When in Rome

This feature was published in Royal Jordanian Airline's in-flight magazine, Royal Wings.

Staying over
Luxury lovers will want to head for Piazza della Republica to find five-star luxury at the ritzy Exedra Hotel. It boasts two restaurants, a Wellness Centre, a champagne bar and Rome’s only rooftop pool. Alternatively, for something more private, experience the deluxe rooms, walled garden and roof terrace at the historical Inn at the Roman Forum.


Eating out

The natives are proud of their world-class ice cream. The highly regarded Il Gelato di San Crispino near the Trevi Fountain still commands huge respect; closely followed by Al Settimo Gelo with it’s premium ingredients and Gelateria della Palma, only moments north of the Pantheon.

What to do
During the day discover the rich tapestry of history in an unusual fashion - an exciting new game called The Ruyi - exploring the city, gathering clues using your mobile phone. You may even come across the often-overlooked Catacomb of Priscilla. For the evening’s entertainment, Rome’s weirdest bar, Jonathan's Angels, is suitably kitsch and colourfully.

Shopping
Ice cream is not the only thing Italians are masters of. Shoes are also one of their specialities. The traditional leather designs at Carucci are worth a walkabout. As are the sophisticated creations at Franco Borini (Via dei Pettinari) and the unique eccentricities at the aptly-named Loco (Via dei Baullari).

What to read
Easy readers can indulge in the modern day thriller When in Rome by Ngaio Marsh which revolves around a murdered tourist. Gore Vidal’s Julian is a more substantial tome set around the fictional life of a beguiling Roman Emperor.

Searcy’s at the Barbican

Searcy’s at the Barbican
Thanks to all the cultural fuddery that goes on at the Barbican, it’s become a sort of carnie for a certain type of people. Whilst normal carnies have heads full of candy floss and Jade Goody, the minds of Barbican-lovers are chock full of brown corduroy and Melvyn Bragg. And whereas carnie folk can be found in noisy fields littered with cowpats and stray dogs, Barbicans choose to worship the Gods of the future in this incongruous monolithic structure.

It’s acceptable to think, therefore, that a team like Searcy’s might splatter a sense of art, culture, music and life all over the walls of their Barbican home; especially considering the surroundings and the sterling job they did of reigniting the romance of travel at their other recent development, St Pancras Grand. Disappointingly, though, this is not the case.

All that the refurbishment has managed to achieve is the addition of a bar that nobody uses, a different colour carpet and various levels of blandness. For a start, there’s no music. Which is odd for an establishment that will no doubt receive most of its custom from culture vultures hungry for a bit of Verdi, Seasick Steve or Buena Vista Social Club. There is no atmosphere, whatsoever. This could well be the very first restaurant ever to exist entirely in a vacuum. The low ceilings and thick carpets soak up most of what little sound there is, which from experience is mainly confined to the sound of customers sending back their food because they’ve been given the wrong meal. At one point we saw a waitress carrying several Bakewell tarts asking every table in turn ‘Did you order dessert?’

The time taken to clear dishes and deliver the next course equates to roughly far too long which, again, could be a problem considering that most people have a performance to catch. That, and the fact that the average age of the clientele is about 950. They haven’t got time to wait for dessert. They might not make it out of the restaurant at all.

The food itself is flamboyantly average when, or even if, it arrives. It mainly hangs around the ‘cor blimey, eh oop chuck, why eye man’ school of thought, with a general British intent and perhaps a slightly zealous obsession with tradition. Henry VIII would have feasted on similar words: smoked eel, wood pigeon, egg of duck, hare in a pie, fish in a stew, shin of beef with kidneys, bread and butter pudding. He might not have had the pleasure, however, of the such a diverse mead list. The wines on offer come from countries that Henry would’ve either married or gone to war with. Chances are he would chosen the excellent Chapel Down Bacchus (borne of Kent!) had he the opportunity.

The starters are handsomely presented and quite generous as well, so although opting for three courses at £28.50 might sound like a good deal you’ll probably be filled by two (£24.50). Plus, with three you’ll have to arrive at about 2.30 in the afternoon to get through them all before the performance at 7.30pm. Adversely, for those attempting to use the restaurant for romantic purposes, the mid-show sitting might be best suited.

Now, the view. This is probably the restaurant’s only laudable feature. Without it, Searcy’s report card would have some serious explaining to do. The 180-degree vista tunes in a whole host of things to distract you from your Searcy’s experience: the as-old-as-time-itself St Giles Cripplegate Church, the swan-less scum-layered canal, the reassuringly expensive apartment tombs and the various futuristic faculties of some girls’ school or other. It’s a bit like eating dinner on the control deck of the Starship Enterprise, looking out over the physical embodiment of an Escher drawing, had it been drawn in the 1970s.

Overall, Searcy’s at Barbican is not a young, fresh, vibrant place. The most fun to be had is the walk through the maze of bridges and walkways from Moorgate. If you have the legs, the Portuguese restaurant, Portal, is only a 10 minute walk away. If you’re an octogenarian, however, stick with Searcy’s Barbican blandness.

St Pancras Grand

St Pancras Grand
It could be said that The St Pancras Grand was primarily constructed for the purpose of providing a high-class resting area for the many travelers and business folk using the station. It could, but it’d be wrong. The real purpose for The Grand is to develop a sense of romance for a forgotten era. For those with more than an ounce of romanticism in their souls, the buzz of travel and the intrigue of their own imagination provides good enough reason to visit The Grand, where the voyagers mystique wafts around the air like the anticipation of the summer holidays on the last day of school. Even if your purpose for being at St Pancras station has nothing remotely to do with dirty weekends in Paris, Brussels or Leicester, The Grand is ever beckoning. If you’ve ever felt the need to don a trilby, throw on a wax raincoat and light your next cigarette with your last one, The Grand will boot you back in time.

A gazillion trillion fine English pounds was spent turning this Eurostar terminal into the world’s tidiest station and in the process it became a behemoth of grandeur. Then, along came Searcy’s, the restaurant artistes who have installed upper-echelon dining experiences at many of the great institutions - the London Transport Museum, the National Portrait Gallery, the Royal Opera House, the Gherkin, the Barbican. First, they plonked the now-famous champagne bar along the upper concourse, and when they were happy with that, they added a restaurant.

There’s no need to actually go to Paris on the Eurostar because upon entering The Grand you’re practically there already. For example, there’s a bar at both ends; the staff all talk with French accents; the Art Deco lights are clearly contraband from the Parisian Metro; the leather banquettes are separated by wide boulevards; and the colour scheme is scattered with a poke of autumn brass, a snarl of earthy yellow and un clin d'oeil de brun français. The ostentatious gilded ceiling is fabulously French and only adds to the golden hue.

Yet despite this French facade, the seasonal and locally-sourced cuisine at The Grand is très Anglais and at a price that talks your language, thanks to chief chef, Billy Reid, a man who looks to the night’s skies and sees nothing but Michelin stars. Posh fish & chips with mushy peas, sausage & mash with red onion gravy, liver & bacon, Bubble & Squeak, British charcuterie, British Rock oysters, Eton Mess, AND rice pudding with strawberry jam all battle for supremacy on the map they call the menu. But for a faultless demonstration of traditional British fare, take this advice: the fish receives more critical acclaim than anything to do with meat, unless the meat is surrounded by pie pastry. This means you should (a) make sure you procure a window-facing seat so you can show full admiration for the outstanding structure peering in, then (b) get things started with the potted mackerel, followed swiftly by (c) an embroiled encounter with the smoked haddock & poached egg main, before finally succumbing to (d) an intervention of sherry trifle.

On the fluids side, The Grand’s signature grapefruit, peach and presecco cocktail is a winner for igniting romantic liaisons. The comprehensive wine list is friends with a good number of Old World types - the Muscadet Sur Lie Coteaux de la Loire is handy with a fish dish - but as guests at The Grand are there for a completely authentic British experience, the delicious Chapel Down Pinot Reserve, from Kent, should keep the ticker ticking. Failing that, there’s always London Pride on tap.

Allegedly, The Grand is frequented by international business folk - most popular with the Belgians yet weirdly not the French - who arrive early, have coffee, eat breakfast, conduct meetings in the private dining area, experience elevenses, have afternoon internet with wifi tea, then return to their home countries all in the space of one day and never once leaving The Grand. So us Brits salute you, our friendly neighbours, for realising a good thing when you taste it.

The Grand is not just for train spotters, it’s for romance spotters. The charm of train travel still lives and The Grand is just that: grand.

Whales

How do you get two whales in a car?

Across the Severn Bridge.

Font you!

Three fonts walk into a bar.

Barman says "Oi, get out! We don't want your type in here!"

Slim Jim’s Liquor Store

Slim Jim’s Liquor Store
112 Upper St, N1 1QN

Geez, we Brits go ga-ga for the US, don’t we? We love to high-five our evangelical TVs and smother our naked bodies in hot, buttered Americana. We’re so American we constantly teeter on the edge of a ‘Yee-haa’ and a slap of the thigh wherever we may be (meeting, funeral, B&Q). Well, if you yearn for the sweet pancake aroma of Freedomville USA, you’ll absolutely have kittens for the hometown diner-cum-brothel that is Slim Jim’s. Here, the rock n roll is free and the late nights are compulsory.

Wedged half way between Angel and Highbury & Islington – a decent walk from the tube for any wandering pilgrim – Slim Jim’s is thin, dim and just big enough to accommodate around a hundred drunken highway poets. There’s a healthy dose of weirdos – the good, nouveau-mod kind – both in front and behind the bar, wearing anything from leather jackets to sharp suits. These patrons are as rugged as the walls. Secretly, they all believe they’re Jack Kerouac and these dark, covert nooks and crannies are for beatnik poses, not usurped dictators-in-hiding (if you have such a problem).

Look around the hazy, red, neon-hued liquor store and it’s easy to feel like you’ve stepped through the Stargate into Back To The Future: 1950s bar stools, high-backed booths, a plaque on the wall that proudly states “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada”. And the night proves decidedly more American once a drink ordered. This is pure movie script stuff – “Hit me again, bar tender”.

There are beers, but for goodness sake don’t be such a Philistine. Get in there and do it properly. There’s 15-year old scotch, 17-year old Japanese whisky hibiki, bourbons and rye from the deep South, Trinidadian and Guatemalan rums; the back bar intimidates with its sheer size and range but the staff are on hand to learn ya. Each drink has to be drunk in a specific way and even though there are cocktails available, real men don’t dilute their poison.

Music is integral to this outfit and any self-respecting dive wouldn’t be worth its desolation if it didn’t possess a jukebox. That the manager is the former head of Camden’s paragon of iniquity, The Hawley Arms, is no coincidence. The box of formidable sound-colour is comprised of almost 100 choices to entice a wide stance and air guitar: for the classic rock Dads amongst us, the Lej status is turned to up to 11 with names such as The Clash, Queen, Led Zep, and Hendrix to thrill; equally, for those with more of a contemporary gait, you’ll be as pleased as a fat kid in a sweet shop when you smell the Kings, the Killers and the Kaisers wafting round the bar; all bluegrass and country lovers, give it until the beginning of 2009, they should have something for you by then. Fans of Morrissey beware, though – it’s strictly forbidden to chose more than three Smiths tracks in a row. No need to explain why, really. There are rumours that Slim Jim’s will be attempting to stage live music at some point in the future, but where they’re going to put the band is anyone’s guess. And as for the planned monthly burlesque evenings......

In conclusion: long, drawn-out, boozy, school night shenanigans consisting entirely of sitting, talking and perhaps the odd bit of listening. So, can you function fully at work whilst still drying out from last night? This is Islington, USA. State capital of Escapism.

Chairlift

“We’re the best band in the world at enjoying tacos” says Patrick, buoyed by his own confidence. “We challenge any band to combat us in a taco-eating contest.” At first, this might seem exactly the sort of comment one would expect from the drummer/bassist of a band that produces charming, kooky soundtracks for iPod commercials (yes, that “I try to do handstands for you” tune is theirs), but there is more to Chairlift than just brief throwaway whimsy. Much like Feist, the Apple experience served only to grab the collective attention. By comparison, the remainder of the debut album - Does You Inspire You - is a darker, mightier body of work, especially when manifested into their emphatic live performance. This is haunting stuff. Chairlift are quite creepy. Even the way they each speak conveys a sense of foreboding: Patrick drawls like an incoherent alien; Aaron - guitarist/songwriter - sits almost silently; and Caroline - provider of synths and vocals - jumps around in a wildly musing state.

This disparity of moods is evident in the work they produce and their wide-ranging reference points hop between genres. From the epic Asian-bent ‘Planet Earth’ to the slow synth dream of ‘Somewhere Around Here’ to the alluring horror power chords of ‘Territory’ to the swirling rock-and-thunk electronica of ‘Make Your Mind Up’; Chairlift’s miscellany is simplistic and textured.

“People get confused by how many different genres we play with but to us it’s all part of the same movie,” says Caroline. Using Quentin Tarrantino’s Asian/cowboy flavour as an example, she adds, “By combining all these different things, the world that they all coexist in is our sound. It’s not that we’re juggling between different ones, it’s actually cross pollination.”

Chairlift often refer to their own ‘world’; one which, according to Patrick, “you cant sit on but you could definitely crawl inside.” This hollow dystopian world has a conscience and deals with our planet’s destructions on several tracks. For Caroline, “Music is very physical. Like a building environment. It’s not flat when it comes out of the speakers. It’s a way of seeing the world from the point of view of the song.”

Even the band’s name, which was originally intended for a project Caroline and Patrick previously played in, is significant to viewing this ‘world’. “A chairlift is a journey over a beautiful, slowly-changing terrain” Caroline reflects. “It’s a slow panoramic view and our music is like that, it takes you through different places.”

One might argue that here they could be describing a movie soundtrack and it’s no secret Chairlift are great fans of Twin Peaks, Donnie Darko and a slew of 80s cinematic releases. However, the association with their sound is very much a coincidence. They claim to have only started listening to the era’s output once their album was finally complete: “The 80s pillaged us” admits Caroline.

Her slick vocal technique certainly benefits the fantasy element. She crosses the solidity of Feist with the peculiarity of Kate Bush and Regina Spektor, thus registering a high quotient of eeriness. The overall result is a world that borders with the likes of Ladyhawke, The Knife, PJ Harvey and Bats For Lashes.

Chairlift are quietly conquering Europe, as the current tour demonstrates. Aside from the odd broken guitar, blown adaptor, vehicle issue and illness/ailment, the band’s first TransAtlantic experience has been a success. So where do they see themselves a year from now? According to a psychic they frequented en masse recently, they’ll be in Florida making their next record. Even though Patrick hates Florida, Caroline sees this as a blessing: “the record will be much cooler because it [Florida] is beautiful but grotesque.”

The clairvoyant may just be right. After all, it was a strange act of fate that brought the band together in the first place. Having all known one another in Colorado, they experienced a spooky and fortuitous meeting again in New York some time later. This lead directly to the present Chairlift incarnation and the experimental, electronic trajectory they complete today.

Their move to the Big Apple has thrown up some notable relationships with Brooklyn neighbours MGMT, Yeasayer and Grizzly Bear, from whom the band has studied some of life’s most valuable lessons: “We’ve learned how to hang out really well,” admits Patrick proudly, as Caroline reaffirms, “We practice having fun and we’re getting really good at it.”

www.myspace.com/chairlift

London's best contemporary art galleries

Although the Tate Modern, the ICA and the Saatchi Museum all have the financial might to bring in top names and big crowds, London still boasts a wealth of alternative contemporary art museums well worth discovering.

Design Museum
This is Practicality Vs Art, all contained in a neat little riverside package. This slender collection offers a brief distraction from your Southbank stroll. When it opened in 1989, under the watchful eye of one Sir Terrance Conran, it was the world’s first museum to be entirely focused on 20th century design. Now that that has swallowed up the 21st century as well aspects like graphics, fashion, architecture, industry, manufacturing and interiors are also included. Anything goes with the exhibits: from global packaging to concepts in video gaming, from Manolo Blahnink shoe designs to Vogue photography. The museum is limited to two floors and the showcases are, therefore, constantly renewed. It’s also worth knowing that there’s a Conran restaurant, the Blue Print Café, on the premises. Get futuristic, get inspired and, while you’re at it, get a great view of the Thames and Tower Bridge.
+44 (0) 870 833 9955
www.designmuseum.org

2 Willow Road
This influential Hampstead homestead will suit fans of modern architecture. It was designed and lived in by Modernist architect, Ernö Goldfinger. If you’re thinking you’ve heard that surname before, you’re right: James Bond’s creator and fellow Hampstead resident, Ian Fleming, allegedly gave Bond’s nemesis the architect’s name when Fleming objected to him demolishing the previous cottages to make way for his modern terrace. Although Goldfinger’s private art collection still lives here and includes important works by Marcel Duchamp, Max Ernst and Henry Moore, it’s the building’s large, open interior that commands the most attention: the clever use of color; the obsessions with wood and concrete; and the spiral staircase designed by Anglo-Danish engineer, Ove Arup. Be warned, entry times are hourly and by tour only, plus facilities are very limited: restricted wheelchair access, no toilets, no refreshments and no parking.
+44 (0) 20 7435 6166
www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-2willowroad

The Barbican Art Gallery and The Curve
Cutting edge art and design housed in possibly London’s most peculiar building. Constructed in the 1980s—and boy does it show—the Barbican Centre is a specifically-built cultural complex (Europe’s largest, apparently). And in terms of galleries it boasts two for the price of one; although one of them is actually free to enter. The Gallery, on the third floor of this labyrinthine monstrosity, heavily favors touring exhibits to keep things fresh (roughly seven shows a year). The rotation brings in elements of fine art, architecture, fashion and design but is particularly well known for photography. The second gallery, The Curve—so called because of its long bent shape—commissions new installations from contemporary artists. You could literally spend an entire day at The Barbican filling your boots with culture what with the concert hall, two theatres, a cinema, and a public library. There’s also the newly-refurbished (as of September 08) Searcy restaurant on site too.
+44 (0) 20 7638 4141
www.barbican.org.uk/artgallery


Bloomberg SPACE
An avant-garde space fueled by the world of business. It seems an odd pairing, especially when you think of all those ghastly works of art in skyscraper foyers dotted around the world. Better to have all the great art collected in one place, wouldn’t you agree? Well, Bloomberg, the kings of business TV, have taken the fiscal-meets-fine-art idea and transposed it into a deliberately innovative venue. This isn’t your average run-of-the-mill contemporary corporate art, this is large and intrepid. The ceilings are especially high and aid the artists in providing a larger and wholly differing sense of perspective. As well as intriguingly themed collectives—such as an exhibition about prison—there are commissioned installations by solo artists: for example, the bold wall paintings of Brit Paul Morrison and the neon explorations of Frenchman Bertrand Lavier. Plus, it’s only a 5-minute walk through the impressive Liverpool Street new business district to the delicious Turkish restaurant, Haz.
+44 (0) 20 7330 7959
www.bloombergspace.com

Kinetica
As the name suggests, this the UK's first, and possibly only, museum dedicated to kinetic, electronic and experimental art. If you like you art to be static, motionless and hung on the wall, this is not the place for you. Everything here exploits the world of movement; where shapes, rhythm, light, energy and sound combine in some sort of quirky science lab. Whilst it somehow conveys the very essence of the East End—fashionable, funky, leftfield, modern—it also quaintly juxtaposes the ‘ye olde’ feel of its Spitalfields Market setting. The installations utilize new media and audiovisual technology and the work is often created by up-and-coming artists. Recent highlights include suspended pens that draw light beams on the floor and a sonic exhibit called Soundwaves. Overall, half an hour spent warming your bones after trawling the vintage clothing stores in the chilly market all morning. Plus, it’s only a two-minute walk from the hearty St. John Bread & Wine eatery.
+44 (0) 20 7392 9674
www.kinetica-museum.org/new_site

Whitechapel Art Gallery
A must for 2009. Although Whitechapel is currently (as of October 2008) in the midst of major redevelopments it’s still worth a mention because if artists like Picasso, Kahlo, Pollock and Rothko have all had UK premiers there, you know it’s got to be great. Like The Barbican, Whitechapel is a one-stop shop for culture, boasting a whole host of events, talks, discussions, films, music and poetry, as well as art installations. If at all humanly possible, try waiting until the Spring of 2009 to visit because by then the £13 million expansion program will be in full operation and what was once the old library will then transform into three new galleries and a street-facing café. It seems the contemporary art scene feels most at home in the East End. The Barbican, Bloomberg SPACE, and Kinetica are all in East London and all less than 15 minutes walk from one another other. Indeed, you might want to have a crack at doing them all in one day.
+44 (0) 20 7522 7888
www.whitechapel.org