Most visitors to London make a beeline for Buckingham Palace, but down a non-descript road seven miles to the east, there lies another famous royal palace cleverly disguised within a handful of old warehouses squatting upon a gray asphalt lot. One can only conjecture about what intrigues take place at Queen Elizabeth’s gilded residences, but the treachery and sexual exploits that occur within these walls are laid bare every week for television audiences. I’m referring, of course, to the E! hit series “The Royals,” starring Elizabeth Hurley, which returns with its third season on December 4.
Left to right: William Moseley as Prince Liam, Elizabeth Hurley as Queen Helena, Tom Austen as bodyguard Jasper, and Alexandra Park as Princess Eleanor. Courtesy E!
Show creator Mark Schwahn, clad in a gray T-shirt and slacks, brown suede jacket and lace-up boots, is leading a bevy of reporters on a behind-the-scenes tour of the set, which encompasses four sound stages. “We try to use as much of the lot as possible,” he explains, bounding down an alleyway that has featured in a paparazzi chase scene and as the exterior of both a pet clinic and London’s Natural History Museum. (more…)
Hit the Hungarian Capital for Hip Bars, Coffee House Culture and Michelin-Starred Cuisine
Koleves ruin bar. If Gilligan’s Island had a bar…
THE RUIN BAR SCENE
Two girls nestle inside a rusting bathtub, each languidly puffing on a hookah like the louche, heavy-lidded caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. A six-foot tall green rabbit squats at the entrance of their ramshackle den, a figment of a fever dream conjured into concrete form, while a child’s rocking horse dangles upside down from the ceiling, impassively surveying the scene through black button eyes.
Um, you see that rabbit, too? Right? RIGHT?
Deeper in the heart of this graffiti-splattered cavern, half-a-dozen hipsters crowd into a defunct car retrofitted with wooden benches, Beverly Hillbillies-style, and a young woman dances with an inflatable doll beneath the rainbow glow of Christmas lights. Gradually, the tangle of tattooed limbs blurs into a mind-bending illusion—that of a multitentacled, beer-clutching Kraken grooving to a persuasive techno beat.
Whatever I might have expected from Budapest, I couldn’t have imagined the dystopian utopia of Szimpla Kert. It’s a surreal standout among a warren of “ruin pubs” that transform the Hungarian capital’s Jewish Quarter into a party-hearty hub after dark.
These lively bars—some little more than open-air courtyards strung with hammocks and furnished with old barrels, park benches and even a “shipwrecked” boat—line the roads and fill the courtyards of buildings that lay neglected long after World War II.
Don’t rock the boat at Mika ruin pub.
Now, the neighborhood is a haven for street artists, students and backpackers basking in the hedonistic vibe that pervades former Eastern Bloc cities like Budapest and Prague, which are still reveling in their freedom after casting off the Communist yoke towards the end of the 20th century.
TRADITIONAL BUDAPEST
Some visitors come to Budapest seeking a better understanding of its turbulent history, including its World War II Axis alliance and post-war Soviet rule, which ended in 1989. (more…)
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.
Not quite a unicorn, as he’s missing a horn, but this donkey, resting in the shade at Caneel Bay Resort on St. John, embodies the island’s laid-back spirit.
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.
On St. John, there’s time to relax and unwind with a good book.
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.
St. John encompasses only two actual towns: Coral Bay, a quiet crossroads centered around a harbor where sailboats bob in sapphire-blue waters, and its brasher, bolder sister, Cruz Bay. Yet even Cruz Bay, the main port, hardly signifies as a big city, with free-range hens shepherding their chicks along a spaghetti-like labyrinth of roads.
But don’t imagine for a minute that being swaddled in the bosom of Mother Nature is boring—because this hot mama also knows how to party. I’ve visited more than half a dozen times in ten years, and I’ve always found something new to entertain me.
Read on to discover the best bars, beaches, snorkeling spots, and hotels that St. John has to offer. (more…)
