travelswithalice

I swear if my school had looked like this, I wouldn't have been absent even for a day. Ever.

Friday lunch in Shepherd Market. Pub decor is self-consciously and deliciously tasteless but the salmon fishcakes and shepherd's pie are exactly what we wanted.


Bit of shopping in the afternoon. Glorious spring day!



Saturday lunch at NOBU next door. As always, it's dessert that makes the meal unforgettable. Suntory whiskey-infused milk froth atop some kind of crunchy coffee and chocolate crumble. Fabulous.

Super lazy Saturday afternoon. I had planned to maybe take a peek at the construction of the new Serpentine gallery in Kensington gardens. But much too cold for a walk in the park.

Also considered going for a spin on the bus to anywhere but a lack of ready coins for the bus ticket and the biting wintry wind get the better of us. What happened to springtime in London?

We duck back into the hotel lounge for a quick warm-up. Big mistake! The lure of afternoon tea is stronger than our joint will power can withstand!

In the end, Stuart decided we should move to the Park Lane Hilton.

Never mind charming small hotels then. Sometimes, bigger is better.

So, having landed at 8 this morning, we're only now settled, showered, and ready to holiday at 4 in the afternoon!

The view makes it all worthwhile though. And what a view it is!





And later, front row seats for the late-rising Full Pink Moon:

Elsie and I meet in the lobby of my hotel. We head off to the bar for a late lunch. it's 3:30. The lunch menu doesn't appeal. So what about cheese and cold cuts? Yes. And champagne? Well... we figure it must be happy hour somewhere.

We talk men, family, divorce, parents, careers, nice guys, assholes... what else?...actually, there isn't much we didn't talk about!

We're still there when Stuart gets back. Another round of drinks before we brave the cold to walk the few blocks to DB Bistro on 44th Street to join Mario for dinner. DB is yet another outpost of the vast Boulud food empire.

We all marvel at Mario's $34 burger and sample his fries, which everyone declares superior to that of McDonalds. Elsie's escargots are not as successful. Stuart and I have safe and satisfying fish. Perfect finish is chocolate clafoutis for four.

It has turned cold again when we walk back to the Intercon so we warm up with a nightcap. Lovely evening to cap a lovely day.

Spring makes a comeback as we leave NYC. Almost a shame to go now... but London awaits.

And wonder of wonders! London has put on a show to rival springtime in New York. The sky is so blue, there must be a mistake. Are we in the right country?

The Waldorf Hilton in Aldwych is a really charming hotel. Small, understated, quiet, 1930's chic. The bowler-hatted doorman has just walked straight out of a Magritte canvas.

Unfortunately, they're in the middle of refurbishment and our pretty little refurbished room stinks of wet cement. We go back to the lounge to await a nicer-smelling room. 😞

Back at all-time favorite The Modern for lunch with Stuart. Followed by quick trip to nearby UNIQLO for loungey T-shirt maxi dresses, super cheap jeans, and pretty panties.

Drinks with Erle at Peacock Alley Bar at the Waldorf. On the house, to make up for previous night's mishandling of my late-arriving suitcase causing near-panic at about twenty minutes to curtain time at the Met.

Highpoint of the evening, maybe even the week, is Burlesque at R Bar on Bowery St. This is so not a strip club! This according to best buddy of the evening, Seth- my gorgeous guide into this newfound fascinating world of Burlesque.

Later, much much later, after about two hours of whoops, woot-woos, sequins, feather fans, and whirling nipple tassels...

At Beauty & Essex- the pawnshop-fronted bar and restaurant on Rivington Street, burly bouncers are busy turning away people crowding the entrance. Soon we are being waved in through the door. Now, how did Erle swing that?

Through the small pawnshop in front and into another world. The bar is lined wall-to-wall with a slow moving crowd in hyper party-mode presided over by an enormous chandelier hung atop a sweeping staircase. In back is a huge dining room aggressively décor-ed in Art Deco Bordello Revival. Above, a glass dome affords a leafy peek at the upstairs bar.



This is all gloriously exciting but there's no available table to be found (despite Erle's discreetly passed legal tender of unknown denomination.)

Late dinner at Salt Bar on Clinton Street. Friendly, trendy, woody, vintage rock & roll music, inventive menu. Give the Tempranillo a miss though.


Sunday breakfast by the clock- the Waldorf clock- with Stuart, Erle, and Bing.
After an indulgent champagne brunch, Bing and I talk a mean streak until closing time.




Meanwhile, Stuart packs for our move next door to the Intercon, generously leaving Bing & me to catchup on two years' worth of stories.




We cart our luggage across the street to our new company-approved lodgings for the official part of Stuart's NY trip.

Then Bing and I, dressed optimistically for a mild Spring day, walk the length of near-freezing wind-whipped Fifth Avenue to Bergdorf's where I splurge on a dreamy pair of evening slippers. They'd give Cleopatra's Met wardrobe serious competition!


Dinner at The Modern. Again. Stuart opts out but I join him later for drinks and a late supper at Organic Bar at the Intercon lobby.

At end of day, my Nike Fuel band is happy. Pretty lights announce the great job I did walking. Very impressive!

Another glorious spring day. The little garden in the churchyard next door is alive with white and red and orange tulips. Crowds of blue and violet blooms (I wish I knew their names!) push brashly against each other.



It's amazing what a day like this can do to one's feeling of well being. Optimism gets the better of you and you find yourself doing things you don't normally do. Like walking for example. I surprised myself so much I even let Stuart talk me into buying a Nike Fuel band. (Surely you've heard of them? They're shackled to your wrist to tell you exactly how much walking you're not doing?) Shocking!


Last night was the best time ever at the Met. Stuart didn't fall asleep and he looked at his watch only once during the entire four and a half hours.

It was a highly energized production that demanded more from opera than opera stars are normally willing to give. Dance moves that ranged from Bollywood style to Jazz Age soft-shoe. There was quite a bit of acrobatics too. And period costumes that leap-frogged across continents and time warps, As well as male leads singing in the mind-boggling style of the castrati! "Giulio Cesare" was a riot!

And the house loved every bit of it!