to wait for about five centuries until a truly practical and functional way of securing eyeglasses in place was found. The London optician Edward Scarlett started offering temple spectacles in 1727, with short and rigid side-pieces pressed upon the temples and ending in loops for securing the spectacles with ribbons tied at the back of the head. A further development to this design came in 1752 by another London optician, James Ayscough, who invented double-hinged temples, which were more comfortable to wear, putting pressure neither on the nose nor on the temples. ‘Modern’ temples following the curve of the back of the ear appeared only after the middle of the 19^th century. Martin’s margins were very much in style in England in the second half of the 18^th century. These spectacles had horn or tortoiseshell inserts placed within the eyewires of a normal frame, thus reducing the size of the lenses and hence the exposure of the eyes to light. The lenses were often tinted for further protection from excess light, which was considered to be harmful to the eyesight.

It seems though, that the fashion-aware and self-conscious European aristocracy did not find all these sorts of eyewear elegant or stylish enough and would not tolerate all the fastening problems that accompanied them. So, in the 17^th century the short-sighted members of the upper class showed a preference for perspective glasses instead of spectacles. These were single lenses that were hung with a cord around the neck for safekeeping. A quizzer or quizzing glass was popular among men and women alike from the 18^th century onwards and it consisted of a single lens that was held in front of the eye with a short, decorative handle. The lens could be round, oval or rectangular, but the popularity of this sort of vision aid wore out after the middle of the 19^th century. At that time the monocle, which had already been introduced by the Prussian antiquarian Baron Philipp von Stosch in the 1720’s, rose in popularity and remained the gentleman’s favourite choice until approximately the middle of the 20^th century. A monocle is usually a circular lens, either framed or rimless, attached to a string, with the other end fastened to the wearer’s clothes. Contrary to the quizzer, the monocle is slotted in the eye socket, and it is very stable and comfortable to wear when it is custom-manufactured to exactly fit the individual’s eye orbit. The monocle was not simply used to improve vision in one eye, but was a status symbol and conveyed an aura of arrogance and superiority among the members of the gentry. Although nowadays health insurance policies usually do not cover monocles, when vision correction is needed in one eye only there is no particular reason why it could not be provided by a monocle.

Another fashionable kind of spectacles during the second half of the 18^th century, especially in England, France, Germany and Italy, was scissors glasses. Roughly speaking these were like inverted riveted glasses, held from below, but with longer and curved stems and they almost always had round lenses. They were worn both by men and women, with a chain or ribbon through a ring located just below the hinge to secure them around the neck. Early in the 19^th century however their use became rare, and ladies were delighted to start holding lorgnettes instead. These consisted of a conventional spectacle facade, which was held in front of the eyes by a lateral handle. Lorgnettes were as much a piece of jewellery as a vision aid and the handles were highly decorative, often also double-functioning as a case to fold the lorgnettes into. Lorgnettes were made popular at the end of the 18^th century by London optician George Adams Jr. and then at the beginning of the 19^th century Robert Bretell Bate introduced a further innovation: a hinge at the bridge controlled by a spring mechanism allowed the lenses to spring apart or fold flat into a single eyeglass, making the lorgnettes very portable. Towards the end of the 18^th and beginning of 19^th century, fashion reverted to a style of spectacles without side-pieces, which were held in place by pinching the bridge of the nose and were thus very appropriately called pince-nez. There was a huge variety of styles available and different mechanisms to provide elasticity to the nose bridge, for example by using spring clips that terminated in nose pads or by using a flexible piece of metal to make the bridge. These eyeglasses were very popular in the middle class for men and women alike.

The frames for all these different eyewear designs were made of various materials, with wood, horn, bone and leather being more popular in the early centuries, whilst brass, copper, silver, gold, steel, tortoiseshell, baleen, mother-of pearl and ivory were favoured in the later centuries. With spectacles used not just to assist eyesight but quite often as fashion accessories, it goes without saying that exquisitely decorated frames, reminiscent of jewellery, were not uncommon among wealthy wearers. And of course with the fabrication of plastic a whole new era in frame styling dawned.

Nowadays, when it comes to ophthalmic frames, we are completely spoilt for choice. In fact, we have come to think of frames not simply as a way to secure the lenses in the right position in front of our eyes, but also as an extension of our personality and a way to complement and enhance our facial features. A mixture of state-of-the-art scientific and technological expertise, fashion design and advanced craftsmanship guarantees the production of stylish, comfortable and functional frames. Effectively, an endless variety of frame materials, designs and colours are available today, warranting that there is something to suit every taste and every face. “Whatever…”, I hear my optician mumble under his breath… Oh well, maybe I should ask him for a pair of prescription lorgnettes-this would certainly make his day, n’est-ce pas?

To discover more visit:
musEYEum
British Optical Association Museum
The College of Optometrists, London

Spices were anything but cheap, so cost is no explanation for their abundance. Rather, spices became so popular because they offered a taste from an enchanted and far-away world and like all other Arabic or Asian luxury goods, they were a privilege of the upper classes only. The higher the rank of a household, the larger its use of spices, with historians often surprised by the percentage of the noble budget that was spent on spices. Spices like pepper, cinnamon or nutmeg were a kind of status symbol, commonly used instead of currency in financial deals. Rent and taxes could be paid in peppercorns and wealthy people were described as… ’sacks of pepper’. Spices were considered gifts fit for the royalty and were kept under lock, like silver, gold and precious textiles.

Most spices of the middle ages are still in use nowadays: pepper, cinnamon, cassia, cloves, saffron, nutmeg, mace, ginger, cardamom (known back then also as amomum), coriander, cumin, sumac, turmeric, anise, mastic, caraway and mustard, created a dazzling symphony of flavours. The popularity of such spices might have changed over the years-for example saffron was a huge favourite back then, nutmeg was… put into everything, cumin was popular among the wealthy… alcoholics because it gave them a pale complexion and the absence of at least a few cloves from a household was considered a huge embarrassment for the host-but they remain essentially the same. Some other favourite medieval spices however, have today fallen into obscurity and are rare in the western world.

Grains of Paradise (otherwise known as Guinea pepper, Malaguetta pepper or alligator pepper) resemble black pepper in taste, but they are less pungent and more aromatic, like a zesty blend of ginger, cardamom and pepper. The seeds, which are brown and triangular, were brought from the Gulf of Guinea to north Africa and from there were taken to Sicily and Italy. The name of the spice is a clever advertising trick, with traders claiming that the seeds grew only in Eden and were collected from the rivers flowing out of Paradise. They were very popular in the 13^th century and were used as a more affordable substitute for black peppercorns. Today, grains of Paradise are mostly unknown outside west and north Africa, although their popularity has been somewhat revived due to their use in raw food diets and by famous chefs.

Zedoary belongs to the same family as ginger and is native to India and Indonesia. Its rhizome has a smell similar to turmeric, mango and ginger. Although it was popular during the Middle Ages, these days it is extremely rare in the western world, having been replaced almost totally by ginger.

Long pepper is a type of pepper with a stronger flavour than black pepper-hot, but with sweet and earthly tones. Dark brown, about 3-4 cm long, it looks like an elongated miniature-pinecone, consisting of a cluster of tiny berries that are embedded in the surface of a flower spike. It was introduced to the Mediterranean from the south and south-east Asia and, as we learn from Antonio Pigafetta in his Magellan’s Voyage, the natives of Indonesia (where long pepper is indigenous) used to call it luli. It was very popular in the classical era and Medieval Europe, but was pushed aside by the New World chilli pepper and has since fallen into obscurity.

Cubeb seeds (tailed pepper) have a warm woody smell, with a flavour that reminds us of allspice and pepper and look like tiny berries with attached stems. It was imported to Europe from Indonesia by-who else?-the Venetians. Cubeb features in a 14^th century moral tale by the Catalan monk Francesc Eiximenis (in Com Usar bé de Beure e Menjar), in which he illustrates gluttony by mocking the habits of a worldly and wealthy member of the clergy who lives a life of luxury abundant with spices. Cubeb is hardly ever found in European markets today.

Galangal is a plant indigenous to China and Java and belongs to the ginger family as well. Its rhizome is not dissimilar to ginger in taste, with a sweet and highly aromatic citrus character. It is widely mentioned in the literature of the Middle Ages for its medicinal properties. For example, the German abbess and polymath Hildegard of Bingen called it ‘the spice of life’ and wrote that it had been sent by God to protect against illness. As a spice it became popular in England from the time of the Crusades, brought back home from the Middle East. It also appears abundantly in The Forme of Cury, a recipe book written by the cooks of Richard II. It is rarely encountered in Europe today, but is still very popular in Thai cuisine. It remains one of the ingredients of Ras al-hanout, the famous Moroccan spice mix, together with grains of Paradise, long pepper and cubeb, interestingly enough.

Spikenard belongs to the Valerian family and has an aromatic rhizome. It is indigenous to the Himalayas. It was used in the Medieval times mostly in recipes for hippocras (spiced wine), featuring both in The Forme of Cury and Le Ménagier de Paris, a medieval guidebook on a woman’s proper behaviour as a wife and housewife.

Was it more the status of spices as luxury products of mysterious origin or their important medicinal properties that made them so desirable in the Middle Ages? Whatever the reason, the combination of limited supply and high demand shot their price up to unprecedented heights. As the first globally traded product, spices were one of the earliest motivations for globalisation. Who knows how different the world as we know it today would be if the quest for new routes to the Far East, to conquer the countries that produced spices, had not led Christopher Columbus, Ferdinand Magellan and Vasco Da Gama to embark on their epic journeys?

How did your project start?
Spoiled Milk was founded by Casper Hübertz Jørgensen and myself in Bristol, UK back in 2004. The name was a quickly conceived title for some art projects that we were working on in our spare time. We made some short films, designed some artwork for local bands and started creating an (ill-fated) online badge shop. Casper was in the UK for a one-year design course and was due to head back to Denmark in the summer of 2005. I decided to leave my job and go with him so we could continue working together. Four years later we are a fully-fledged web and design company with offices in two countries. 

Why the name Spoiled Milk?
If the criteria for a good brand name is how many times one is asked this question, then we hit a gold mine! I wish we had a more Earth-shattering answer though, but actually there is no rational reason. We were playing around with words and the idea of milk conjured up a lot of visual imagery in our minds – our first website had grass, cows and a loveable milk carton named Louis. We decided to use the more American sounding spelling of the phrase, maybe to sound more exotic, I can’t remember. It’s a name that sticks in people’s mind and that’s a good thing. 

Your offices are based in two of the most liveable cities in the world, Copenhagen and Zürich. How are they in terms of opening a new business?
Yes, this is a strange phenomenon. I chose to move to Copenhagen after a chance meeting with a Dane in Bristol, UK. Then I relocated to Zürich in 2008 because my girlfriend, Lucy, was to start a PhD there. Neither move was based on market-forces or client necessity, but they have both worked out very successfully. Monocle Magazine named Copenhagen as their “Most Liveable City of 2008″. They announced their results for 2009 last month and we discovered that Zürich has now stolen the top spot, pushing the Danish capital down into second place. I can only concur that the tipping point in this decision was my move! 

What are other creative hubs in your view?
There are the obvious European ones: London and Berlin – although I wouldn’t like to establish a business in either. London is a tough environment where at times every idea seems to have already been taken, and Berlin has no money combined with creatives from across the continent willing to work for very little. Both are great for inspirational trips though. In general, I think the concept of creative hubs are only important in the minds of clients. Having a company presence in a hip place still adds a lot of credibility. However, there is no real correlation to where the talented people live. Spoiled Milk works extensively with web-based collaboration tools and despite having two physical offices, we aim for an ‘open laptop’ ethos (the idea that any employee should be able to open a laptop in a café and just work). Because of this we are able to work with great people from across the world. The real creative hub is the internet. 

Has the current economic crisis affected your activity?  Or is this precisely a time when fresh and creative ideas are needed?
We have definitely seen surprising fluctuations in demand for our services. Some parts have fallen away and others are booming. We have always promoted the idea of lightweight, agile solutions. We want to rid the world of ugly, complicated, overbearing enterprise systems and make people’s lives friction-free with simple, functional software and design. In good economic times, it’s hard to convince an organisation that they should ditch that expensive, Microsoft-based network or consider switching from traditional, proven advertising. As soon as people need to cut budgets they start considering all the things we believe in. 

Can you tell us about your work in the music field?
The music industry was where most of Spoiled Milk’s early work was based. We started by designing record covers and were soon getting featured in design magazines and books across the world (see: http://www.russellquinn.com/record-covers/). We then moved into band websites and identities and even directed a full music video. As the company has grown and stabilised we are doing less of this sort of work, although we have just completed a website for Stress, one of the biggest rappers in Switzerland. 

What about the Being Abroad project?
Being Abroad is a project aiming to publish a collection of personal stories about relocating to a foreign country. It has a long and variable history starting in 2005 when my girlfriend and I decided to set up a website asking people to send us in their writing. We wanted to make something that touched on how people feel when they spend at least a month in another county. We weren’t interested in travel guides, but how people’s views on their own lives and culture were changed. After this initial stage we then sent out 10 sketchbooks around the world to 100 people, asking them to write, draw or stick-in their entries. We lost a few on the way and realised what time-consuming logistics something like this involves, but eventually most of them made their way home. From this point onwards things have become a little stagnated. Lucy and I have both moved again and are consequently learning even more about the concept of ‘being abroad’. We have selected the final pieces to appear in the book and have completed the first stage of proof-reading and editing. Hopefully the project will reach its conclusion at some point this year and we can finally make the books available for people. 

Design today – is it about the technology or a well-crafted product or both?
As a computer scientist myself (I spent five years writing compilers and debuggers for a division of Sony) there is no doubt that technology is the biggest enabler of modern times. Every day brings along new wonders in how people can communicate and use technology to enhance their lives and understanding of the world. We want to take these cutting edge ideas and put them into practise for our clients. However, we also believe that without good design to create a practical and emotional user experience, the underlying technology is essentially worthless. We definitely strive to hit the sweet point between art and science.

Where do you find new inspiration for your work?
A mixture of carefully selected internet feeds, combined with debates with colleagues and friends. The internet offers all the visual stimulus a person could ever require, but it’s not until I discuss and dissect these ideas with other people that I can make sense of how to use them in the real world.