London: Part 2
I spend the second day in bed with what I am becoming more and more certain is some super-rare killer virus, but realize it’s just a bad cough. During the night, the Intertribal Agriculture Council (IAC) arranges us for to attend an international dinner hosted by the organizers of the IFE show. It is held in Canary Wharf, the new financial district of London, at a lovely restaurant called Smollensky’s. Behind me is the Reuters news ticker and stock listing. As we eat our meal, I peer back over my shoulder and see not one stock is up and it makes me shudder slightly. Here we are at an international dinner hosted by an international food show and all around us one of the most hectic economic times seen by any generation rages on.
I laugh and enjoy our great meal and the good company. I am flanked by the Jamaican trade group, our USDA contact and a Dutchman who speaks no less than five languages working for SUSTA (Southern United States Trade Association). We visit about exporting, language education and the economy as our three-course dinner comes to us served on steaming platters. I have the prawns for appetizer, chicken for the main, and chocolate mousse for the dessert. Our host checks in to make sure our conversations are getting on well and it is interesting to see the techniques of the dinner party being used so well -- and I can observe objectively because dinner parties are not really part of my Kyle/Porcupine/Rapid City existence.
During our third day of the show, the Honorable Stephen Coen, Councilor of Manchester (home of the great footballers Manchester United!) arranges for our team to visit the INSIDE of Parliament. This is a big deal! Most English people don’t ever go to the inside of Westminster Palace and on my first trip across the pond, we enter the halls of England’s powerful elite.
We pass through security and one of our group gets their pocketknife taken from them and destroyed. It is illegal to carry a blade on your person, no matter the size. Just another reminder that I’m not on the rez anymore. We enter Westminster Hall, which was built in 1097 and is the site where funerals are held for important members of state. This is how far they let us take our cameras in. We move on to the House of Commons and each hallway is more impressive than the last. Huge oil paintings of dukes and lords cover the walls and the stairs are made of marble and wide enough for five stout men to walk side by side. Along the sides of the halls are busts and sculptures of lawmakers and architects.
We go up further and further into the House of Commons until we enter a long hallway that is the entrance to the committee rooms. Our guide has a pass that allows them free access but we are given permission to just walk down and observe the outside of the thick oaken doors. One of the police officers inside opens a door for us, “Not much point of going all this way and looking at doors. Wouldn’t be much of a story to tell the folks back home.” And then we enter one of the committee rooms of the House of Commons.
I have been to many Capitol buildings, including Congress in Washington, D.C., but they all pale in comparison. This place is regal, no doubt about it. In the center of the committee room are tables lined in a square with the tabletops and seat covers made of green leather. Green is the color of the House of Commons and red the color of the House of Lords. The bottom of the walls is polished oak and the tops stretching far above our heads are covered with ornate velvet green wallpaper inlaid with ivy vines and it looks awesome. On each wall is a hand-painted oil portrait of an Old Lord. The paintings are as tall as giants and the gilded frames are impressive to look at. The ceiling has incredibly intricate woodwork; it almost looks like antlers or complicated spirals. The carpeting is lush under my feet and I see chairs lined along the far left wall where select members of the public are allowed to witness the proceedings. It is funny to see that after gazing upon the sheer opulence and simple show of wealth and power, I am shocked when I look down at the table and see the House of Commons drink water out of Dixie cups! Lol. I expected handcrafted crystal or maybe jeweled goblets. I don’t know, anything but little plastic cups. Ha ha!
One our way out, we are stopped by the formal procession of The Speaker of the House of Commons. He is the highest-ranking member of the House of Commons and known as First Commoner of the Land. Everyone ceases to talk, stands and removes their hats. A Herald shouts in a loud voice that echoes throughout the room, “SPEAKER!” His entourage moves at a formal military clip walking only in straight lines. They are all wearing black robes and white wigs. One man holds a scepter -- I’m guessing a symbol of this office -- while a lady carries the tails of his robes. There are two more in his group who I believe their sole job is to walk solemnly and look impressive. They make a good job of it. As he paces by, he looks on our ragtag group of American food peddlers and smiles and waves in a sublime way.
I buy a teddy bear and some chocolate from the House of Commons gift shop and I ask where all the House of Lords merchandise is.
“The House of Lords does not do that sort of thing.”
“Is that because they are Lords?”
“I am quite certain that I cannot answer that question.”
They are very posh over at the gift shop. lol
I wish I had my camera on me. We spend the next hour or so in Harrods of London and it is an expensive and cool department store. Each section has its own motif and style, which changes depending on the wares inside. The food halls make your belly rumble and when you walk by the shoes, you have to ask yourself, “Do I need a $400 pair of sneakers?” lol. Fine food, expensive clothes; it is a window shopper’s dream.
This was a good day for us and the team back at the food show were real troopers for holding down the fort.
Our final day was a good and long one, visiting with other exhibitors and waiting for the time we get to head out the door and kick our boots off. Most of the food shows Tanka Bar attends are 1 to 3 days affairs and this 4-day event is a little more than I ‘m used to.
Here are some of the things that were said about the Tanka Bar and Natives in general:
- “Buffalo and cranberry? Brilliant!”
- “Oh quite tasty, that is! Cheers, mate.”
- “This made from real buffalo? I thought that was some kind of metaphor.”
- “I don’t eat meat.” “That’s OK I don’t eat vegetables.” lol
- “Bit like biltong, ennit?” (Biltong is South African hard jerky)
- “Back home in Nigeria, we would call this suya, fruit mixed with meat.”
- “Now that’s surprising!”
- “You the ones that done in Custer? Son, shake the hand of a real Indian!” (one of my fav quotes of the whole trip!)
- “That hot one creeps up on you a bit.”
- “No shortage of Tatanka back home, is there?” (Whenever someone says tatanka you know they just watched “Dances with Wolves.”)
- “I like where you’re going with this, no need to start a war to get your land back. Make love and good food and soon enough your home will be yours.” (This caught me off guard.)
- “The cranberry adds a sweetness to it.”
- “This the buffalo bar everyone been talkin’ ‘bout?”
And my favorite British lingo that they use in no particular order: Rubbish, cheers, sky rocket (for pocket), bob’s your uncle, smashing, brilliant, mate, posh, and wicked.
As we tear down the booth, we are in a laughing, smart-aleck mood and get inspired when the event staff are clearing the floor of guests and visitors. They ask the foreman of the work crew next to us, “He with you?”
“Not all the time.”
And when it’s our turn, “Do you have business here, sir?”
“Met some distributors and a handful of retail locations, just need to bang out the details of importation.”
Lol, I am pretty sure that is not the answer he was looking for.
Our trip to London was a success! We know there are people who want to taste the Tanka Bar and sell it. Until next time loyal friends, Tanka Bar out.
