Spendthrift Shoestring

London: Walking Tours with Rachel and Ann

Is Liam the Future for Britain?
Stamped graffiti found this past weekend.

Friday and Saturday were devoted to walking tours. Friday's was led by Rachel, who met me in Kilburn and executed a circuitous loop to St. John's Wood, Little Venice, and Maida Vale, areas of London I hadn't yet seen. One completely unexpected highlight was Alexandra & Ainsworth Estate, a 1977 terraced estate by Neave Brown. That some examples of 1970s architecture manage to be simultaneously futuristic and dated has become a personal delight.   

View from street into the estate.

View to upper floors.

We found lunch at Adafina, a Sephardic deli, where I had a salt beef sandwich and tiny desserts, which included rugelach and a slice of baklava. Later we hit Little Venice, which I think should be called Little Amsterdam. What is it about urban canals?

Little Venice.

After skirting Maida Vale, we ended the day with Matt and Ann at Acorn House, a very green restaurant near King's Cross. It was an outstanding meal, one of if not the best I've had in London.

On Saturday, Ann led the tour. Matt and I met her at Hounslow East tube station and we bussed to Osterley; from there we walked to Osterley Park, where we spent some time in the park and the very grand house. Signs of an impending hayfever attack on the part of one of our party shortened our stay, but it was still incredibly beautiful as well as strange to contemplate the fact that the massive park is actually in London.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around central London. We had dinner at Abeno, where we ate okonomiyaki—we were just introduced to okonomiyaki earlier last week by Ben and Devon. Later, on our long walk following dinner, we sauntered down a perfect mews, at the end of which was a pub called The Duke, a cozy spot.

Doughty Mews.

Both days were full of the sort of unexpected surprises that wandering yields.

Three Stylish Yet Affordable Guesthouses

Yesterday I finally got ahold of the July Wallpaper, which is fashioned as an insider's guide. This theme produces an interesting smattering of properties in the "Arrivals" section, a few of which are moderately priced. Room National, a tiny, very stylish b&b in Antwerp, grabbed my attention (lowest double €95). Another gem for the budget-conscious courtesy of the feature is Moorstone Guest House in Devon, where doubles begin at £60 (singles at £50).

And then, beyond the pages of the magazine, there's Pebble Hotel in St. Ives (Cornwall), where I'll be staying for a night week after next. I'll surely have much more to say about it after my visit, but all signs point to a night of affordable style (high-season doubles begin at £47; singles at £45.)

Balkan Graffiti

Here are some images I meant to put up after returning from the Balkans last month. I'm particularly curious about the first one.

Belgrade.

Sarajevo.

Belgrade.

London: Finally, Deptford

Today I took a little tour to the east, first to see the Canary Wharf Tube station, and then on to Greenwich and Deptford. Greenwich was a bit twee for me, honestly, though the park was dreamy in the perfect heat. Overheard conversation: "Last year, we bought a cottage in Sussex, so lovely, but..." I wondered at the disasters that might have befallen the cottage purchaser, but she and her friends—all three with prams—passed out of earshot before I got the dirt.

Then I moved on to Deptford, a place I've been reading about in various places over the last few years. Deptford High Street completely floored me. It's a treasure-trove of ethnic shops, restaurants, and markets, with a supermarket here and a few one-pound stores there. The cross-section was bewilderingly rich, and frankly I haven't seen any street like it since arriving in London. It's an electric slice of multi-layered London without hipsters—at least for the time being.

And from there I moved on to more central 'hoods to visit hotels for EuroCheapo. What else? I lent my phone to a guy from Kazakhstan who needed to make a quick call. And then I came home and worked on some things.

Weekend UK Travel Media Highlights

I found it funny—or something else short of ironic—that the travel sections of two UK newspapers this weekend contained features on two places I wanted badly to find a way to visit during my stint here in London: Northern Cyprus and the Faroe Islands. It turned out to be either impractical or too expensive to make journeys to these spots during my time in London, but they both remain at the top of my list of places to visit as soon as schedule and finances allow.

In the Sunday Telegraph yesterday, Alistair Fraser's "Fresh tracks in the forgotten North," is an adventure travel feature focused on hiking, beaches, ruins, Nicosia, and the territory's unique cultural situation. The north of Cyprus is full of deserted beaches and easily accessible ruins. It's also got a little bit of an outlaw atmosphere; without any extradition treaties, it's thought to be home to a fair number of criminals on the lam. Obviously, the prospect of a solution to the island's partition is a great cause for hope, and I would love to see continued movement in this direction. That said, I hope to visit before its coastlines get developed and its unusual atmosphere dissipates entirely—both likely scenarios in the event of reunification or federation.

In yesterday's Observer, Ruaridh Nicoll writes about the Faroe Islands, which he visited with his father-in-law, James Watt, who spent part of the summer for two decades painting in the Faroes. It's a very nice feature, weaving an acknowledgment of the Faroes' modern, rich Nordic credentials in with a sense of its quiet and insular particularities.

Also in the Observer: an "Instant Weekend" feature on Pristina by Sophie Middlemiss and an ode to no-frills campsites by Kate Edgely. The former makes me excited, again, to visit Kosovo in September; the latter just makes me wish I had camping gear with me in London, not to mention lots and lots of idle time.

Weekend in Wales

Bilingual signage at Cardiff Central railway station.

Matt and I took the train to Cardiff on Friday night, returning to London on Sunday evening. It was a weekend of decompression, though we did some exploring. One highlight for me was the Senedd, the newish building of the National Assembly for Wales, which is a bold and open structure. I liked the middle level's observation space as well as the upper level's views over Cardiff Bay. Nearby, in the Cardiff Bay development, there was a stand selling jams and other products. We bought a bottle of rhubarb jam from an outfit called In A Picklel (yes, that's the spelling) from Tondu in South Wales. Very tasty. Another highlight was a tour of Cardiff Castle, in particular its Norman Keep. Here are two views from the keep's uppermost perch.

Kids playing inside the keep.

View over Bute Park.

My favorite spots in Cardiff were away from the weekend hubbub. I especially liked walking through the Cathays area near the University of Wales. Our only real mistake of the weekend was to show up without a reservation at contemporary Welsh restaurant the Armless Dragon. No luck, sadly, and that menu really looked exciting. It was Saturday night, though, so we had no excuse. On Sunday we took the train to Abergavenny, on the edge of Brecon Beacons National Park, and explored a little bit.

In Cardiff, we stayed at the Royal Hotel Cardiff, a modern hotel with high-quality beds, friendly but never obsequious staff, and lovely breakfasts. A splurge for shoestring travelers, no question, but good value for a hotel of its type.

London's Free Afternoon Dailies

Every weekday afternoon and evening in London, the free newspaper war is on. Copies of two free papers, London Lite and thelondonpaper, are passed out in enormous volume by uniformed representatives at innumerable crowded spots across London.

With their soft news coverage, the two are strictly commuter reading material, though their snappy celeb tidbits are well done. Yesterday's photos in London Lite of Pixie Geldof rolling a cigarette and of Alesha Dixon smiling her ass off in the back seat of a convertible Bentley are representative of the tenor of the publication's coverage of local celebrities.

The best feature of all is thelondonpaper's "24 hrs in pictures," which graces page two of the newspaper. Yesterday's photo of Boris Johnson and Wednesday's pic of Denise van Outen were both snapped earlier on their publication days. The same-day shots make the feature feel extremely current. In turn, the feature imbues countless commutes with a sense of random immediacy.

London: Exploring & Dining

It's been too long since my most recent London chronicle. I've been busy with visiting friends, my short trips, and my current assignment, an update of EuroCheapo's London city guide.

I am continuing to explore London, of course, and doing lots of walking. The southern end of Islington has been a focus over the last week, and I've also been moving eastward into Shoreditch and Bethnal Green and westward into Mayfair, Fitzrovia, and Bloomsbury. There are still so many neighborhoods I haven't seen yet, especially in South London, and I'll be continuing my explorations by foot over the next several weeks.

On the dining front, one recent highlight was dinner at Bistroteque with Matt, Molly, and Alex. Bistroteque is in a sparse, beautiful warehouse space—Alex likened it to an abattoir, though, she clarified, not in a stomach-turning way—and boasts a good menu. I found the starters to be especially satisfying, if microscopically portioned. The restaurant feels like a secret, which always instills a cozy feeling.

Another highlight, and a splurge to boot, was lunch last weekend at the Wolseley, an over-the-top pavilion of posh English food. Matt had an eggs benedict that he claimed to be the best of his life, as well as cause to rethink the dish altogether. My meal was also fine, though not quite so mindblowing.

And lastly, having sampled many of the gastropubs in our part of Clerkenwell—and finding most of them to be quite good—I've settled on my favorite of the bunch, a place called The Coach & Horses. Just thinking about it makes me wonder if I should finally leave the apartment for a late lunch. 

22 and a Half Hours on the Isle of Man

A few weeks ago, my outbound Flybe flight from Luton to the Isle of Man, scheduled for this past Monday morning, was canceled. Twice the airline emailed me an alternative itinerary. The first time I simply clicked the Reject Schedule Change link, only to be greeted with an ominous demand to ring a call center. Recalling my easyJet flight cancellation disaster of 2006, the fear of enormous rebooking surcharges ricocheted inside me with an entirely inappropriate vigor. I didn't ring the call center, hoping that some sort of intervention would save me from a near-inevitable charge. So when an Flybe sent me an identical email last week, it was a relief. I acquiesced.

My nearly two full days of running around the island had been reduced to one. (And in another unfortunate move, I forgot to take my camera with me. My absent-mindedness was really unfortunate, as the views coming down from Snaefell were truly extraordinary. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)

My flight arrived early, just before 9 p.m. From the airport—notable signage: a request that non-EEA citizens arriving from Ireland register upon arrival—I took off in a taxi for the Glen Mona, my b&b (£45 for the night, including breakfast.) I found a kebab place and ate takeaway on the Central Promenade overlooking Douglas Bay. It remained light quite late, and it was chilly but comfortable.

On Tuesday, with time of the essence, I woke up and hit the road. I bought a one-day Island Explorer Ticket (£13) and took the electric train from Douglas to Laxey. At Laxey I transfered to the Snaefell Mountain Railway, which I took up to Bungalow, an intermediate stop. Here I alighted and walked slowly, dodging sheep, up the remainder of the mountain to Snaefell, the summit of the Isle of Man. The views were outstanding, even with clouds all around and the whipping wind.

I walked back down to Bungalow. Seeing no rail car anywhere in sight, I decided on the spur of the moment to walk back all the way to Laxey. The attendant at the train station told me that the walk would take two hours and that trail markings were faint up to the old abandoned mine. So I set out, on the side of the sloping valley opposite from the railway tracks. There were times when the trail itself all but disappeared in the grasses. At another point, hopping through weedy marsh, it became clear that I'd lost the trail altogether. The enormous valley was very quiet, with just the sounds of the wind, the occasional clacking of the train, and, for a short time, the voices of some other hikers. The trail transitioned into rocky unfinished lanes and then paved country roads on the way into Laxey.

A few hours later, after a return to Douglas and a stroll through the city's commercial zone, I boarded the island's Steam Railway for Ballasalla, a town near the airport. When the conductor found out that I was headed to the airport, he arranged for a special stop for me and two other flight-bound passengers at Ronaldsway, just a jump from the airport of the same name. Ten minutes later, I had successfully checked in for my flight.

It was a short, action-packed visit.

Notable: Vietnam Low-Cost Flight News

My friend TJ has been tearing it up with his amazing Vietnam blog, 9000 Hours in Saigon, which is full of advice, analysis, and astute observations.

TJ has begun to turn his attention to low-cost air travel in Vietnam. Check out his posts on Jetstar Pacific's initial announcement of three new domestic routes in Vietnam, his suspicions that Qantas Group woes might affect Jetstar's expansion plans, and a look at Jetstar's route axeings.

With these posts, TJ helps fill out the budget airline picture beyond Europe and North America. I look forward to his future probes into Asia's low-cost air transportation scene.