Gap year in the UK
Life on a kibbutz in Israel was great, I made a lot of friends, and for the first time, at the age of 23 left the borders of South Africa, to gain a new and alternative perspective of the world out there. There is, however, just so much time one can spend on a kibbutz until there are no new experiences. As a kibbutz volunteer one makes very little money, just enough for a couple of trips around Israel .... but on a Coke budget, in less than pristine youth hostels, usually bunking up with 20 other budget travellers, depending on rides, hitchhiking because even the bus fares are out of your range, one may long yet again for a more luxurious mode of travel. Thus, there came a time to seek other playgrounds and new experiences. My heritage is European, yet I've never even set foot in Europe.
In 1994, when South Africa became a democracy, we were suddenly exposed to a whole world out there. After being stuck in a cocoon of Apartheid, for the first time, we could get a peek at how the rest of the world lived. With sanctions being something of the past, suddenly having a South African passport was not such a bad thing. We could travel again and see the world. The UK opened its borders to young South Africans to go and have a working holiday, meaning they could legally work in the UK and save to travel. Many young South Africans, with the onset of Affirmative Action and BEE quota rates in South Africa, are still in the UK after all these years, as a caucasian skin and name meant that in the New South Africa, one almost had no access to good employment opportunities.
I completed my law degree at the end of 1996 and was thus part of the initial groups of young whites to go and look for adventure, whilst being gainfully employed. One must take into consideration that the Rand was very weak against the Pound and that by doing unskilled labor in Britain, considering the exchange rate, one could make more money as a kitchen porter in the UK, than a lawyer in South Africa. In my final Criminal law class at the end of my studies, prior to our final exam, the lecturer asked us what we were going to do once we have graduated. half the class stated that they were going to do their articles, the other half was going to go to law school. When the lecturer asked whether anybody was going to do something different, I reluctantly raised my hand and said that I was going to travel for a year. Everyone laughed at me, snickering, not understanding why someone would sacrifice a career in the legal profession to go and travel..... the horror.
I wasn't deterred by their snide remarks, it was something I have dreamt about. Nobody told me that it would be a good idea, I always had this inner drive to see the world. I have this memory of when I was 6 years old, in Grade 1 and this married couple came to the school and showed us their slides (still had projector slides in those days) of their travel experiences in Africa. The undertook this journey in their little red VW Beetle and crossed Africa with it. It fascinated me, it stuck with me. I wanted to see places that very few people would dare to see.
Whilst in Israel, working on a kibbutz during the summer of 1997, I made an effort to get a working holiday visa for the UK. In July and August, I worked many extra private jobs, like gardening, to get the money together for my trip to the UK. Finally, with everything in place, I boarded a plane at Ben Gurion airport at the end of August 1997 and flew to London arriving on the 31st. Why is this date significant? Why is it imprinted so strongly onto my memory? As I arrived in London, my friends with whom I was going to stay until I find a job, told me that Diana was just in a big car accident in Paris. A couple of hours later, the BBC confirmed her death. My first day in London, on the 1st of September, was filled with memories of people laying flowers everywhere, to pay tribute to her life.
Rick, Anton, and a few other South Africans shared a flat in Shepherd’s Bush. They invited me to stay with them until I could find a job. I really didn't have much money after my trip to the UK, so I was very relieved that I wouldn't have to stay in some sleazy youth hostel. Plus, I could converse in my own language. At that time I've already been away from home for about 6 months, so it helped to be with people from my own culture. I remember I spent that first week looking at the job ads in the TNT magazine, phoning people up. I struck gold when the executive chef of Champney's Health Spa, in Hertfordshire offered me a position as kitchen porter with live-in benefits. I could live for free at the staff quarters and earn 500 BP a month, making sure that the chefs had clean cooking utensils.
I consequently made the move down to the Health Spa that was situated in the Hertfordshire countryside, about 2 km from a small village called Wiggington. The closest big towns included Tring and Berkhampstead. So, I started as a kitchen porter at Champney's in September. The kitchen was under renovation and housed in a temporary complex of temporary buildings. This is where I spent approximately 9 hours per day, 5 days a week, scrubbing pots and pans for the chefs. Tommy and Allan were my fellow kitchen porters and we worked in shifts. Later I organized a job for a friend of mine, who at that time found that Brussell sprout picking was a lot more challenging than what I was doing. So, Carel joined me and he washed dishes in the section next door.
This is where I would remain for 4 months. I managed to get a job as a barman on the weekends at the Greyhound pub in Wiggington, where I got to meet almost everyone in the village. Carel, being 6 foot 3, also attracted a lot of attention as we attended Church services at the Wiggington Baptist Chapel, whose congregation counted no more than 20 old people. Each Sunday, after the service, we were invited for lunch at one of the member's home.
After that time Carel and I got jobs as barmen at the Wayfarer hotel in Milton Keynes. I was tired of washing dishes, and we saw this as a promotion. I stayed at the Wayfarer hotel only 6 weeks before I returned home. That concluded my gap year away from home for the first time....well excluding my Military service of a year prior to my studies.
I often also took trips to London with the train to explore. One day, one of the restaurant managers at Champneys, a Scot called John, invited me to go to Oxford with him to explore the town. I saw Dover twice, as we crossed the English Channel twice, once for a weekend trip to Paris to watch SA play France in Rugby, and once to visit old Kibbutz acquaintances from Holland all over Holland. I spent 10 days in Holland, exploring Amsterdam, Maastricht, and Emmen.
So without further ado, here are some picture highlights to better clarify what I stated above ....
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| On the London Underground or 'Tube' - "Mind the gap" |
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| On Tower Bridge, London 1997 |
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| London arrival, 31 August 1997 |
Kitchen porter @ Champney's Health Spa
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| The main hotel, postcard picture perfect |
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| Champney sites & sights |
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| The main mansion converted into a hotel |
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| Autumn splendor |
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| The main access road from the gate to the hotel and staff quarters |
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| Champney's in winter - 22 December 1997 |
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| Summer time |
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| Really??? Berkhampstead 1997 |
Workplace: The kitchen
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| Step into my office |
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| Friends & Co-workers |
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| Relaxing in my room after a hard day's work |
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| The kitchen & wash-up area |
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| CEO of my own domain |
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| My 'office' |
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| Welsh Sous Chef, Robert, who spoiled me with his creations |
Rest & Relaxation
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| Snowball fight |
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| We were allowed to use the same gym as the guests |
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| 22 December 1997 at the staff quarters |
Barman @ the Greyhound pub in Wiggington
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| Wiggington sites |
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| The main road through Wiggington - Chesham Road |
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| Carel at the outskirts of the village. Behind him Chesham road leads to the entrance of Champney's |
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| At the entrance of the Greyhound pub, Chesham Road, Wiggington |
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Wag, a regular at the pub. He was 85 at that time and a veteran of World War 2.
I loved his stories. He fought all over Africa and Europe with Montgomery and survived the ordeal. |
Barman @ the Wayfarer hotel
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| The Wayfarer hotel at Willen Lake, Milton Keynes |
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| The original pamphlet I kept as a memento |
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| Near the front entrance of the hotel which faced the lake |
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| Willen Lake and the Wayfarer hotel behind me |
Trips to London
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| Policemen on horseback patrolling |
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| London sites |
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| Sites we visited |
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| On the 'Tube' |
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| In front of Buckingham Palace |
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| Carel & Fiona, a Dutch friend in Hyde Park |
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| Carel and I in front of Hyde Park gates |
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| Carel in Hyde Park |
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| Funny guy |
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| Nice job |
Weekend trip to Paris
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Weekend in Paris to visit soem sites and watch SA play France in a Rugby Test Match
November 1997 |
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| Paris trip highlights |
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| Paris trip highlights |
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| Crossing the English Channel by ferry - approaching Calais |
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| Carel on the ferry in Calais |
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Accordion player entertaining us at St Germain des Pres Restaurant in Paris
21 November 1997 |
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| Paris street scenes |
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| Central Paris |
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| With Carel in Paris |
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| Paris |
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Rugby test match between SA and France at Parc des Princes stadium
22 November 1997 |
Ten-day tour of the Netherlands
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| Riverboat on river - Valkenburg |
Amsterdam
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| My favorite pic of Holland |
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| Windmills & Bicycles |
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| Amsterdam highlights |
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| Canal scenery |
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| Canal scenery |
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| View of the harbor |
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| Amsterdam architecture |
Valkenburg & Emmen
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| Holland highlights |
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| Riverside - Valkenburg |
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| Valkenburg |
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At Willen Lake, Milton Keynes
Just before I returned home |
I returned home to South Africa in Mid February 1998, after nearly a year in Israel and the UK. I covered five countries in that time period. This was my first trip abroad, an eye-opener and it changed my perspective on life considerably. It sparked many future travels and adventures, and once the travel bug has bit you, it's hard to stop ...
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