Every bastard year. Crimes against cheese.
When you get a lift back from the conference and stop on your friends house boat. And then, they drive another little boat through Amsterdam to the central station for your connecting train to the airport. That.
3 years since my @nuffieldfarming
journey brought me to Maastricht for the first time and set a new path for my career. This is my 4th International Conference In Cultured Meat. Wonderful to see that industrial food waste is now being utilised in scientific research on how to utilise those nutrients that still remain in simple products like egg shells and fish bones. It’s fantastic to see how this nascent industry is developing and embracing a multi industry approach.
Speaking to a void. Rehearsing a pitch over an over in my Brooklyn hotel room. Notes amended countless times, demo prepped. All that remains is for me to deliver. It’s an odd life being a founder; travel, chain hotels, hours of laptop screen time and seeing very little of the places you visit. 2 days in Brooklyn, 2 days travelling, one meeting. Home tomorrow.
Ghost AirTrain. Awaiting NJ Transit to Manhattan.
Impromptu date night with @katiellloydjones
doing it in a 1980’s style. Tiramisu, two spoons, strong coffee and peppermint creams. Just like our parents before us.
Work takes me to some interesting places. Harsh, yet beautiful.
Not quite the end of the holiday that either of us had imagined. Thank heavens for the #nhs
once again and for looking after @katiellloydjones.
Minor bonus, good seats to watch the rugby.
do you remember that time when I said, “I’d like to go for a drive in the Atlas Mountains”. Sounded like a good plan, right? It might have been a little nail biting in the car, especially when the driver was texting whilst overtaking on the hairpin bend but those olive groves, apple, and cherry orchards were a welcome relief from the grime of Marrakesh. That guide our driver just plucked from the town square didn’t quite understand “a small walk” did he. I’m so glad you were wearing your fatbit, you can forever tell me of that day we climbed 1000m upwards and that we both turned a shade of puce. I especially enjoyed the tale our guide relished telling us three times about the fat American tourist who had died on the roof of his house after finishing that very walk. It was as if he were some Moroccan oracle, about to have a premonition that it would happen again. Ok, I admit it, it wasn’t what I had planned. Do you think the Instagram fodder and the best lunch of the trip goes somewhere towards making things ok? I’m asking now, rather than tomorrow when we’re both too stiff to walk.
Staying in the Kasbah bordering the Jewish quarter within the Medina of Marrakesh, the nearest souk is about 20ft from our Riad door. Fortunately it’s a food market that’s purely frequented by locals. It isn’t even open at 10am, but trades late, through the day and into the night. It bustles with traders and shoppers until way past our bed time. Further north are the tourist souks with their plates, fabrics and shonky spices. They still have some amazing shops though, we bought olives and a huge jar of preserved lemons 🍋 for less than £2. We indulged and bought some knock off gear and I even got myself some traditional Berber-wear to lounge around the house.
A stunning exhibit at the Palace El Badi. Taken from the Marrakesh Photographic Museum collection and from the Israeli Institute. The main square in Marrakesh was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site a few years ago. It has little of its original character. It has the monkeys, snake charmers and dentists of old but purely for tourists. Gone are the farmers and mountain people bringing their wares to be sold. Fighting your way through the fake watches, illuminated plastic toys and knock-off perfume it’s hard to see the real Morocco, but it does still exist here.