It's supposed to be a no-go city. But I went anyway, and loved it
The first Indians arrived in South Africa as indentured labourers in the 1860s. The country has 1.2 million people of Indian origin. Apart from Birmingham in England, Durban has more ethnic Indians than any other city outside India.
Mahatma Gandhi spent two decades of his early life in Durban, working as a lawyer and getting involved in the civil rights campaign. Our next stop is his house in Inanda township, which tells the story of his activism among the Indian community, and its influence on black activism.
The story has a fitting coda as we continue on to nearby Ohlange High School, founded by John Dube, first president of the African National Congress (ANC). Nelson Mandela cast his vote in the first democratic South African election here in 1994. He walked to Dube's grave afterwards and said: 'I have come to report, Mr President, that South Africa is now free.'
Later we arrive in our guide Madoo's home district, Chatsworth, to visit Sri Sri Radha Radhanath Temple, a moated, lotus-shaped eruption in marble, brass and glass, hung with chandeliers and bright with Hindu ceiling frescoes.
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Beside the temple, a vast catering tent is doling out free lunches to anyone who wants one. No sign of police officers or dark alleys here. The only strangers are ladies in gaudy saris eager for a chat, jewellery clanking from their ears.
I've had a great day. I like Durban, which is just as well, because we're in port overnight. I'm emboldened by my first encounter with it. Tomorrow I'll be off on my own, discovering more of a city that deserves attention.
THE DETAILS
CRUISE
Regent Seven Seas Cruises' 14-night Lagoons, Safaris and Dunes cruise return from Cape Town departs January 13, 2026, and visits Walvis Bay, Port Elizabeth, East London, Durban and Mossel Bay. From $13,390 a person including all dining, speciality restaurants, beverages, Wi-Fi, gratuities, laundry service and shore excursions. See rssc.com
The writer travelled as a guest of Regent Seven Seas Cruises.
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The Advertiser
a day ago
- The Advertiser
Asia's best cheap hotels? Two surprising cities go head-to-head
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Nearby Glodok has been Jakarta's Chinatown for centuries. Here, you can wander the atmospheric jalans (streets), enjoy Sino-Indian tucker and browse the photogenic Petak Sembilan food market. Jakarta offers a richer experience than Kuala Lumpur. One Aussie dollar brings in about 10,000 Indonesian rupiah but only three Malaysian ringgits. A hundred bucks makes you an Indo-millionaire, and there are more than 150 shopping malls and markets to splash your millions in Jakarta, one of Asia's underrated shop-ortunities. In the Menteng district, you'll find the top-end Grand Indonesia Mall and Plaza Senayan, as well as Jalan Surabaya Flea Market, where you can buy antiques, wood carvings and batik, along with remarkably inexpensive Rolex watches. Haggling is de rigueur, and a phrase I remember from my high school Bahasa Indonesia - terlalu mahal (too expensive) - will come in handy, and earn you a bit of jalan cred. For fun, ask for a written guarantee for the "Rolex" and watch the shopkeeper duck like a CEO at a Coldplay concert. Indonesia is rightly proud of its independence. If you thought getting Western Australians on board with Federation was tough, try throwing off the yoke of colonial European and Japanese wartime occupation, and uniting 300 million people spread across 17,000 islands. This incredible story is told at a museum at the base of Monas (the National Monument of Indonesia). The most iconic landmark in Jakarta, Monas is topped with a sculpture of a golden flame, and the 130-metre-high observation deck offers the best views in town. The Selamat Datang Monument is another much-loved sculpture, erected in 1962 to symbolise the nation's sense of identity and opening up following independence. "Selamat datang" means "welcome" and provides a useful segue to greet today's guest co-columnist, Mark Dapin. Mark is filling in for Amy Cooper, who is taking a week off to throw a haggis or some such bollocks with her family in the northern UK. This is a tough first gig for Mark. Kuala Lumpur, which means "muddy river confluence", is steamier than a noodle stall and in desperate need of navigable footpaths. Still, at least he wasn't tasked with defending Kabul, Ryanair or Mark Latham. Kuala Lumpur: The delicious, dazzling, dirt-cheap dream city Props to Mal for defending the indefensible - but that's only ever going to end one way, isn't it? I've always had a soft spot for Kuala Lumpur, and it's somewhere near my wallet. The city boasts some of the cheapest decent hotels in the world: on a good night, you can pick up a queen room at a Hilton Garden Inn for an amazing $44. Good pubs in Jakarta are generally pricier and more business-oriented, because nobody ever goes there on holiday. Malaysian Indian cuisine is the best food on the planet, and ideally eaten from a banana-leaf "plate" at a banana leaf rice restaurant in KL's (very) little India, Brickfields. Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur. Pictures by Shutterstock Cluey diners will mix and mash a meat curry, a scoop of dahl and a palette of vegetable side dishes into one single glorious affirmation of the supremacy of South Asian spices, and wash it all down with a glass of lime juice. And local Malaysian street food specialties may well be the second biggest collection of edible treats on Earth. Roti canai and murtabak are peerless in the panoply of bread, and you can eat like a sultan of the streets for less than $5. Like Jakarta, KL has a large number of shopping malls. These are not so good for the wallet but great for public toilets, although Nike running shoes are sometimes significantly cheaper than in Australia. Yes, Jakarta has the Monas, an unimaginative and unlovely cloud spike that could only be less attractive if it were topped by a revolving restaurant and a Westfield logo. But KL luxuriates in the Petronas Twin Towers, once the tallest buildings in the world, and still as fine an elongated representation of two duelling daleks as the human mind can conceive. As Malaysia was once a British colony, KL has grand colonial buildings, which often borrow elegantly from "Moorish" traditions. Check out the Sultan Abdul Samad Building, the former seat of government, which sits opposite the mock-Tudor Royal Selangor Club. Kuala Lumpur Railway Station is another striking piece of architecture in which, rather fittingly, east meets west. And yes, Jakarta does have a smattering of remnant Dutch colonial architecture, but let's say the silent part out loud, shall we? As everybody knows but nobody has the guts to point out, Dutch colonial architecture is boring. The entire population of metropolitan KL speaks some sort of English, and the city is incredibly safe - unlike Jakarta where a becak driver once chased me into a guesthouse, demanding a higher fare. So I'm sorry, Mal, but like poor Tim Tszyu, you picked the wrong opponent: not in me but in Kuala Lumpur, the city that makes Jakarta look worse than a confluence of muddy rivers.
The Age
14-07-2025
- The Age
This homely suburban canteen serves bold tastes of Bangladesh every night of the week
Bold curries. Punchy street food. Bangladeshi-Chinese fusion: just three of the ways that this YouTube-school chef is flying the flag for her homeland. Previous SlideNext Slide 'This is the morog pulau,' smiles Janet Faldeus, the Bengali chef-owner of Authentic Family Recipes, as she brought my chicken pilaf lunch order to the table. 'I hope you like it.' How could I not? The medium-grain rice was fluffy and full. The chook was supple-as and cloaked a khaki-coloured curry onesie: creamy, mellow and comforting. A little bowl with more of the sauce was nestled into the rice. As far as introductions to the pleasures of Bangladeshi food go, morog pulau – one of the country's national dishes – is a good place to start, as is this homely canteen in East Vic Park. For those that know (or knew) Authentic Family Recipes as a safe bet for fortifying Indian-Malay-Singaporean comfort food, news that it is now a Bangladeshi restaurant may come as a surprise. It certainly was for me when I visited in October and discovered Faldeus was the restaurant's new owner and had change on her mind. Half a year on and that surprise has slowly been replaced with delight. Still, signs of the restaurant's past life remain. (The signage outside, for instance.) As she did for us then, Feldaus will cook you a flaky prata if you ask. True, it won't be stretched by hand like the ones served at Suzie's Makan Place or Rasa Sayang but let's be real: frozen prata is still pretty good. (Not least when you get home after a night out and remember that there's a packet of it in the freezer.) The more uniquely Bengali breads and snacks, though, are house-made and reason enough to visit, none more so than the Bangladeshi street food favourite. chitoi pitha: savoury, Twinkie-shaped rice flour cakes that are steam-baked in moulded, covered pans to render their underside chewy while keeping their core fluffy. They're great as is but truly shine when slicked with one of the accompanying two vorta, the Bangla word for condiments. In the red corner: a thick shutki heady with smoked fish. In the green: a zippy chutney of coriander and chilli that reminds me of the mighty Yemeni relish, zhug. While the chitoi pitha are cooked on the stovetop, most of the breads originate from the fryer. There's luchi: planks of bubbly flatbread that are, in a nice way, lighter and blonder than you'd expect. Sturdy samosas conceal fillings both usual (spiced potato, say) and less-so. (That'd be the beef liver.) Bangladeshi-style dal puri equals discs of enriched dough fried to carmel-golden, smooshed with lentils and served with a sweet tamarind water: think of them as a flat-earther-friendly version of Indian's legendary filled wheat spheres, panipuri and golgappa. But like the bible and medical advice both decree: 'man[kind] shall not live by bread alone.' (Matthew 4:4). And so the discussion moves to curry, Authentic Family Recipes' other main pillar. According to Ferduas, Bangladeshi cooks love to sing songs of fire and spice. Her preference, though, is to keep heat levels low, both for herself and for her customers. So while curries frequently sport the sort of oily, incandescent red glow that can make the spice-averse nervous, heat levels rarely go rise above a mild, PG-13 buzz. All the better to taste whichever protein is lolling in that day's curry. One day, it'll be juicy, bone-in goat. The next, honeycomb tripe that's been chopped into sensible postage-sized chunks and carefully simmered into submission. I'm not sure when Ferduas is cooking her whole quail curry next, but I hope I'm there when she does, and that the sauce boasts the same haunting richness as the version I ate earlier this month. (The secret, she says, is letting the look cook for thrice as long as usual.) I hope she'll share more Bangladeshi-Chinese dishes, too. Thanks to the mellow comfort of 'Thai chicken soup' – picture tom yum soup finally circling back to tomato soup's email about a brand collaboration – served with bowtie-shaped fried chicken dumplings called onthons, I've discovered a new strain of Chinese fusion food to get nerdy about. While there's a laminated menu by the register, it's little more than set-dressing. Homesick Bengalis will already know what they want and will order it with joyful tears in their eyes. The rest of us will be discretely Googling dish names from both the main carte and handwritten specials whiteboard. My advice? Ignore both and have a chat with Janet. She'll tell you what's good and will authorise reshuffles of suggested protein and carb pairings – 'chicken chop + lucci ($18)' – if she wants you to try something: a sign, I think, of an enthusiastic first-time restaurateur keen to share her heritage with others. Wait, I lie. Sort of. Although Ferdaus bought Authentic Family Recipes in October, she also temporarily leased the restaurant for a few afternoons a week in 2020 after COVID. Back then, cooking was something she did for herself: a quiet act of independence that also allayed the monotony of the housewife life. (She only started cooking in Australia and taught herself by reading online recipes and watching YouTube.) This time around, she's cooking for her family and to support herself and her nine-year-old son following her husband's passing. Despite the roughness of the hand that she's been dealt, Ferdaus has neither the time nor energy to throw herself a pity party. Perhaps it's because she invests so much of both in her community? Students get discounts. Rough sleepers get fed. (Guests that want to help feed others can slip some banknotes into a white letterbox above the register.) Everyone gets to dine at a homely, canteen-like space where they can get a meal for less than $20, even if they have to collect their own cutlery and squeeze into small tables that are tightly packed lip-to-lip. Like many restaurateurs serving the food of the Indian subcontinent, Ferdaus does all of her cooking at once – typically around lunchtime – and then stores everything in bain maries to sell throughout the day. Visit in the evening after a big lunch and you may discover the restaurant's looking bare, Old Mother Hubbard-style. The solution: come around noon while she's still preparing the food, even if it's to get some takeaway for dinner. The price one pays for access to these early draft picks, though, is potentially leaving the restaurant covered in the distinctive scent of eau de open kitchen. If you're not familiar with it, it's an evocative fragrance that leads with cooking oil, but also includes top notes of forward planning, streetwise dining and victory. I hope, and know, you'll like it. Good Food Guide.
Sydney Morning Herald
14-07-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
This homely suburban canteen serves bold tastes of Bangladesh every night of the week
Bold curries. Punchy street food. Bangladeshi-Chinese fusion: just three of the ways that this YouTube-school chef is flying the flag for her homeland. Previous SlideNext Slide 'This is the morog pulau,' smiles Janet Faldeus, the Bengali chef-owner of Authentic Family Recipes, as she brought my chicken pilaf lunch order to the table. 'I hope you like it.' How could I not? The medium-grain rice was fluffy and full. The chook was supple-as and cloaked a khaki-coloured curry onesie: creamy, mellow and comforting. A little bowl with more of the sauce was nestled into the rice. As far as introductions to the pleasures of Bangladeshi food go, morog pulau – one of the country's national dishes – is a good place to start, as is this homely canteen in East Vic Park. For those that know (or knew) Authentic Family Recipes as a safe bet for fortifying Indian-Malay-Singaporean comfort food, news that it is now a Bangladeshi restaurant may come as a surprise. It certainly was for me when I visited in October and discovered Faldeus was the restaurant's new owner and had change on her mind. Half a year on and that surprise has slowly been replaced with delight. Still, signs of the restaurant's past life remain. (The signage outside, for instance.) As she did for us then, Feldaus will cook you a flaky prata if you ask. True, it won't be stretched by hand like the ones served at Suzie's Makan Place or Rasa Sayang but let's be real: frozen prata is still pretty good. (Not least when you get home after a night out and remember that there's a packet of it in the freezer.) The more uniquely Bengali breads and snacks, though, are house-made and reason enough to visit, none more so than the Bangladeshi street food favourite. chitoi pitha: savoury, Twinkie-shaped rice flour cakes that are steam-baked in moulded, covered pans to render their underside chewy while keeping their core fluffy. They're great as is but truly shine when slicked with one of the accompanying two vorta, the Bangla word for condiments. In the red corner: a thick shutki heady with smoked fish. In the green: a zippy chutney of coriander and chilli that reminds me of the mighty Yemeni relish, zhug. While the chitoi pitha are cooked on the stovetop, most of the breads originate from the fryer. There's luchi: planks of bubbly flatbread that are, in a nice way, lighter and blonder than you'd expect. Sturdy samosas conceal fillings both usual (spiced potato, say) and less-so. (That'd be the beef liver.) Bangladeshi-style dal puri equals discs of enriched dough fried to carmel-golden, smooshed with lentils and served with a sweet tamarind water: think of them as a flat-earther-friendly version of Indian's legendary filled wheat spheres, panipuri and golgappa. But like the bible and medical advice both decree: 'man[kind] shall not live by bread alone.' (Matthew 4:4). And so the discussion moves to curry, Authentic Family Recipes' other main pillar. According to Ferduas, Bangladeshi cooks love to sing songs of fire and spice. Her preference, though, is to keep heat levels low, both for herself and for her customers. So while curries frequently sport the sort of oily, incandescent red glow that can make the spice-averse nervous, heat levels rarely go rise above a mild, PG-13 buzz. All the better to taste whichever protein is lolling in that day's curry. One day, it'll be juicy, bone-in goat. The next, honeycomb tripe that's been chopped into sensible postage-sized chunks and carefully simmered into submission. I'm not sure when Ferduas is cooking her whole quail curry next, but I hope I'm there when she does, and that the sauce boasts the same haunting richness as the version I ate earlier this month. (The secret, she says, is letting the look cook for thrice as long as usual.) I hope she'll share more Bangladeshi-Chinese dishes, too. Thanks to the mellow comfort of 'Thai chicken soup' – picture tom yum soup finally circling back to tomato soup's email about a brand collaboration – served with bowtie-shaped fried chicken dumplings called onthons, I've discovered a new strain of Chinese fusion food to get nerdy about. While there's a laminated menu by the register, it's little more than set-dressing. Homesick Bengalis will already know what they want and will order it with joyful tears in their eyes. The rest of us will be discretely Googling dish names from both the main carte and handwritten specials whiteboard. My advice? Ignore both and have a chat with Janet. She'll tell you what's good and will authorise reshuffles of suggested protein and carb pairings – 'chicken chop + lucci ($18)' – if she wants you to try something: a sign, I think, of an enthusiastic first-time restaurateur keen to share her heritage with others. Wait, I lie. Sort of. Although Ferdaus bought Authentic Family Recipes in October, she also temporarily leased the restaurant for a few afternoons a week in 2020 after COVID. Back then, cooking was something she did for herself: a quiet act of independence that also allayed the monotony of the housewife life. (She only started cooking in Australia and taught herself by reading online recipes and watching YouTube.) This time around, she's cooking for her family and to support herself and her nine-year-old son following her husband's passing. Despite the roughness of the hand that she's been dealt, Ferdaus has neither the time nor energy to throw herself a pity party. Perhaps it's because she invests so much of both in her community? Students get discounts. Rough sleepers get fed. (Guests that want to help feed others can slip some banknotes into a white letterbox above the register.) Everyone gets to dine at a homely, canteen-like space where they can get a meal for less than $20, even if they have to collect their own cutlery and squeeze into small tables that are tightly packed lip-to-lip. Like many restaurateurs serving the food of the Indian subcontinent, Ferdaus does all of her cooking at once – typically around lunchtime – and then stores everything in bain maries to sell throughout the day. Visit in the evening after a big lunch and you may discover the restaurant's looking bare, Old Mother Hubbard-style. The solution: come around noon while she's still preparing the food, even if it's to get some takeaway for dinner. The price one pays for access to these early draft picks, though, is potentially leaving the restaurant covered in the distinctive scent of eau de open kitchen. If you're not familiar with it, it's an evocative fragrance that leads with cooking oil, but also includes top notes of forward planning, streetwise dining and victory. I hope, and know, you'll like it. Good Food Guide.
