Can’t wait until January for the next season of Downton Abbey? A new package from Brown’s Hotel in Mayfair, London, is the perfect antidote for any fans traveling across the pond this summer in need of a first-hand fix. In partnership with Lords Cars, the hotel is giving guests the chance to take advantage of their exclusive chauffeur service and spend a day in the country exploring Highclere Castle – aka Downton Abbey. The fun begins with selecting your vehicle of choice. Die hard Downton fans will undoubtedly choose the Rolls Royce which recently appeared in the show, though other options include the Queen Mum’s favorite, “The Ivy Baroness,†or a Daimler which was featured in the movie “The Italian Job.†Next, travel in impeccable style to Highclere Castle, the home of the Carnarvon family since 1679, where you can explore the interiors of one of England’s more beautiful Victorian castles and wander the extensive gardens in search of the Dowager Countess. History buffs should take note of the castle’s Egyptian Exhibition, which highlights the achievements of the 5th Earl of Carnarvon, who famously discovered the tomb of the Egyptian boy pharaoh, Tutankhamen. After a day of Downton-inspired activities – tea, anyone? – return and relax with a cocktail in Brown’s Donovan Bar before turning in for the night with a copy of Lady Carnarvon’s recent book, the bestselling “Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey.” What’s a weekend, indeed.
die-hard downton
sip sip ahoy
Of all the fun pop-up experiences happening in and around London right now, Vestal Voyages, the world’s first floating pop-up bar, might be the only one that gets me to don a life vest. The scene is a 50-ft classic canal boat, where a maximum ten guests at a time are invited to push out for a leisurely cocktail-fueled voyage along Regent’s Canal. Sailing from King’s Cross you’ll float through the longest tunnel on the canal network before finally emerging in fleafy Islington, downing luxurious libations all along the way. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a lazy afternoon – weather permitting, natch. For more info tweet @vestalvoyages.
hakkasan
Part of the allure of Hakkasan is that you’d walk on by if you didn’t know it was there. A large steel door on a grotty stretch of 43rd Street – which was not too long ago a major thoroughfare for the dispossessed, the deranged, and the deviant – is your only clue. In fact, I strolled past not once but three times, wondering if I had gotten the location right. It’s a peculiarly British fashion, this ramshackle exclusivity designed to be enjoyed like a secret among those in the know. In Hong Kong the idiom reaches a highpoint as a lingering legacy of a restrictive class system: the city is pockmarked with private dining clubs secreted down blind alleyways and atop skyscrapers, where the price of admission demands a secret knock or password. Though an import from London – with outposts in Las Vegas, Doha and Mumbai – Hakkasan feels less like the former and much more like the latter. Opening that steel door is akin to Alice falling down the rabbit hole. A long, ghostly illuminated hallway leads you to a check-in desk, watched over by a pair of grinning Cheshire cats. You wonder yet again if you’ve come to the right place and suddenly have a sinking feeling that perhaps you might get turned away because you don’t know the password. No worries, this is New York: democracy and dollars rule. You have a reservation; you’re warmly greeted and ushered through an expansive marble-clad bar area, thumping with techno music, turning past the kitchen and down another hallway before arriving in the land of the lotus eaters. It’s disorienting, but I expect that’s the objective; you’re so relieved to be seated that the excessively priced menu doesn’t make you blanch: an $888 plate of Japanese abalone? $345 for a Peking duck, albeit garnished with caviar? What, no shark fin or swallows nest soup? Searching for reasonably priced items while sipping an $18 glass of Sauvignon Blanc you’ll recall the wise words of Confucius – not to mention Chinese chowhounds: the less you pay, the more satisfying the meal. A traditional Hakka dim sum platter made for a colorful start: scallop shumai, prawn and chive dumpling, black pepper duck dumpling, and har gau, all pretty to look at – and even tastier to eat – and at $28, or roughly $4 per dumpling, what passes for a bargain here. Udon noodles ($18) are nothing out of the ordinary and skimp on the advertised shredded roast duck but they’re satisfying dressed in plenty of spicy, seafood-rich XO sauce. The Assam Seafood Claypot ($42) is perhaps the most successful plate of the night. Studded with chunks of fish, shrimp, and squid in a savory curry broth, it’s big enough to share and even budget friendly if you load up on rice. Pak choi are bright and crispy but really, $15 for a side of veg? When the bill comes it’s a bit of a shocker, despite best attempts at avoiding anything approaching excess: $200 with tip. For a pre-theater meal it feels like a bit of a rip-off. Then again if I was with the high-rollers in Macao, or above the clouds and looking down on the Hong Kong skyline, I wouldn’t think twice. Perhaps that’s the best way to approach a meal here: close your eyes, drink the potion, and embrace the fantasy of being in a place far more magical than midtown.
kaffeeklatsch
Visitors to the Austrian capital now have an opportunity to get to know the Viennese from a totally different angle. Informal Vienna Coffeehouse Conversations bring together locals and tourists for an evening meal and coffee accompanied by stimulating conversation in that quintessentially Viennese environment: the coffeehouse.  (Organizers were inspired by Viennese coffeehouse culture, which was added to the UNESCO list of intangible cultural assets in 2011.) A special “question menu” inspires the newly acquainted companions to talk about travel, friendship, and family as they enjoy a three-course dinner together in one of a pair of Vienna’s most popular coffeehouses, the Adolph Loos-designed Café Museum and Café Am Heumarkt, a bohemian relic from another era. Conversation-based meals have become a quirky trend in travel, having popped up at street festivals and art galleries from London to Singapore in recent years and even finding their way into the world economic forum in Davos. Think of it as a blind date with guaranteed benefits – or at least a great cup of coffee.
nahm
A few years ago at The Halkin in London, I had the pleasure of enjoying a most extravagant lunch at Nahm, the only Thai restaurant in the world to be bested with a Michelin star. Australian chef David Thompson is an accidental authority on Thai cuisine – a chance holiday in Bangkok ignited a culinary obsession – and his first cookbook, Thai Food, is a meticulous investigation into the multifarious flavors of the kingdom as well as a bible of food porn for gourmands. The success of an additional outpost of the restaurant in Thailand was recently realized earlier this year when it was named one the The 50 Best Restaurants in the World, so naturally this second Nahm moved high atop my list of must-eats in Bangkok. More casual than what you’d find in London, it was nevertheless equally meticulous, with layer upon layer of flavors surprising the palate on a continuous loop. Rarely does a Thai meal have a repetition of tastes, so a curry, a salad, a relish, some soup and a stir-fry all combine to make a varied dining experience. This isn’t food you shovel in with a pair of chopsticks, however; chef Thompson’s dishes – complex and floridly herbaceous – demand you take the time to savor each bite from the chew to the swallow. Served Thai-style, meaning family style and all at once, it also makes for one fragrant and heady feast.
live blog: last licks
Not quite ready to leave this fascinating mess of a country I am nevertheless headed home – with a quick pit-stop in London en route. I feel like I’m going kicking and screaming. Or maybe I should phrase that as eating and drinking. Determined to ingest a last few bits of Greece I scarf down a piece of baklava in the Athens lounge and drink copiously on the Aegean flight to Heathrow. As well I should: opportunity, I’ve learned, is not a lengthy visitor.
triumph of the will
Known as The Lady on the Lagan, the sculpture on Belfast’s arterial waterway was officially christened The Ring of Thanksgiving by Scottish artist Andy Scott. As boring as that sounds there is a logic to the overly earnest title: the 50-foot symbol is the anchor of Thanksgiving Square – the brainchild of Belfast woman Myrtle Smyth, who was inspired following a visit to the non-denominational Thanks-Giving Square in Dallas, Texas – a project with the express aim of creating a public space for the local community to come together and give thanks no matter their religion, color, or faith. For a city rent by years of civil strife this was no idle wish when the square was inaugurated in 2005. A static piece of steel, the artwork nevertheless radiates a powerful energy and sense of urgency; thrusting upwards, as if striving for something larger than itself. Coincidentally The Ring is a visual reminder of how the Olympics take flight tonight in London; moreover, the Games’ motto could just as easily be a watch cry for Belfast these days: Faster, Higher, Stronger.
pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag
I’m back at the sumptuous Merchant Hotel in Belfast’s Cathedral Quarter, site of a rather infamous party I threw almost three years ago. (let’s just say people are still talking about it, thank you very much.) It’s posh, for lack of a better word – meaning attentive, attractive, and very well-proportioned – with an Italianate sandstone facade of columns and capitals backed by carefully restored High Victorian interiors. In fact, the former Ulster Bank headquarters wouldn’t look out-of-place in London or Paris. For a city which ten years ago had but a single boutique hotel, the Merchant is a perfect example of how much in this city has changed. Even at the height of the property bust two years ago the hotel was able to build an Art Deco extension and more than double in size, adding rooms, a spa, and the city’s only authentic jazz bar. To call it a success would be an understatement. From the soaring grandeur of the Great Room Restaurant (where even the profiteroles are swan-necked), to the perfectly judged and beautifully friendly staff, to the overstuffed beds and ample marble bathrooms, the Merchant is an all-out triumph.
fête (& food) for a queen
In honor of Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee, a menu of right royal pedigree is reigning supreme inside London’s Roux at The Landau. Through June 9th, Executive Chef Chris King – with the input of father and son chefs Albert and Michel Roux Jr. – is showcasing a Jubilee option at the celebrated eatery, marked by a crown on each of the daily lunch and pre-theatre menus, reflecting traditional dishes with blue-blood backstorys that have been given a twenty-first century spin. I recently got a glimpse of three of the dishes, but I’d expect there’s going to be a few more sovereign surprises up this King’s sleeve.
In 1952, the year of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, Albert Roux moved to London from France and worked as an apprentice at Cliveden, the illustrious Berkshire country house where he often served soft Cotswold Legbar Hen’s Egg à la Reine  to the likes of Lady Astor. Sporting the title à la Reine, meaning “to the Queen,” the dish is a combination of chicken and foie gras poached in Madeira then bound with truffled mayonnaise and used to fill a traditional brioche a tete. A soft-poached Cotswold Legbar hen’s egg is perched on top and garnished with slices of summer truffle. Roux went on to earn three Michelin stars at Le Gavroche, yet still recalls the dish as one of his most refined – and who can blame him.
Often referred to as the “King of Chefs and the Chef of Kings,†the great Chef Escoffier was born in France but resided in London for many years. He took great delight in naming his dishes after famous people or places, but one dish in particular proved to take the fancy of royalty: Gewürztraminer Poached Var Salmon Royale. And not just because of the royal honorific – when any of Escoffier’s fish dishes ended with the word royale it meant the garnish was crayfish. In this version wild Var salmon is poached in an aromatic Gewürztraminer court bouillon and served with a kingly version of Escoffier’s original garnish – shelled crayfish tails, tiny quenelles of herbed salmon mousseline, and a parisienne of potatoes flavored with crayfish essence.
Hereford Strawberry Queen of Puddings sounds like a champion bitch at the Westminster Show but it’s actually a dessert made famous by Queen Victoria – Britain’s longest-serving monarch – following a trip up north to Manchester. The local residents felt their custard and strawberry jam pudding was too plain for the Queen so they added meringue to dress it up. Her Royal Highness loved it so much it became a staple. The Roux version is much lighter than the original recipe yet calls for rich custard thickened with brioche crumbs. It’s offset with a lightly-set fragrant jam of Hereford strawberries from Oakchurch farm and a mound of glazed Italian meringue.
Roux at The Landau is in the legendary Langham, which opened in 1865 as Europe’s first Grand Hotel. The hotel also happens to serve one of the swankiest afternoon teas in town in collaboration with luxury goods brand Asprey – yet another excuse to toast British heritage and 60 years of The Queen.
at the theatre: one man, two guvnors
That felicitous sound presently pervading the air on 45th street is an all-too rare commodity on Broadway: laughter.  But let’s not be coy about it – it’s the sound of an audience chortling, chuckling, cackling, crowing and collectively fearing for the state of their underpants as they convulse with bowel-shaking, tear-inducing, thigh-slapping, laughter of the most frivolous and fun kind. Praise be Carlo Goldoni, the 18th century author behind that commedia-inspired classic The Servant of Two Masters; it serves as rich fodder for One Man, Two Guvnors, Richard Bean’s Anglicized adaptation of the stock-in-trade Harlequin story. The National Theatre of Great Britain production under the direction of Nicholas Hytner is cleverly set in end-of-the-pier Brighton, and references all the great English low-comedy traditions, like musical hall, variety, farce, and the  boobs and babes shtick of Benny Hill. At the center of the hilarity is Francis Henshall, the “one man” of the title who’s both the accidental architect of the story’s complications as well as its cynosure. James Corden repeats his praised London performance as the easily-confused Henshall, who agrees to work for a local small time gangster as well as a criminal in hiding, both of whom are linked in a web of  schemes and romantic entanglements – none of which he can keep straight. Doing everything in his power to keep his two guvnors from meeting – while trying to eat everything in sight – Corden performs comedic feats of physical derring do that recall the total corporal investment and precision timing of Danny Kaye and Donald O’Connor in their prime. It’s not a spoiler (I hope) to tell you that at one point Corden picks a fight – with himself, no less – which somehow manages to take over the entire width of the stage to gut-busting effect. Such is the gratifying pleasure (just one of many) of horseplay, which seeks to do little more than amuse. Though the title might suggest something to the contrary, One Man is far from a one-man show. The cast of supporting characters are all worthy of mention, each a small masterpiece of finely-tuned comic archetype: the saucy secretary poured into a too-tight twin-set (Suzie Toase); an all-too-serious wannabe actor with a curious musical talent (the fantastic Daniel Rigby); a woman disguised as her dead brother (Jemima Rooper); the posh public school prat with a gift for inventive declaratives (the brillianticious Oliver Chris); the sidekick with the recurring catchphrase (Trevor Laird); a physically impaired waiter called upon to balance one plate too many (a terrifically nimble Tom Edden). Why, there is even a buoyant onstage band, The Craze, a skiffle-flavored rock ‘n’ roll quartet, if you will, which swings into song every time the curtain comes down. To anyone who lives in fear of audience participation, however, buyer beware: you might want to consider the first few rows of the theater a no-go zone. To everyone else, I suggest you “hold your hand out, you naughty boy,” as the old music hall song instructs, and prepare to clap and laugh like it’s going out of style.
at the theatre: end of the rainbow
Judy Garland’s life was stranger than fiction. An international star since the age of twelve, the arc of her professional success and personal pain is a study of a life lived in extremis. Accolades and addictions went hand in hand. Triumph and tribulation, too. Could there be a story better suited to the stage?  I think not. Though her life has seen its share of … how shall we say? … creative adaptations – Adrienne Barbeau as Judy in The Property Known As Garland will go down in my personal theatergoing history as a camp classic par excellence – Peter Quilter’s award-winning 2005 play End of the Rainbow focuses on the legend as she prepares for what would amount to a final career comeback at London’s Talk of the Town, just three scant months before a fatal overdose. After successful runs in Australia and the UK, the play finally lands on Broadway with a jolt of electricity I can only describe as seismic. It’s not so much the quality of the play that kept me riveted to the edge of my seat but the roof-raising, star-making performance of Tracie Bennett as the singular Garland. I won’t mince words, this could easily have turned into a catastrophic exercise in caricature (see Barbeau, above). Yet Bennett transcends mere mimicry and fully invests the woman with an excruciating vulnerability that’s at times almost too painful to witness. Emotionally this Garland is like a cat skinned alive, at the end of her tether and tenaciously struggling with inner demons both inspiring and all-consuming. As her adoring (gay) accompanist Anthony, Michael Cumpsty is an adept, if occasional, foil along with Tom Pelphrey as musician Mickey Deans, the final fiancée who both orchestrated her comeback and enabled its demise. But let’s be honest, the men in Garland’s life were little more than extravagant accessories and the same holds true here. The truly spine-tingling moments take place when Bennett is left alone on stage, performing a handful of Garland’s most memorable songs with show-stopping humor and gusto. It’s like stepping through a looking-glass: you’re in London, 1969, and one of the 20th century’s greatest artists is giving you everything she’s got – and then some. Try and remember the last time you saw a play where the audience roared for an encore. Now hightail it to the Belasco, where it happens nightly – and the audience only exits the theater reluctantly.
it’s the thought that counts
I’m a luxury hotel junkie. If I had my druthers I would live in one permanently. Some people find it impersonal – I think it’s heaven. The friendly faces, the room service, the myriad little extras designed to be  not-so-surreptitiously slipped into an outward bound valise. Once upon a time a good hotel was heralded by two essentials: intuitive staff and bespoke toiletries. (To this day if I close my eyes I can instantly recall Claridge’s in London, the bars of Floris soap sensuously wrapped in a wax-coated paper. Tokyo will forever be associated with the Park Hyatt in my mind - and miniature bottles of a then-unknown Molton Brown, as exotic as the ingredients inside.) It holds true today, for the most part. Yet at the same time more and more hotels are falling over themselves to lure back guests with in-room trinkets and takeaways. Some of them are practical, like the personalized business cards on my desk at the Washington, DC Fairmont. Some are fanciful, like the monogrammed robe that was waiting for me at The Plaza. What’s impressive, ultimately, is the thought that goes into each – elevating a run-of-the-mill hotel stay into something memorable. My pick for this month’s best of the best comes courtesy of the DC Fairmont. An elegant and portable solution for gentleman: credit card collar stays.
travel tips: round-the-world
It’s the ultimate trip: circumnavigating the planet, stopping off wherever takes your fancy. Great for travelers who want to see it all, or who are just plain indecisive. But booking a round-the-world trip can be a complex business. Here’s a guide to getting started.
How to do it: The most economical way to circumnavigate is to buy a round-the-world air ticket that uses one airline alliance. Theoretically, any routing is possible, but knowing how the RTW booking system works will make your trip cheaper. For example, the Star Alliance, a coalition of 27 airlines, offers a RTW ticket with a maximum of 15 stops. Its member airlines fly to 1185 airports in 185 countries. There are rules: you must follow one global direction (east or west — no backtracking); you must start and finish in the same country; and you must book all your flights before departure, though you can change them later (which may incur extra charges).
How long you need:Â You could whip round the world in a weekend if you flew non-stop. However, the minimum duration of most RTW tickets is ten days — still a breathless romp. Consider stock-piling vacation days, tagging on public holidays or even arranging a sabbatical in order to take off two months, ideally six to 12. The maximum duration of a RTW ticket is one year.
When to go: The weather will never be ideal in all your stops. So, focus on what you want to do most and research conditions there: if a Himalayan trek is your highlight, don’t land in Nepal mid-monsoon; if you want to swim with whale sharks off Western Australia, be there April-July. Then accept you’ll be in some regions at the “wrong” time — though this might offer unexpected benefits (for example, Zambia in wet season means lush landscapes and cheaper prices). In general, city sightseeing can be done year-round (escape extreme heat/cold/rain in museums and cafés) but outdoor adventures are more reliant on — and enjoyable in — the right weather.
Where to go: The classic (and cheapest) RTW tickets flit between a few big cities, for example London — Bangkok — Singapore — Sydney — LA. If you want to link more offbeat hubs (Baku — Kinshasa — Paramaribo, anyone?), prices will climb considerably. The cost of the ticket is based on the total distance covered or the number of countries visited. Remember, you don’t have to fly between each point: in Australia you could land in Perth, travel overland, and fly out of Cairns. Or fly into Moscow, board the Trans-Siberian train, and fly onwards from Beijing. Pick some personal highlights and string the rest of your itinerary around those. For instance, if you’re a keen trekker, flesh out a Peru (Inca Trail), New Zealand (Milford Track) and Nepal (Everest Base Camp) itinerary with Brazil (Rio’s a good access point for South America), Australia and North India. If budget’s an issue, spend more time in less expensive countries. Your daily outgoings will be far higher in Western Europe and North America than South-East Asia; Indonesia, Bolivia and India are particularly cheap.
Tips, tricks & pitfalls:
— Talk to an expert before you book: you may have an itinerary in mind but an experienced RTW flight booker will know which routings work best and cost least — a few tweaks could mean big savings.
— Be flexible: moving your departure date by a few days can save money; mid-week flights are generally cheaper, as are flights on Christmas Day.
— Think about internal travel: it can be cheaper to book internal flights at the same time as booking your RTW ticket — but, with the global increase of low-cost airlines, you may find it better (and more flexible) to buy them separately as you go.
— Be warned: if you don’t board one of your booked flights (say, on a whim, you decide to travel overland from Bangkok to Singapore rather than fly it) your airline is likely to cancel all subsequent flights.
born in a trunk
Maybe it’s the dandy in me but I could easily spend all my money – and then some – shopping my way across London. (Is there another city in the world that takes its waistcoats and collar stays half as seriously? I think not.) Luckily the concierge at The Langham didn’t put me on to Trunk Clothiers, a recently-opened menswear store in Marylebone, until I was halfway out the door for Heathrow. Swedish-born Mats Klingberg is behind the impeccably curated boutique at 8 Chiltern Street where only a few of the handmade modern classics are well-known labels, with highlights including Japanese label Tabio and Porter, Boglioli jackets and suits, Edwin jeans and very appealing flat caps from Wigéns. They say good things come to those who wait. Good thing I’ve got a plane to catch.