When the government of New Zealand invited citizens to submit designs for a proposed new flag, they probably weren’t expecting a kiwi (the bird, that is) shooting lasers from its eyes—or a rainbow from its backside, for that matter.
But that’s what they got, and sooooo much more. Approximately 10,300 more wanna-be banners, to be exact(ish).
After months of unflagging (ahem) anticipation, the results are finally in. This week, Kiwis voted on their favourite design. But before “the big reveal,” let’s take a moment to see how the contest shaped up—and review the best of the bizarre designs. (Hang in there. I promise you, it’s worth it).
The initial task of whittling all those thousands of submissions down to a mere 40 fell to “The Panel,” as the official flag deciderers dubbed themselves—anticipating, perhaps, a “So You Think You Can Design a Flag” reality show judged by retired warrior princess Lucy Lawless and down-at-their-furry-heels ex-Hobbits.
Given the enterprising “anything goes” spirit of this endeavor, I had hoped that the ultimate victor would be selected in a televised cage match, where the participants would not be scored on the merits of their designs, but by their Smaug-slaying skills (or, at the very least, their bikini mud wrestling abilities).
In fact, voters selected what they deemed the best option from a field of five in late 2015, and the winner of that referendum—a triumphant fern—was then pitted against the old flag in a final vote in March 2016.
And the winner is…the original New Zealand flag, first adopted in 1902.
That’s right. The whole business cost $27 million dollars, and absolutely nothing changed.
The competition wasn’t a total waste, however. At least the good people of New Zealand proved they have a winning sense of humour.
So, lest their efforts be forgotten, here are the most, er, “creative” designs, which, unfortunately, will not be waving proudly over New Zealand’s parliament building anytime soon.
Flash back to the last millennium. (Wow, that makes me feel old). I’m standing on an Atlanta street corner outside the Metroplex, a grimy mosh pit of a music venue that never aspired to a title as noble as “nightclub,” waiting to see a punk band with a rude name that I wouldn’t repeat in polite company…if I ever kept any.
I’m drinking clear rot-gut fluid—ostensibly vodka, which tastes as though it was brewed in the bathtub of a flophouse—out of a Coca-Cola can. Why? Well, I’m technically a wee bit underage to be seen drinking alcohol, and hiding the contraband liquor in a soda can seems somehow classier than slurping out of a bottle in a paper sack. Not that anyone else cuing at the Metroplex is terribly bothered about keeping up appearances. They’re more concerned about keeping up their spiky, gravity-defying mohawks in the Southern humidity.
Fast forward to last Friday. Now I’m sitting beside a marble fireplace in the Donovan Bar at Brown’s Hotel in London. This Rocco Forte property is a paean of wood-paneled elegance, lit by flickering candles and bright laughter.
Once again, I’m drinking vodka—but this time, it’s served in a respectable shot glass emblazoned with a sturgeon, and the fluid is so smooth, it slips past my lips and glides over my tongue like a warm, breathy whisper.
While the stuff I guzzled outside the Metroplex may well have been poured from a gasoline can, this nectar comes in a limited edition bottle with an embossed silver and gold label.
It’s sealed with wax and opened with a tiny, Barbie-sized hammer and brush, for heaven’s sake.
This, my friends, is Beluga Gold Line Vodka.
It’s made by the Mariinsk Distillery in Siberia, and it’s not even the same species as any vodka I’ve tasted before. It is, quite simply, dangerously delicious stuff. Read more: Beluga Vodka at Rocco Forte’s Brown’s Hotel: A Superior Sipping Experience
Tongues—and tails—are wagging over VisitScotland’s canny new campaign for an “ambassadog.” Does your rambling Rover have what it takes to be Scotland’s V.I.P. (Very Important Pooch)?
The lucky dog chosen for the role over all other competitors will be treated to a holiday around Scotland with his or her owner. Canine applicants must be “outgoing and sociable,” and the winner will have the opportunity to blog about the experience on www.visitscotland.com. So if your pup can type, he’ll probably win paws-down.
The position is open for all dogs from any region of Scotland, whether he’s a West Highland Tartan Terrier or a Loch Ness Labrador. To bone up on details, click here. The deadline is April 6, 2016.
May the best man…er, make that “man’s best friend”…win.
Tom Cruise. Kevin Spacey. Beyoncé. Jay-Z. John Malkovich. Richard Gere. Catherine Zeta-Jones. Michael Douglas. Oh, and pretty much the entire cast of “Game of Thrones.”
No, that’s not a list of celebrities who have been papped tumbling tipsily out of taxis, or who eat only organic macrobiotic algae or insist on traveling with an albino pet monkey named Zoolander. Rather, it’s a red carpet rundown of stars who have been spotted in one of Europe’s hottest destinations—the historic walled city of Dubrovnik, abutting the Adriatic Sea. Read more: Stargazing in Dubrovnik: Game of Thrones
With the airing of Downton Abbey’s final episode, avid viewers may be feeling bereft. But take heart. You can still follow in the footsteps of your favorite footmen, comely maids and high-spirited heiresses when you head to England to tour this hit series’ most atmospheric film locations.
Tallinn is making up for lost time. After being bandied about by the USSR and Nazi Germany before finally gaining independence 25 years ago, the Estonian capital today is like a freshman at university, relishing a taste of freedom, revved up on Red Bull and ready to party.
Yet wherever you go, there’s history, smacking you on the back of the head like that last ill-advised shot of Jagermeister at one of the city’s late-night dance halls, all juxtaposed against a kind of frenetic, youthful joy and capitalist ambition. If you want to experience a society teetering at a cultural and temporal crossroads, this is the time to visit Tallinn. Read more: Tallinn: Rock up to Estonia’s Cool Capital
Twelve years ago, Michael became a living kidney donor.
Today, the recipient is still enjoying the incredible gift of a new lease on life, thanks to Michael’s selfless act.
I hope his story, told in his own words, will motivate others to do the same.
Maybe it will even help us find a kidney for my dear friend Jennifer Hasty.
With her unflagging cheer and irrepressible smile, Jen continues to be an inspiration to everyone she meets, despite her deteriorating health. I’d like to see that smile shine for many decades more.
Some people boycott Valentine’s Day, denouncing it as “too cheesy.” Yes, too cheesy–like that’s a bad thing. But, taken literally, I say, “Amen, and pass the pressed curds.”
That’s right, people. I’m suggesting eschewing bouquets of wilting red roses and giving the gift of cheese for V-Day. After all, who can resist a hearty hunk of fromage? Unless, of course, your lover is lactose intolerant–because, let’s face it, nothing kills the mood like stomach pains and flatulence.
Now, I’d never recommend that you simply sling a block of shrink-wrapped cheddar in a plastic sack at your sweetheart’s feet, and if a bit of canoodling is on the menu, by all means bypass the blue. (Although it’s one of my favourites, I think we can all agree that it smells a bit like unwashed feet).
No, I’m talking about preparing a romantic meal–wine, candlelight, cloth napkins, the works–with French goat cheese, better known as chèvre. Why chèvre? Because it’s mild, versatile, and your lips kind of pucker when you say it.
Admittedly, ever since I set my kitchen on fire, I rarely attempt anything more challenging than uncorking a bottle of wine. Fortunately, my better half, the Silver Fox, is a culinary wizard, and he’s perfected three recipes, using three different types of chèvre, to accommodate varying levels of ability. (Or inability, in my case.) Read more: The Cheesiest Way to Say “I Love You”
Dishoom is, apparently, the Indian equivalent of “kapow”–and I can confirm that breakfast at the Bombay-inspired eatery certainly packs a punch. In fact, it’s so popular that, even on a cold winter’s day, crowds are lined up thirty deep outside the King’s Cross location, waiting for their chance to belly up to a heaping plate and bottomless tumbler of warm spiced chai.
Here’s a top tip, though. Make a reservation, and you can breeze past the crowds. Don’t forget to channel the graceful spirit of Princess Di, offering a bashful, apologetic smile as you sidestep the queue, who may collectively raise a frozen finger or two in what you can opt to interpret as a “salute” to your clever forethought. Read more: Dishoom Packs a Punch
With the British pound plummeting to its lowest value against the dollar in years, London is currently a bargain for American travelers. If you want to stretch your budget even further, it’s as easy as a walk in the park…or, rather, along the river.
As I’ve discovered while entertaining visitors in the city I’ve called home for nearly a decade, one of the best (and cheapest) ways to acquaint yourself with the capital is by pounding the pavement along the Thames.
With this four mile, self-guided walking tour, you can experience 1,000 years of history, without the aid of Dr. Who’s TARDIS. You might opt to spring for admission to some of the sterling attractions along the way, but you aren’t obliged to burn a lot of cash…just calories. Read more: Best London Walk: Time-Traveling Along the Thames
Some seasoned travelers may cast a weary eye upon Europe. London, Paris, Rome…check, check, and check. But if you think you’ve “been there, done that,” it may be time to consider Croatia.
Since joining the European Union in 2013, this slice of the former Yugoslavia has officially hit the big time. Twenty years after the Croatian War of Independence, its once battle-scarred cities have been beautifully rebuilt, and the country wants the world to know: it’s open for business.
If you haven’t yet dipped your toe in the sapphire Adriatic Sea abutting its shores or discovered the museum-packed capital of Zagreb, Abercrombie & Kent’s nine-day Connections tour–“Croatia: Jewel of the Coast”–offers a tantalizingly moreish taste of this croissant-shaped nation. Read more: Croatia: Taster Tour with Abercrombie & Kent
Whether you want to know where to go to see Scotland Yard’s original evidence and artifacts from London’s most notorious crime scenes–or if you’re curious about the best Scottish single malts to whet your whistle with (something I’d never attempt to say after a wee dram or two)–check out my interview with the world’s most charming Travel Detective, Peter Greenberg.
To hear my first interview with Peter, where we discuss the words you should NEVER say in Britain, click here.
To learn more about “The Crime Museum Uncovered” exhibition at The Museum of London, click here.
If anyone out there was wondering, the website ABroadInBritain.com was already taken. D’oh! Guess I’m sticking with AmyLaughinghouse.com. There’s only one of those!
Dozens of hardback tomes, as big and sturdy as a fleet of family Bibles on steroids, line theatrically lit shelves. Banquette sofas fill one corner of the double-height room, which is cushioned underfoot by a plush Persian rug. A barman is slinging cocktails behind a polished mahogany bar, and on this particular night—a special event for the luxurious Aman resorts—waiters are circulating with bijoux nibbles.
And, oh yes, a nude, nubile nymph pores over the pages of a book in the midst of it all. Read more: Maison Assouline: A Bookstore…With a Bar (and a Sultan’s Den)
Her name is Jennifer Hasty. She’s one of those people that everyone loves, with an irrepressible laugh that makes you laugh along with her even when you missed the joke, and a huge smile that rarely leaves her face.
Jennifer’s kidneys first began to fail years ago. Why? Her doctors think it was due to an infection that she acquired as a teenager while doing missionary work in Haiti. Yep, that’s Jen. While most of us were mooning over posters of Duran Duran tacked to the walls of our comfortable middle class homes, she was volunteering in poverty-stricken communities.
Devon, England: On an isolated promontory above the River Dart, a Georgian mansion hunkers down amid dense, tangled woods and gardens.
Tucked well away from any major road, it seems like the perfect place for a murder. In fact, it’s been the scene of several.
One man perished of hemlock poisoning in the garden. A girl was strangled in the boathouse, and a body was once concealed in a studded chest that dominates the hallway.
Fortunately, those dark deeds took place only in the fertile imagination of Agatha Christie, who featured her holiday home, Greenway, in Five Little Pigs, Dead Man’s Folly, and Ordeal by Innocence. The trunk was also a key element in her short story The Mystery of the Spanish Chest.
Located half an hour south of Torquay, the “English Riviera” town where Christie was born on September 15, 1890, Greenway will look familiar to fans of the Hercule Poirot mysteries. David Suchet, who played the brilliant, mustachioed Belgian detective for 13 seasons, filmed one of his last episodes, “Dead Man’s Folly,” here in 2013.
But beyond the macabre thrill of finding yourself at a fictional murder scene, visitors to the home have a rare opportunity to read between the lines and ferret out fascinating clues about the famous—and famously shy—Dame Agatha.Read more: Christie Country: The Queen of Crime’s Legacy Lives on in Coastal England
With its silky beaches, chic shops, luxury marinas, and eclectic dining scene, Calvia is a favourite European escape. Discover the top ten attractions of this sun-soaked municipality on the southwestern coast of Mallorca, one of the hottest hideaways in Spain’s Balearic Islands.
An evening spent mingling with the pink-cheeked crowds at festive fairs throughout Europe could transform the most curmudgeonly Scrooge and the greenest of Grinches into stocking-stuffing, carol-crooning converts.
Imagine rustic chalets overflowing with handicrafts that might have been fashioned by elves themselves; historic town squares illuminated by twinkling strands of lights; and local delicacies, from bratwurst to pastries, washed down with mugs of mulled wine.
Here’s a look at some of the best cities to stoke your holiday spirit.
“So, what do you like to…do…when you travel?” my mother asked me recently. She posed the question with a slightly furrowed brow, in the sort of dubious tone you might otherwise reserve for quizzing the man next to you on the Tube about why he’s wearing a lime green mankini and clutching a jar filled with human hair and toenail clippings—except, of course, you would never speak to that man, or even look him in the eye.Read more: Get Lost! In the nicest possible way…
For thrills and chills on Halloween, pack up your pumpkin and your Ghostbusters’ proton pack and check out this spirited trio of historic escapes.
There is a death match brewing between the English cities of Chester, Durham and York, the likes of which the (nether)world has never seen before. While most places try to tempt tourists by touting themselves as “lively” destinations, these three cities take pride in vying for the title of the most (un)dead.
The Ghost Research Foundation International once named York “Europe’s most haunted city,” but HauntedChester.com insists that Chester “can rightly and justly claim to be the most haunted city in England,” thanks to a series of turbulent and tragic events. (While “Chester: Famine, plague, war—and more!” is hardly the sort of tagline you’ll find on promotional t-shirts and bumper stickers, it would seem to serve as a veritable primordial soup for spooks).
But if you think Chester and York are swamped with specters, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. According to ParanormalDatabase.com, Durham has been besieged by dozens of phantoms, including a Pekinese, flying pitchforks, an impregnating chair, and the, um, “limbless worm.” (Is there any other kind?)
Aside from being “limbless,” this critter is described as “a long, hostile worm which inhabited an oak wood, attacking man and beast,” much like the killer rabbit from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
I only hope that my tour of Chester, Durham and York will finally allow the whole matter to, er, rest in peace.Read more: A Ghoulishly Good Time in Scary Ol’ England
If you’ve ever dreamed of walking in the wingtips of the world’s sexiest super spy–or tottering along in the sky-high stilettos of a Bond babe–read on for a list of Great Britain’s most 007-worthy adventures. Whether you’re burning up the road in an Aston Martin—or burning big bucks on London’s aptly-named Bond Street–these top six tips will leave you feeling more stirred than shaken.
The Museum of London is giving amateur sleuths and clued-in fans of television mystery dramas an unprecedented opportunity to see how real British detectives have solved some of the UK’s most infamous crimes.
“The Crime Museum Uncovered” exhibition, which opened on October 9, features around 600 artifacts from notorious cases involving the likes of Jack the Ripper and London gangsters Ronald and Reggie Kray, portrayed by Tom Hardy in the new film Legend.
The objects are culled from the London Metropolitan Police’s Crime Museum, founded in 1875 as an educational resource for the police. For more than a century, its contents have been shrouded in mystery, earning it the nickname “the Black Museum.” Access to this facility in New Scotland Yard is strictly controlled and typically reserved for members of law enforcement. Mere curiosity seekers need not apply.
Now, for the first time, the Museum of London is shedding light on this collection, enabling the public to see how actual cases were investigated and examine damning evidence used to secure convictions.
Here’s a common enough scenario. You’re searching for a soul mate–or hey, maybe just someone to share a Tinder moment with–so you turn to the Internet to peruse your options.
You quickly skim through descriptions provided by potential partners. “Likes puppies, sunsets, and long walks on the beach. Never clips toenails on public transportation. Master of the back massage. Mildly obsessed with feet. Afflicted by a paralyzing fear of clowns.”
Aside from a questionable foot fetish and the clown thing (although honestly, who doesn’t think they’re creepy), this could be promising, right? (Hey, it’s a Saturday night, you’re lonely, and you’ve just polished off your third G&T. It’s possible your standards are slipping slightly).
Anyway, you think you might give this one a shot. But let’s be honest. No way are you going to commit to a drink together until you sneak a peek at a photo.
Now, imagine choosing a wine like you might choose your next date. That, in essence, is the concept behind PerfectCellar.com. This boutique online service, which is the exclusive UK importer for 25 wine producers from around the world, understands that a juicy photo is the best way to whet one’s appetite.
For one week only, Londoners can travel to Berlin for the cost of an Overground ticket.
No, this isn’t one of those crazy flight deals on a “bargain” airline that makes its money back by charging for oxygen, seatbelts and toilet paper sold by the square inch.
Rather, there’s a new pop-up shop on Bethnal Green Road in Shoreditch showcasing nifty gifts and high-octane bottled libations made in Berlin. The store is open through Sunday, October 11, 2015…not-so-coincidentally coinciding with London’s “Cocktail Week.”
“We wanted to create a place where you can feel the spirit of Berlin,” explains Burkhard Kieker, CEO of VisitBerlin, who is heading up this European pop-up promotional tour for Germany’s capital. The tour began in Stockholm on 21 September and will up sticks next for Vienna, followed by Amsterdam and Paris.
Kieker attributes Berlin’s appeal to “the three T’s: talent, technology and tolerance. This is our recipe for success.”
So what happens when the best of Berlin—a city renowned for its liberality and creativity–meets achingly hip East London? Here some highlights from today’s grand opening.
If you’ve never walked into a hotel room and burst into tears—of joy, that is–then it’s time you visited the newly refurbished Ashford Castle in Cong, Ireland. The 800-year-old stone stronghold, recently named “Hotel of the Year” by the Virtuoso luxury travel network, reopened in Spring 2015 following a US $75 million dollar roof-to-cellar renovation.
Frankly, its super-luxurious makeover has left some folks feeling a bit verklempt. Duty Manager Emer Mulcahy has actually seen guests cry when they’re shown to their rooms, “because they’re so beautiful,” she explains. “They’ve got the ‘wow’ factor.”
Amsterdam is best known for its risqué Red Light District, where working girls pose in neon-lit windows and “coffee shops” sell substances substantially more mood altering than a Starbucks’ triple venti no foam latte.
Veer west off the tourist trail, however, and you’ll encounter a completely different city. Picture buzzing local restaurants and cafés, one-of-a-kind shops and hipster havens that have brought previously derelict areas back to life.
During the last weekend of every August, approximately one million punters rock up for Red Stripe and revelry at London’s Notting Hill Carnival. Originally introduced by Caribbean immigrants in the mid-60s, the event has evolved into one of Europe’s biggest street celebrations. Think of Mardi Gras…on steroids.
Picture parades of scantily clad dancers, undulating in sequins and feathers as they writhe and wiggle among the crowds or hover above the fray on elaborate floats, snaking through the streets of one of London’s buzziest multicultural neighbourhoods. Clouds of smoke rise up from BBQ stalls, perfuming the air with eau de jerk chicken and curried goat.
Giant speakers blast steal drums and reggae so loudly that the sound waves vibrate your very bones. Meanwhile, Gaz’s Rockin’ Blues Bandstand (the best free show you’ll ever see, or your money back) features live performances by costumed musicians on a set worthy of a West End theatre.
For the three years I lived in Notting Hill, I had a front-row seat for the carnival, taking in the action from atop the porch outside my window. (My rear windows overlooked the dumpsters of a Tesco loading dock, but I tend not to brag about that so much).
While some folks boarded up their shops and ground floor flats, fleeing the crowds, I locked and loaded my camera, knowing that many of the year’s most memorable moments were about to unfold in the neighbourhood I felt fortunate to call home.
Here are some of the strangest moments from Carnivals past.
On my way to breakfast my first morning at St. John’s Caneel Bay resort, I pass several wide-eyed deer, an iguana basking in the sultry Caribbean sun, and a herd of donkeys, casually scratching their backsides on the trunks of palm trees. But something’s missing here. There’s not another human being in sight.
Just as a vague sense of panic sets in—have I missed the Rapture?—I near the waterfront breakfast pavilion, where I catch a reassuring whiff of bacon. So unless Noah’s menagerie has learned to use opposable thumbs and toss a skillet—or a wayward boar has spent too much time tanning in the sun–I’m relatively certain there are at least a few lost souls lingering about.
If a haven of such solitude seems improbable in the ever-popular Caribbean, consider this. More than half of St. John is devoted to national parklands, making it arguably the wildest and most pristine of the U.S. Virgin Islands.Read more: St. John: The Wild Child of the Caribbean
Banish the beige, drop the drab, and refuel your fashionista spirit with a visit to “Savage Beauty,” a retrospective of the late Alexander McQueen’s sartorial extremes on display at London’s V&A.
Claire Wilcox, the V&A’s senior Curator of Fashion, has considerably expanded upon the original exhibit at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. For the London show, which continues through August 2, 2015, Wilcox sourced 66 additional pieces and included a new section focusing on McQueen’s early collections.
The result is an extraordinary selection of 240 ensembles dating from 1992 to 2010, displayed over ten themed rooms.
Here are a few “do’s” and “don’t’s” to bear in mind if you’re planning a visit.Read more: McQueen, the King of Controversial Couture, Lives on at the V&A
When I was invited to London’s 45 Park Lane hotel for a cooking lesson with celebrity chef Wolfgang Puck, I wondered if I should warn him about “the incident.” That is to say, the day I set my kitchen on fire. (I saw no point in muddying the waters by revealing the time I nearly blew my head off with a pressure cooker, too).Read more: In the Kitchen with Wolfgang Puck
With glorious Glastonbury descending on the fields of Worthy Farm once again, here’s a photo essay of some of my favourite moments from Glasto 2014. You’ll laugh (I hope). You’ll cry (probably not). But you will, undoubtedly, be very grateful that you have indoor plumbing.
Approaching my table at The Turk’s Head pub on St. Agnes with a glass of Cornish Rattler cider in hand (for who can resist a pint pulled from a tap shaped like the head of a snake–wearing sunglasses), I’m shocked to hear that the conversation has turned to talk of a murder here on the Isles of Scilly, a tranquil beach community off the southwestern coast of England.
“1976,” replies Katharine Sawyer, an archeologist who leads guided walks around the islands.
Considering that the islands’ second most notorious incident in nearly four decades was the case of the Knicker Nicker—a man who was convicted of stealing ladies’ underwear in 2005—it’s hardly surprising to learn that the Scillies claim the lowest crime rate in the country.
When Police Sergeant Colin Taylor posted a Facebook advertisement for a new constable on the Isles of Scilly this past April, candidates from as far away as Thailand, Australia, South Africa and the Philippines threw their cap in the ring for “quite possibly the most enviable policing post in the UK or even the world.”
As Taylor explained, this “unique opportunity” requires the ability to “issue a parking ticket to your spouse so tactfully so as not find dinner in the dog thereafter” and “unflinching confidence to know what to do when you are alerted to an abandoned seal pup making its way up the main street.”
Talk about star power. World-renowned theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking and Brian May of Queen, who holds the rare distinction of being both a rocker and an astrophysicist, are among the celebrities throwing their weight behind Starmus III, a unique Tenerife-based festival devoted to science, art and music.
The pair appeared at London’s Royal Astronomical Society, alongside the Tenerife Island Government’s President Carlos Alonso and festival founder, astrophysicist Garik Israelian, to promote the next Starmus. It will be held on June 27-July 2, 2016, encompassing a stargazing party at Tenerife’s Teide National Park, a round-table discussion at the GTC Roque de los Muchachos Observatory Dome on La Palma, an astrophotography competition and a live concert.
Growing up in the Southern United States, I learned the fundamental fashion rules from my mother. Never wear white after Labor Day. Always match your shoes and your handbag. There’s no such thing as a bow that’s “too big.” And do not, under any circumstances–not even on a triple dog dare–sport a duct-taped box on your head. (Like I said…the basics.)
But when I moved to London eight years ago, I found folks around every corner who not only broke the rules. They burned them, smashed them, and jumped up and down on them in Doc Martens that–get this–clashed with their handbag.
I have a couple of theories about Londoners’ funky fashion sense. One is that you’ve got to push the boundaries if you want to stand out in a city of more than eight million.
Another is that closets here are so small, you’re pretty much forced to mix and match the few items you own with maximum…let’s just call it “creativity.”
Or maybe it’s down to the city’s unofficial motto: “London: The City Too Busy To Do Laundry.” So just wear whatever smells least like stale sweat and spilled beer. Even if that means donning a sombrero and flippers.
Eric Rychnausky, head mixologist at The Stafford London, divulges his secrets for a trio of truth serums created especially for the Spring.
With 50 years experience in the film industry, John Richardson makes movie magic look as simple as a wave of the wand. He served as special effects supervisor on all eight Harry Potter films and also worked on such iconic film franchises as the James Bond movies, Superman, and Alien, for which he won an Academy Award in 1986.
Recently, he paused for a chat on Platform 9 3/4, the latest Harry Potter set to be installed at Warner Bros. Studio Tour London. The new addition, which features the original Hogwarts Express steam train, opens March 19.
Richardson talks about making wizards fly, the pitfalls of computer generated effects, and the one item he most wishes he could’ve taken home from the set. Watch our interview on YouTube here:
To see my interview with Mark Williams, who played Mr. Weasley, click here: http://amylaughinghouse.com/?p=4163
For more on the Harry Potter Warner Bros. Studio Tour London, click here: http://amylaughinghouse.com/?p=770
Pack your trunks. Round up your rats, and get ready for a new wand-waggling adventure. On March 19, 2015, Harry Potter’s own Hogwarts Express steams onto a resurrected Platform 9 3/4 at the Warner Bros. Studio Tour London.
I had a track-side chat with Mark Williams, a.k.a. Mr. Weasley, about movies, memories and magic.
For more info on the Warner Bros. Studio Tour London and “The Making of Harry Potter” experience, check out my story: http://amylaughinghouse.com/?p=770
LEAVESDEN, ENGLAND: I’m whizzing over the Thames, the wind in my face, so close that I can dip my hands in the water. Then suddenly, not of my own volition, I’m soaring heavenwards, only to rocket back down to earth moments later, dodging cars and buses on London’s busy streets. Oh, and did I mention, I’m riding a broom?
Boarding a bucking Nimbus 2000 in front of a special effects green screen is just one of the hands (or in this case, bottoms) on attractions at the “Warner Bros. Studio Tour London: The Making of Harry Potter” experience in Leavesden, 20 miles northwest of London.
Unlike the The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando, Florida, the U.K. doesn’t feature theme park rides like roller coasters.
Instead, Leavesden offers a true behind-the-scenes look at the Harry Potter movies, which were primarily shot on a soundstage next door.
It embraces 170,000 square feet of space bursting with the actual sets, costumes, props and magical machines, including the original Hogwarts Express steam engine, parked alongside a recreated Platform 9 3/4.
Great news for thirsty Londoners. This Sunday, 22 February, you can sample more than 530 beers from 80 breweries at one location.
Okay, so it might be physically impossible (and certainly inadvisable) to try ALL of those beers, but the Craft Beer Rising Festival at the Old Truman Brewery in Shoreditch offers the opportunity to wobble among a wide variety of stalls serving up lip-smacking suds from as far away as Mexico and as close as London itself.
You can also groove to tunes in the Music Room, nosh on street food like incendiary-sounding chorizo bombs, smoked BBQ and schnitzel, and check out the latest industry innovations.
Tickets are available from £17, including a £5 beer token, a choice of glassware, and a token.
It was an honor and a privilege (and a heck of a lot of fun) chatting with Peter Greenberg yesterday about my favorite walking tours of London.
This globe-trotting legend and his crew produce a Worldwide Podcast airing from a different location every weekend, in between Peter’s duties as Travel Editor of CBS News and his television appearances.
I’ll let you know when our most recent interview will air. In the meantime, you can check out my last chat with Peter, touching on everything from Scotch whisky to the “F” word. (That would be “fanny,” folks. Be forewarned; it means something very different in Britain than it does in the US!)
That interview starts at 38:30 here:
For more expert travel revelations from around the world, subscribe to Peter’s podcasts here:
For more on London’s top five walking tours, check out my article on LonelyPlanet.com:
From “Prêt-à-Portea” repasts offering catwalk-worthy cakes to, well, cakes with cats, London is reinventing this traditional culinary indulgence.
So forget stuffed shirts and raised pinkies. Today’s teas feature everything from fishnet stockings to whisky and gin. (And suddenly, your boyfriend is expressing an unprecedented interest in copping a cuppa, am I right?)
Here’s a taste of what’s brewing around the city. Read more: London’s New Twists on Afternoon Tea
This year, as England commemorates the 50th anniversary of his death, a host of new exhibitions prove his droll prophecy has held true.
Key sites around the country form what might be dubbed “the Churchill trail.” From his labyrinthine War Rooms to the baroque palace where he was born, visitors can take a closer look at the legacy of one of Great Britain’s most revered statesmen—and perhaps still catch an ethereal whiff of his cigar. Read more: On the Trail of Winston Churchill
It’s the suitcases that finally reduce me to tears. A pile of suitcases behind a glass wall in one of the endless cell blocks at Auschwitz. Each is carefully labeled in bold letters with a name—the names of men, women and children who probably thought that they had already experienced the worst that life could deal them, being forcibly relocated from their home.
“Jews were told they were going for resettlement in the East,” explains my guide, Dagmara Wiercinska. They couldn’t have imagined the horrors that awaited them here, about 40 miles west of Krakow, Poland.
I’ve already seen too much. Touring block upon block, Dagmara has explained how Holocaust prisoners here were treated like commodities. Whatever few possessions they brought with them—things they thought they would need to build a new life—were taken from them upon their arrival and stored in warehouses which guards called “Canada,” because that was viewed as a place of enormous wealth. What remains here now are those items that the Nazis had not yet sold when Auschwitz was finally liberated on January 27, 1945.Read more: Auschwitz-Birkenhau: 70 Years after the Liberation
This New Year, resolve NOT to resolve. Beer and chocolate can be good for you, and there’s no better place to start your “health” regime than Bruges.
The first meal of the day typically consists of a giant waffle served with a pitcher of chocolate sauce and gobs of whipped cream—and that’s just a warm-up.
Chocolate shops and beer halls vie for space along virtually every cobblestone block and market square in this impeccably preserved medieval Belgian town, tantalizing tourists with scented tendrils of cocoa and hops that waft into the streets, playing tug of war with your taste buds.
Resistance is futile, but here’s the good news. You needn’t bother trying.
According to the locals, chocolate and beer can actually be good for you…when consumed in moderation, of course.Read more: Welcome to Bruges, Where Beer & Chocolate Are Good For You
I’m not even halfway up Gros Piton, the taller of St. Lucia’s signature twin peaks, and I’m already starting to perspire from places where I didn’t even know I had pores. My shins. My elbows. My earlobes.
It’s an inauspicious start to what I’ve dubbed my “Surf and Turf” tour of St. Lucia, a lush 238-square-mile isle in the West Indies’ Lesser Antilles. Over the course of a week, I plan to scale the 2,619-foot summit of Gros Piton, scuba dive along the coral reefs, and horseback ride through the waves. But at this moment, my body is screaming, “Abort! Abort!”
“Please tell me this is the steep part,” I gasp, scrambling up yet another massive pile of rocks behind my guide, Chad William, a lean, taciturn man with a sparse, bushy beard. “If not, just lie to me, man,” I implore him. “Keep hope alive.”
Hailing from the tiny village of Fond Gens Libres, founded at the foot of the mountain by freed slaves more than 200 years ago, William hardly breaks a sweat as he negotiates the trail, which was carved centuries ago by villagers seeking high ground as the invading British threatened to capture and re-enslave them.
But it’s not just the mountain’s historical relevance that has brought me here today. It’s the promise of unparalleled panoramas. Read more: A Surf and Turf Eco-Adventure Tour of St. Lucia
“Berlin is not Germany. It’s a very important sentence. Berlin was always something special.”
Christian Tanzler would know. Although he’s a spokesperson for Visit Berlin, Tanzler isn’t just a media mercenary hired to promote the city, which recently celebrated 25 years since the fall of the infamous Berlin Wall. He’s one of the many whose family was torn apart by those cruel miles of concrete erected in the 60s. But even during those darkest days, Tanzler says, Berlin’s denizens on both sides of the wall harboured a rebellious, irrepressible spark.
Bogie and Bacall. Gin and tonic. Cuddly kittens and viral videos. There are some things that seemingly couldn’t—or at least, shouldn’t–exist without the other.
Add to the list one more match made in heaven…or, more specifically, in East London: Scotch and Scottish smoked salmon, as demonstrated by last night’s celebrated pairings of Glenfiddich and fruits of the sea at H. Forman & Son.
Located on the aptly named Fish Island in Stratford, H. Forman & Son features an on-site smokery, a restaurant and bar, art gallery, hospitality venue, and the Forman & Field artisan foodstuffs venture, delivering goodies right to your door.
According to London Mayor Boris Johnson, as renowned for his off-the-cuff quotes as his unruly thatch of hair, “Forman’s is not just a smokehouse. It’s a salmon theme park!” (Never change, Boris. Never change).Read more: Scotch & Smoked Salmon: A Match Made in…East London
I’m cringing on the edge of a tiny wooden platform less than one meter square, contemplating a leap from the equivalent of a three-storey building.
I’m not suicidal, only slightly insane. In theory, you see, the cable that a fresh-faced young lad strapped to my harness will allow me to make a controlled, but nonetheless stomach-churning, descent into the abyss.
The “Skydive,” one of the most popular attractions at Landmark Forest Adventure Park in Carrbridge, Scotland, didn’t look so high from the ground.
But as I stand frozen to my perch, where I’m treated to a bird’s eye view of energy-sapping pursuits guaranteed to exhaust even the most hyperactive children and their parents (a rock-climbing pillar, water slides, mini-racetrack and the like), I’m beginning to regret the black pudding I had for breakfast.
I’m not talking about the usual colicky infant (at least one guaranteed on every flight, or your money back), nor the chatty, close-talking seat mate whose entire diet, from the time he was first able to digest solid food, has consisted solely of raw onions and three-day old fish. I’m not even referring to the inconsiderate oaf who reclines his seat so far into your lap that you’re forced to eat your dinner off a tray on his forehead.
No. This was one of the biggies, one of those life-flashing-before-your-eyes moments that makes you wish you had put down your magazine, wrenched the ear phones blasting LMFAO’s “Sorry for Party Rocking” from your waxy canals, and listened to the safety announcements featuring cartoon characters demonstrating the technological complexities and mind-boggling intricacies of the aircraft, such as how a seat belt is not only fastened, but…whoa, duuuuuude!…unfastened. (One can only imagine that if Charles “Survival of the Fittest” Darwin had been called upon to compose those scripts, they would be considerably more concise).
In short (or rather, in long-winded, round-the-houses-on-a-rusty-bicycle-with-a-slowly-deflating-tire essence), the oxygen masks deployed…about three hours into a trans-Atlantic flight to London, over the dark, fathomless depths of the ocean.Read more: Ever Wondered How You Would React in an Airline Emergency? Now I Know.
Now I know what it feels like to be a penguin swaddled in a girdle…not that I had given it much thought before. But as I waddle into the cool shallows of Lamlash Bay on Scotland’s Isle of Arran, lumpily sheathed in neoprene and dragging my bright red kayak behind me, I feel as awkward as that klutzy, egg-shaped comic. I’m hoping that when I finally reach deeper waters and launch myself into my craft, I, like the stubby-legged polar bird, will take on some measure of aquatic grace—but in my heart, I know better.
Just as I feel a chilly trickle filling my rubber booties, my jovial guide, Bruce Jolliffe with the Arran Adventure Company, suggests we board our crimson kayaks, and soon we’re gliding across the gunmetal gray bay. Well, my companions may be “gliding,” but my idea of an upper-body workout is brushing my teeth (flossing, too, when I’m feeling particularly hale), and I soon start to feel the burn.Read more: Safari, Scottish-style, on the Isle of Arran
Heading to Reading for the music festival this weekend? Sure, there are plenty of amazing acts lined up, from Queens of the Stone Age to Vampire Weekend and the Arctic Monkeys. But sometimes the most amusing entertainment isn’t on the stage; it’s in the fields around you.
Here’s a peek at some of my favourite examples of Reading Festival freakiness.
“So, are you a Beatles fan?” Normally, this would seem an easy enough question to answer. Sure, I like their music. Yes, I burned through a cassette tape of their greatest hits as a teenager, twisting and shouting as I tootled around town in my second-hand wheels. But when you’re talking to a man who carries a British Beatles Fan Club Card in his wallet, displayed with pride of place in the little plastic window typically reserved for a driver’s license, it comes across as rather a loaded question.
This is Liverpool, after all—the Beatles hometown, a Mecca for Fab Four aficionados—and I’d bet the contents of my own wallet (expired receipts, a few empty gum wrappers, and a video rental card for a chain that’s gone bust) that half the tourists in town are carrying similar Beatles-branded ID.
So if you say, “Yes, I’m a fan,” then you’d better be prepared to go toe-to-toe on band trivia. For instance, did you know that Paul McCartney used to play a right-handed guitar strung left-handed, because it was cheaper–or that George Harrison was actually born on February 24, 1943, NOT February 25, as noted on his birth certificate? Nope, me neither.
Beatlemania reaches epidemic levels in the city every August during International Beatleweek, when fans from across the universe—or at least around the world—come together for exhibitions, memorabilia sales, guest speakers and live music by Beatles tribute bands.
If you’ve got the Beatles’ bug, read on for a list of five fabulous attractions you can rock up to year round.Read more: Beatles Fans Come Together in Liverpool
There may be only one place on the planet where you can find ancient French tapestries, intricately carved African fertility statues, a moth-eaten orangutan and a copy of Barry Manilow’s “Paradise Cafe” (on vinyl, no less). With a selection of antiques even the Smithsonian might envy, France’s Marché aux Puces de Paris/St-Ouen beckons bargain hunters, interior decorators, and the just plain curious.
Widely considered to be one of the largest antiques and second-hand markets in the world, the marché embraces more than 1,700 stalls sprawled over 10 hectares in Paris’ 18th arrondissement.
Flea market aficionados flock here to snap up deals on everything from silverplate to crystal balls to 17th-century suits of armor.
Need a medieval crown from the South of France? Chances are, they’ve got that, too.
Even if your expense account doesn’t cover jewel-encrusted headgear, it’s an amusing way to spend an afternoon.
Lose yourself in the labyrinthine alleyways and simply soak up the atmosphere as you browse for deals on some of the strangest stuff to ever clog a closet.Read more: For Weird Souvenirs, You Can’t Beat Paris’ Super-Sized Marché aux Puces
“Caution! Fast Rising Tides! Hidden Channels! Quicksand!” The simple white sign, with its bold black lettering, seems oddly out of place posted along the Victorian-era Promenade of Grange-Over-Sands, a sleepy seaside town on the southern border of England’s Lake District National Park. While the warnings might evoke the sinister setting of an Indiana Jones action flick, the broad paved path which skirts the grassy marshland of Morecambe Bay would appear to provide the perfect family day out.
There’s a little girl with blonde pigtails wobbling along on her Pepto-pink bike, pint-sized roller-bladers as padded against bumps and bruises as the Michelin Man, and proud parents pushing prams plumped with mewling babies. With all the lolling-tongued canines straining at their leashes, there might, admittedly, be a slight risk of stepping in a steaming pile of unpleasantness—although with plaques threatening £1000 fines for “non-removal” of dog droppings (illustrated by a stooping stick figure with a shovel poised beneath his pup’s pert behind), I would wager that is unlikely.
Yet as I discover on a seven-day walking tour with English Lakeland Ramblers, during which we’ll meander nearly 40 miles on foot through the southern part of the rural county of Cumbria, the Lake District isn’t as blissfully serene as it might seem on its surface. Read more: Wading Through the Lake District: Bring Your Hiking Boots—and Maybe Your Flippers
A flock of photographers, myself among them, is gathered on the roof of the Queen of Hoxton pub in London’s hipster Valhalla of Shoreditch. As each of us elbows for a better angle—now on one knee, then doubling-back for a view from behind–you might well wonder what could inspire such a frenzy among snap-happy paps. Kim and Kanye? Brangelina? Britney Spears gone commando again?
As it transpires, the object—or rather, objects—of our intense interest are a bevy of wine bottles and a table topped with delectable looking platters.
No one cares that the feast has gone cold. We know chef Daniel Ashley will be providing plenty more plates later on, all washed down with a tipple (or ten) of Rosé d’Anjou Loire Valley wines.
For the moment, however, our focus (ahem) is on a food photography tutorial. Our host Douglas Blyde, himself a writer and sommelier, has invited Paul Winch-Furness, one of London’s most sought after food photographers, to share his tips with us this evening.
Douglas Blyde–food writer, photographer, sommelier, and professional bon vivant—demystifies (and amuses) with his tips on the proper way to taste wine.
Every May, thousands of spectators gather alongside a steep and daunting slope in Gloucestershire, England to watch competitors from across the globe battle to become the big cheese. Or rather, to try to win it.
In an event dating back to the 1800s, hapless participants, outfitted in everything from Spiderman suits to Borat-style “mankinis,” run and tumble head-over-heels down the 650-foot-long Cooper’s Hill after an 8-pound wheel of Double Gloucestershire. The first to reach the bottom takes home the cheese. Runners-up (or rather, other rollers-down) go home with bruised pride—and the occasional broken bone.
This year’s event, held on May 26, drew an estimated 5,000 people, with some hailing from as far away as Australia. There were four downhill races, interspersed with presumably less perilous uphill races for children.
There has been no “official” event since 2009, due to health and safety concerns (high-cholesterol and lactose-intolerance being the least of them.) But that hasn’t deterred dairy-devils from turning up to spin the wheel.
In 2013, when police ordered the usual supplier to withhold her cheese, a plastic version was drafted as a substitute, and races commenced as usual at midday.
In Britain, that’s just how rebels roll.
For photos and a detailed account of this year’s winners, visit www.cheese-rolling.co.uk/index1.htm.
It’s a blazing, blue sky day in London, and I’m hanging on for dear life inside a speedboat that’s whipping the Thames into a rabid froth. If both my hands weren’t locked in a death grip on the metal bar in front of me, I could easily dip my fingers into the water, which spritzes me and my fellow passengers like a well-shaken bottle of celebratory champagne.
This certainly isn’t your typical pleasure cruise. It’s the Thames as only London RIB Voyages offers it up—a wet and wild white-knuckle tour that tackles the river at 35 miles per hour, leaving passengers as giddy as kids on a roller coaster.Read more: Get Wet and Wild on the Thames
As the French Riviera celebrates the 67th annual Cannes Film Festival, fasten your seat belts for a whirlwind ride along the Cote d’Azur.
“Belle! Belle!” a man calls out from a corner café as I round a bend in my 1956 Porsche 356 Speedster. Whether his hoot of approval and accompanying wolf whistle are for me or, more likely, for my rented wheels hardly matters. With the top down and the sunshine of the French Riviera casting a golden glow across the landscape, I’m smiling ear-to-ear either way.
I only hope I’m out of sight when I stall the car on a slope, the gears grinding and growling like an angry grizzly as I try to cajole the temperamental stick shift back into first.
Never mind. I’m going to enjoy my movie star moment, ensconced in a red bucket leather seat as I clear the coast and head into the pine-scented hills.
This is silver screen country, after all, where dozens of seminal films have been shot since the 1950s.
My hired ride from Rent a Classic Car is the same model favored by James Dean, and my hair is pulled back into a wind-defying blonde bun, a la Grace Kelly. All that’s missing from this picture is Cary Grant…and a snazzy score by Henry Mancini to drown out the carnage I’m inflicting on the motor.
Cruising in a vintage car is the perfect complement to my cinematic tour of the Cote d’Azur, which will take me from Cannes to the ridiculously picturesque mountaintop village of Eze, with stops in Antibes, St. Paul de Vence, Nice, and Villefranche-sur-Mer along the way.Read more: A Film-Themed Tour of the Cote d’Azur
From phallic signposts to quirky personal hygiene, here are five facts which your high school textbook never revealed…
Unless you’ve been living under a rock (volcanic or otherwise), you will have certainly heard of Pompeii.
I’m referring not to the widely-panned recent film release, which even the actors probably hope you’ll soon forget, but to the ill-fated Italian city which was covered with up to 20 feet of ash and pumice when Mt. Vesuvius blew its lid in 79 AD. An estimated 16,000 people died in the cataclysmic eruption.
Every year, 2.5 million tourists make the pilgrimage to walk among the ruins north of Naples.
Last week, I joined the throngs, treading the same cobbled streets as this city’s ancient denizens, touching the two-thousand year-old bricks and marveling at the wealth of recovered artifacts, including casts of many of the volcano’s victims, frozen in time as they drew their last breaths.
The man who really made the city come to life for me was my guide, Salvatore Spano, who has been leading tours of Pompeii for 42 of his 66 years.
He’s a walking Wikipedia, a master of historical minutia, but I’ve boiled down his wealth of knowledge to a wee list of “Top Five Entertaining Facts,” which you can whip out at your next cocktail party to amaze and delight your friends…or bore them into a hasty retreat if they overstay their welcome and threaten to empty your liquor cabinet.
I’ll let you be the judge.Read more: Five Facts You Never Knew About Pompeii