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JULY 2012
109
the newly added chandeliers and decadent black fleur-de-lis wallpaper, the joint still
seems pre y rock ’n’ roll. You end the night like this, sipping ale, furtively monitoring
the floorboards for ancient vibrations.
DAYTHREE
| Youwake at Blakes to find yourself buried
in pillows—there must be 20 on your bed. The hotel
was created in the late ’70s by actress-designer Anouska
Hempel, making it one of the first hotels in the world
to define itself as “boutique.” The décor is an eccentric,
flamboyant blend of Asian and Victorian influences,
a jumble of brooding reds and billowing whites. A er
disinterringyourself fromthepillowsituation, youhead
downstairs for aplate of “spicyParsee” eggs—scrambled,
with chili and coriander—and a dozen glasses of OJ.
Nowyou’re ready to face the day. You start bypopping
into the nearby
Natural History Museum
, a spectacular
repository of natural wonders, including a world-class
collectionof dinosaur bones, before venturing into
Hyde
Park and Kensington Gardens
, a 625-acre swath of urban
countryside that makes you regret not bringing a fox-
hound. You happen upon the Princess DianaMemorial
Fountain, which isn’t somuch a fountain as a large oval
sluice, but still, it’s not without impact. Near Diana’s
sculpture is the Albert Memorial, erected by Queen
Victoria in 1876 to honor her late husband. A towering
confection of Gothic Revival spires and bejeweled
detailing, it stands as a testament to grief gone berserk.
Having exited the gardens, you take a 15-minute
stroll to the clu er of
Portobello Market
, where teens
with fashion sense to burn buy old fob watches and
T-shirts bearing designs by street artist Banksy. The
market stretches for two miles, and you make it half-
way, digging through stylish vintage clothes, cra s and
antiques and pausing for the occasional snack, before
finally running out of steam and hailing a taxi.
You arrive in Soho, a former den of iniquity that
has upped its game. While there’s still the odd imagi-
native enterprise here, today it’s an adjunct to the
theater district, a place to people-watch until curtain
You duck into
Aladin
,
self-proclaimed
“Curry King of Brick Lane,” and order
the Aladin Special Masala. It’s delicious,
smoky, sweet and spicy, totally unique.
You try to get the waiter to tell youwhat’s
in it, but he shakes his head. “Is that cin-
namon?” you demand. He won’t say. You
press. He offers to give you the recipe for
any dish on themenu, “but not the Special
Masala.” You relent.
A quick Tube trip takes you to Angel,
and
The Hope & Anchor
. You step inside
the handsome old Victorian boozer and
call for a pint of good real ale, served at
room temperature. The list of bands that
have played this bar strains credulity: The
Clash, Joy Division, The Police, U2. Acts
still play here, and even though the bar-
tender expressesmild reservations about
LONDON
||
THREE PERFECT DAYS
GOLDEN AGE
Left, the Albert Memorial in
Kensington Gardens; right, Café 1001;
below, wood pigeon at Soho’s St. John Hotel