A year ago this week my husband and I landed at Heathrow, a little scared, very tired, and bereft of all our possessions bar clothes. It was a long way from a fully furnished 4-bedroom house in Lonehill, Johannesburg, which, in a David Copperfield-like sleight of hand, had been reduced to a suitcase each (and no extra baggage charges). I fully expected that we would be back in South Africa within six months. So did everybody else.

I really could not imagine life without an air-conditioned car, sunshine on tap, good, cheap wine, biltong and droë wors, braais - and most of all - family and friends.

Now, I could not be more at home. England is an odd country: the people are seen as being almost painfully conservative and yet are wildly more tolerant than the proudly democratic Americans. Janet Jackson’s unruly boob provided hours of amusement here, but she narrowly escaped being shot at dawn in the States.

The weather is not great in winter but, when summer comes, you couldn’t wish for a more beautifully green, lush destination. In fact, it becomes disconcertingly tropical and sweaty. Kinda like Durban.

But even winter has its charm: because daylight saving reduces what sunlight there is even further, your best bet is to spend your free time holed up in a pub with a pile of scurrilous tabloid newspapers. I can think of worse ways to pass some time, and how else can you catch up with Prince William’s pig farming ventures or Naomi Campbell’s VPL? Winter is also the only time of the year that it is perfectly acceptable to find yourself still/back in bed at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon.

The brief days of snow are just gorgeous. There is nothing like the sight of Clapham Common blanketed in white early in the morning, the sun glinting off the trees. It is enough to make you late for work. It gets a bit ugly when it melts, though: the pinstriped City brigade don’t look so together sprawled on their Hugo Boss bums.

And it does rain a lot here. But not as much as I expected. London is often covered with droopy, claustrophobia-inducing grey clouds, sometimes for weeks on end, but they seem to battle to give up their load, managing only a light drizzle now and then. The only true storm I have seen was the one that quite literally shorted out the SA Freedom Day bash at Trafalgar Square - but the homeboys and girls were thrilled with the Highveld-like thunder, green sky, lightning, hail and knee-high flooding.

But the pain of winter, like childbirth – as any mother will tell you, is forgotten as soon as it’s over. In summer the parks are full of people lapping up the sunshine, playing football and “braai-ing” on little tinfoil contraptions from Tesco.

A braai in England, for the uninitiated, consists of a very small coal fire, on which one crucifies vast numbers of pork sausages and burger patties (all meat must be overcooked - the legacy of the damn mad cows). Sometimes the adventurous extend to a pork chop. These are served with bread and tomato sauce. Yum yum. No steak, no boerrie, no chicken, no potatoes in foil (no room), no sweetcorn basted with garlic butter, seldom any salads.

And, despite being surrounded by water, the English are not that great with seafood either. A big hit with the locals is a pint of prawns, served cold, usually with black and white prawn spawn eggs attached in their millions to the legs. Not appetising, I can tell you. Mussels come replete with beards and sandy bits, and fish is usually encased in about a kilogram of batter and lard, and then drenched in industrial-strength vinegar. My husband dreams of the Fishmonger in Bryanston and talks lovingly of the Codfather in Cape Town.

The other big adjustment on the catering front is that ice is almost unheard of. I am told (by an Englishman) that it is because space is at such a premium that the supermarkets don’t stock those lovely big packets of ice and most people don’t feel the need to make their drinks any colder than fridge temperature. It takes some getting used to. Then again, we are talking about a nation that gets most of their “refreshment” from endless cups of dismal looking tea.

I asked for ice for my nice, but tepid, glass of white Burgundy the other night. The response from our breathlessly horrified vintner? “Mah-dam, surely you jest.”

On the bright side, the English do junk food and confectionery that makes up for everything else. The biscuits are amazing, the choices of chocolate are endless, the puddings are as stodgy and heart-breaking as they should be, and it all shows in the ever-burgeoning population … never more so than in summer, when everybody feels it is okay to bare their milky white, tattooed torsos to the world.

But the real beauty of living here is that you really do feel like you are at the centre of the world. History is happening all around you. I was in Southampton when the unbelievably huge and beautiful Queen Mary II sailed into port for the first time, and I was on London Bridge when the last four Concordes flew over the City and banked towards Heathrow to land for the final time – purely by chance on both occasions. I have now actually attended the Oxford-Cambridge boat race, and watched Arsenal beat Leeds 5-0 at Highbury, where it slowly dawned on me why football is more popular than God in this country.

You can fly to Jamaica and stay in a hotel for two weeks for the cost of a return flight between Jo’burg and Cape Town. You can stand in front of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers or Da Vinci’s Virgin on the Rocks any time you want. You can watch Romeo and Juliet at Shakespeare’s Globe theatre for £5. If you move house, all your electricity, gas and telephone transfers are sorted out in a couple of hours over the internet or on the phone. If you post a letter, it arrives at its destination the next day - unopened. It really is a different world.

Socially, it’s tough to break into an English social circle, but the glut of Aussies, Kiwis and other South Africans are inclined to gravitate towards each other and it is a comforting fact of life that we all miss home (home being South, in a broad sense) as much as each other. And we know where to go to for meat on an open fire.

So, a year on, I feel privileged to be living here, and I love it despite thinking I would not. The history, the culture, the people are all wonderful, the countryside is beautiful and there is so much to see and do. It is almost like being permanently on holiday - a feeling that happily doesn’t change much when you are at work, in the great British tradition of not overextending oneself.

If you have mastered the art of drinking a pint at any given time of day, if you can share very small spaces deep underground with complete strangers, if you understand the socio-political importance of the Beckhams, if you can learn to not ask for anything too directly or in too insistent a manner, and if you can carry a month’s worth of groceries and an ironing board on and off two buses, one Tube and a mile on foot, you too could be a Londoner.
by Lisa Macleod

• Austria
• Belgium
• Denmark
• Finland
• France
• Germany
• Greece
• Iceland
• Italy
• Luxembourg
• Netherlands
• Norway
• Portugal
• Spain
• Sweden

The aim of the Schengen agreement is to allow free movement of people within the territory of member countries.

To apply for a Schengen visa you always have to apply for the visa from the embassy of the country that is the main destination on your first trip. This is the country where you are spending the most number of nights. And depending on the validity of the visa, you are able to use the same visa to travel to any of the other member countries.

The visa requirements are normally based upon a reciprocal agreement between the governments of two countries or in this case a group of countries. Because of a past agreement, SA passport holders still need to apply for a Schengen visa. Required documents include: proof of travel, accommodation, employment, and proof of sufficient spending money. Recently the embassy have been issuing 6-month multiple entry visas to most applicants, and depending on your UK visa status and the number of previous applications, you can get a 12-month visa. Those who travel regularly on business can also obtain this 12-month visa, though there are further requirements.

Over the past 12 to 18 months, the application process at the French embassy has drastically changed. The big contributing factor is the pressure put on the embassy and the staff with the total volume of applications received. This has led to the embassy reducing the number of visas they process each day and setting up an appointment system similar to a system used by the other Schengen embassies.

To apply at the embassy directly you must make an appointment (by phoning their premium rate number) and take your documents to the embassy on the day specified. This could be very time consuming as the appointments are normally booked out for up to 4 weeks or more, and will involve you spending almost half a day at the embassy.

Visa Agencies have been restricted to only 10 applications a day. Due to the high demand of applications most companies fill their allotted spots quickly.

Says Charles Butler, senior consultant at Rapid Visas, an agency that deals with travel visa applications: “People travelling on short notice struggle to get a visa on time, or even get a visa at all. (During the peak summer season) our consultants are only able to help people travelling 4 weeks (later), due to the backlog. Normally our backlog is at 2 weeks.”

Rapid Visas can be contacted through their website at 1stcontact.

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Let it Snow, let it snow, let it snow…

It’s a bit weird being a South African in England over Christmas time. We have been discussing this at length lately, and it is the feeling of all my countrymen over here that we are somewhat out of our depth, and a little lost during the festive season. And we think we know what to blame: Christmas cards.

We were wondering why it is that, year after year, people in extremely warm climes insist on celebrating the festive season by sending each other cards festooned with snow, holly, mistletoe, robins, deer and other quintessentially English symbols. As a child, I recall quite clearly staring at another snow-covered hedgerow kinda card and feeling a bit cheated. It seemed the people who lived in England were obviously having a more Christmassy Christmas than we in South Africa were, as they apparently lived in the Land of Christmas, while we definitely did not

Why is it that we don’t have cards with blazing suns, long sandy beaches, blue seas, thorn trees, mousebirds and impalas pulling the sleigh? It would be so much more fun, and at least our little ‘uns wouldn’t feel so far away from all the action. South African kids must be perpetually terrified that the frosted Santa on our cards would give up out of sheer exhaustion somewhere around the equator, abandoning the children of the south to plastic fir trees sans gifts. We have all breathed a sigh of relief that the practice of sending anything using the Poskantoor is probably dead and buried by now, hopefully along with the cards.

We also remembered the Christmas lunch palava in SA: our poor grans and moms sweating in the kitchen on the hottest day of the year, and then the whole family sitting down to a full English roast in our cracker paper hats and swimming costumes. What were we doing? And these are families that were rather dismissive of the rest of the world’s politics, some generations away from any distant settlers, and in no way overly enamoured of the English. But still, the traditions linger.

One set of close family friends even undertakes what they call The Abomination every year: a turkey stuffed with a deboned duck, stuffed with a chicken, stuffed with something smaller, until there is no room left. It’s spectacular, but hard work in the middle of December

Its also hard work to eat such vast spreads in the heat. Our family has slowly succumbed over the years to a more manageable Christmas lunch – usually cold meats and a huge selection of salads, eaten in shifts for a couple of days from Christmas Eve to Boxing Day – by which stage everybody is strictly on liquids only anyway and more interested in dancing than eating.

But now, as fully grown adults living and working in the place where Christmas is at its best, it is all familiar – you’ve seen it on a card, you know the words to the songs, but you don’t quite know how to behave or what to expect. So, some pointers to help the England-bound Saffers, products of those sunny, laid back, sunburny, salty, relaxed Christmasses past, through the biggest test of your life. Good luck.

1.) Chrimbo means Christmas. I only just found that out and I have been here for three years. I don’t know why they say Chrimbo, but apparently its quite commonly used.

2.) If you don’t know what an Advent Calendar is or how to use, don’t touch it. You may think its just a row of chocolates hidden under little flaps, but its not. Its some kind of special tradition that all little kids and adults in the whole of Europe know about – you are only allowed to eat one chocolate a day in the lead up to Christmas. My dear friend Clynton found this out the hard way after having a little snack attack on his boss’s advent calendar, and she got all shrieky about it and humiliated him in front of his colleagues. Do not ever eat more than one chocolate, and always get permission first. Trust me, he’s not the only one this has happened to.

3.) If somebody offers you a glass of mulled wine, no matter how good it smells, make sure you will have access to a Rennies at some point in the very near future, or your day will be ruined with the worst kind of indigestion you have ever experienced. Apparently, and I have this on good authority, mulled wine is made of all the dregs of all the bad wine ever bought on package holidays in Spain and Portugal. It will give you the burn so bad it might even prevent you from eating ….

4.) ...five roast meats, thirteen vegetables, three kinds of potato and seven desserts, as well as cheeses, biscuits, fruit, chocolate, liqueur and coffee or tea. Yup, Christmas lunch is huge in these parts. Be prepared and don’t go mad on the “before bits” because there won’t be room for the middle and after bits – and it isn’t really “bits” in the true sense of the word. More like shovels full.

A few days of fasting before might help but then your tum may have shrunk too much to accommodate the onslaught. There is something called a Norman Hole – a shot of Calvados or Armagnac – which, I am told, helps settle things down and make some more room. Best had after the 13th course is cleared off the table and before the 14th is brought along on a reticulated truck.

5.) Back on to cards. People send cards here when you get a new car, a new job, a divorce, a new house, a boob job – for just about everything. It’s the way its done. So it goes without saying that a lot of self-worth relies on the number and quality of Chrimbo cards changing hands. When people talk about a “Christmas card list” in this country, they mean it. They aren’t being funny. Just do it. It only takes a few hours, a cramped hand and a trip to the Post Office in the sleet. Oh, and before you think its all over, its appropriate to send a thank you card to the people who hosted you for lunch. (Then they send you one back saying it was a pleasure, and then you send … you can see how it gets messy)

6.) Do not make jokes about the Queen’s speech. Only the English are allowed to do that. You can laugh at their jokes but don’t try it yourself. Just because the old bird is terminally out of touch with the nation doesn’t mean that they won’t, to a person, tune in to hear her wish them Happy Christmas. It’s important, so take it easy on the booze until it’s all over. (Unless you want to fake a tear or two – go for the G&T.) Depending on who you are lunching with, you may want to try the Alternative Queen’s Speech on another channel, but don’t push the issue.

7.) Everybody has different views on presents, but in my experience there is one simple rule: quantity is everything. One present with a decent value is never going to match up to the sheer greedy abandon of opening ten or twenty Pound Shop beauties, so keep ‘em coming, thick and fast.

8.) Try hard to avoid carrying on and on and on about the weather and what you would be doing if you were home. They don’t really care and after a while somebody will suggest you might want to get on a plane and get back there as soon as possible to enjoy the sunshine.

9.) Finally, have a wonderful Christmas, and a great New Year, wherever you are. It’s only one day and before you know it it will be February (and the decorations will be back in the shop windows for next year…)

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