Meet Joe Black

My 2015 started with a hiatus from blogging, ironically one that was right on the heels of a New Year Resolution to re-fire my efforts and aim for a weekly post. Such a sudden fall from grace was nothing intentional, but the outcome of an encounter with the one person I never wanted to meet...

Meet Joe Black. You know Joe Black from the movie. You love Joe Black for his charm, his charisma, his signature Brad Pitt good looks. You praise Joe Black for the guidance he gave Hopkins, how he led him through life-changing perspective as he came to accept his fate and for the belief he gave us in true love, with Hopkins’ screen daughter.

Joe Black, for me, is something more than all of those things. It’s a story that touched my heart with indelible ink, in the most unexpected fashion. A story that saddened me and filled me with hope, but mostly saddened me with its bittersweet. A story that stayed with me, that represented a future that faces us all and a fear for the fact that is does. A story of death and an end, things I just never gave time to imagine possible. Things I inwardly thought, or hoped, might just skip me by.

Just as Joe Black brought the awareness of a weak heart to Hopkins, my Joe Black brought Cancer to my dad. 

Cancer, the Big C. C for control, confusion and choking.

I’m like most little girls who have the heart of their daddy, from the day they are born - regardless of my growing years, I'm as protective of he as he is of me. My dad is age-agnostic, he knows no troubles and he is the only man that always has the answers and whose answer I trust and live to.

Joe Black brought my life to a standstill. And that New Year resolution to blog, that was the least of my problems. I had just landed in Manila and checked in to the most luxurious upgrade suite in the Shangri-La and a bath tub that overlooked the lights of the city. Blogging that, on this occasion, couldn’t have been further from my mind.

8 hour gap in time zone, thousands of miles from home, laden with jet lag and in need of a shower, I got the phone-call. My dad. My dad with Cancer. Silence.

Silence was shock. Shock that quickly became sadness and immediately became panic. My dad can’t have Cancer – he doesn’t get sick, I’m too far away, for one thing. If my dad is going to get Cancer, then it has to be when I am there, so I can fix it. And what is he thinking? What if he is scared, or sad, or angry, or in pain? He can’t be any of those things until I am there to fix those, too. I’m the fixer. I can fix this, right?

But Cancer was in control in this game and me, for all my fixing, I was just an onlooker who is powerless. I needed a plan B.

And so it unravels – biopsies, results, consultants, hormone injections, appointments, radiotherapy, hot sweats, tiredness, exhaustion, 37 one-hundred mile round-trips for treatments. 3700 miles of radiotherapy, some in silence, others with smile but never a tear. My dad, he was taking on Joe Black like a superhero.

My superhero powers, however, were dwindling.  We all hear about Cancer, walk for Cancer, have coffee mornings for Cancer. It saddens us but, until that moment it's right on your doorstep, you don't truly understand it. 

A daddy’s girl knows what is really behind the vest, behind the brave smiles and behind the brave words of tolerance. That’s where I struggled most in this battle. Knowing that my dad would have moments alone of fear and worry and sadness, knowing that every 100 mile trip was just another step that we had to take but, in reality, we had no idea what would happen after the 3700 miles completed.  

But this time, we beat Joe Black. We beat Cancer. We think. We hope.

I say hope, because, from the day that Joe Black appears, he never really goes away.

The after effects of radio and chemo and all the medication that is forced through the bodies of our loved ones keeps stripping their energy and should for weeks after you think you have escaped. And every new pain or qualm or minor twinge aches with paranoia that it is something bigger than it feels.

The after effects of Cancer hurts us all. My daddy. My mummy. My sisters. Friends, family, and every other person you quickly hear about that has won and lost the same battle. Cancer is there forever. It changes you forever. It never goes away.

So my Plan B? A little bit of it is this blog. It's taken me time to really process my thoughts, so sharing them makes me feel a little vulnerable. 

My experience, in words and picture free. My hurt, my pain and futile hope, so that any one of the many other people may have to deal with Cancer in the life of a loved one can know that its ok to need help, just as much as the patient does.

My plan B is perspective and a reality check on what really matters most in my life.

My plan B is to make sure I tell the people I love, every single day, that I do love them.

My plan B is to appreciate the people and things that give me true happiness and deprioritise the ‘stuff’ that I thought did.

My plan B is a phone call, regardless of where I am in the world, to my daddy to make sure he is good.

The rest of the plan is still being written. But for now, Joe Black is busy elsewhere. When our time comes to see him, we will be ready with a basketful of the true happiness that he will never taken away.

'Til next time, Pandora 

Discovering Cuba

It's a little out of the blue to launch a blog about Cuba. I mean, it's been a few years since I have been, but it randomly became a topic of convo this week that it triggered some great memories and I figured Cuba was a place that was well overdue some blog attention.

Kind of timely, albeit belated, my Cuba experience was a long time coming and finally happened over a Christmas and New Year. Travelling for Christmas is not something I often do, I'm a traditional girl who likes a family time, but Caribbean sunshine beckoned and off I trekked.

I had had a Cuba calling for years. And a growing desperation to make it there before any political change that would soften embargoes and see the stunning long 50's Cadillacs suddenly queue up at a Golden Arches drive-thru. 

I wanted to see Havana in its time-warped state and understand what that mean to the Cuban people. Of all the cities I have visited, Havana had a charm and heart that I have found only in few others.

Sadly, history and politics has driven a stark juxtaposition of poverty and restriction, just miles from the glam and decadence of the USA. I shall refrain from a position on the political state of the country, but I would share that Cuba is a place your passport needs stamped from and, in time, my American friends will enjoy it, too.

My trip started on the beach at Varadero. Not too much to write home about here - typical all-inclusive resort but , in my view, there are much better beaches to be found elsewhere in the Caribbean. I stayed at the Blau Varadero and, like every hotel on the coast, it came with previous traveller warnings about the quality of food. I didn't see any limitation, not least for a country that has limits on imports and depending on local produce. Plentiful supply and plenty to choose from. Maybe not your Costa del Platter of all things homelike, on the promenade, but that's not what I travel for, anyway.

A break from the beach, I took a trip in-country to local villages and crocodile farms and made a point of experiencing the local 'restaurants', which are no more than a family cooking up a meal served in their backyard or living room. A Spanish speaker, this was as authentic as it could get, a great afternoon of chat and food and outrageous hospitality. My jury is out on crocodile meat though, you may like it more!

My stay in Varadero took in the Christmas period. Hot sunshine and Santa hats a plenty, but great gala evening meals and entertainment to mark the occasion. Particular memories are of Christmas Eve, and a spine tingling rendition of Ave Maria from the top of the ten floor atrium of the hotel with white rose petals tumbling down, as we drank champagne in the bar. That, alone, is probably my single best moment of Varadero.

Havana is a different story. A good few hours transit from Varadero, itself an experience to see empty roads with trucks full of young workers and the plantation fields where fruits is farmed to export.

CityLife is bustling by comparison. You can see the wheelers and dealers, and there are enough here to need to watch your pockets. Fifties Cadillacs, tuk tuks and horses on carts, it really is the step back in time you read and watch on TV.

Buildings are dilapidated and tumbling down. A UNESCO heritage city, there is a slow reformation programme but, in the interim, sad stories of deaths from people living inside, as floors fall on families.

But there is a beauty in the ugliness of the broken bricks. An acceptance. Children play football in the streets. Old men sing on corners. Tourism is maximised with locally made products and tours and rum and showgirls. And it's not cheap. Expect to pay in Havana just as you would anywhere else, that's where politics has this one sewn up.

So you do. Tropicana, with its poor meal quota, is a fifties fest of dancing salsa that feels totally cruise ship. The infamous Buena Vista Social Club doesn't get more authentic than a fan-aired bar, on a Wednesday night. Side streets and plazas, museums and graffiti, crumbling in the ironic safety of an intricate city CCTV network. It all harks back to Castro and control of a city and its people.

And onto my second best memory of Cuba. New Years Eve, back seated with champagne, in a fifties Cadillac celebrating with chime of midnight to a canon ball blast.

If I never go back to Cuba, I will have find memories of the time I spent there. But something tells me it will change before long, and I hope it doesn't commercialise like Hawaii when it does.

Til next time, Pandora

Weekending in London without the Tourist Trap

Weekend two of the New Year and I am still true to my blog-a-week plan. Not only that, I appear to have kicked the year off in such a busy way that I have loads to share - A new house move, first flights of the year and a weekend in London.

London is a frequent haunt for me. I never tire of it, but I usually travel on my own itinerary, which wasn't quite the case this week. 

My first challenge was the psychological acceptance that I would be staying in a hotel not chosen by myself. And I'm pretty passionate about where I stay, boutique over Big Bang, leafy streets over tourist central. Not so this weekend, I was booked into the Strand Palace, iconic in its heyday, I imagine, but too much dated eighties and tired bathrooms for my personal taste. Style was as successful as its service. Best we leave that there, as I did every morning until evening hours, concentrating my weekend on the immediate vicinity.

But, hey, my weekend base is on the Strand. Just how good can you piece together a weekend on the doorstep of Covent Garden, without getting scooped up by the tourist trap?

Well, you can. I have 48 hours and I have more than a few nice tales to tell of places to see and socialise, that doesn't require a ticket from an open top bus for special entry!

Friday evening started with cocktails whilst the reunion gathered pace and, once everyone had arrived and settled, we raised the style stakes in the luxurious Savoy.

The Beaufort Bar is reserved, but relaxing. I might question the friendliness of every waiting staff but, in the main they were pleasant and helpful. Surroundings are so important to a night out and at the Beaufort it is opulence from ceiling to floor with black and gold interiors and a cocktail list that is as mysterious to finger through. We were a fairly traditional table with Cosmos and Espresso Martinis, and a very fun negroni by the evening end. My greatest love was the stemware, as languid and long as the wonderful drinks and a great end to post-travel Friday.

Saturday morning started with a little shopping along Long Acre, followed by an eager afternoon of relaxation and Afternoon Tea at the Me London. Served in the Marconi lounge, low lighting and mellow beats and surrounded in candlelight the service was sublime. Afternoon tea was served in gold and white Jasper Conran China, with quirky London landmark plates for your goodies soon to be served on individual three tiers. Yes, one each!

Bar a heavy rye bread on salmon sandwich, the rest was divine and we had no rush to eat up and go. Laid back champagne on tap and beautiful sweets and treats, just four girls...perfect! Me London typically has London landmark patisserie for their Tea. Oddly we were still on their festive menu, albeit Jan 9, but delicious nonetheless and the leftovers boxed up for some tea a little later at the hotel.

One negative, Marconi lounge had no facilities for baby changing. A surprise. But more concerning that staff advised you to change bubba on the floor of the disabled loo. I'm sure they must have elsewhere in the hotel, and that should have been the response.

Saturday evening was spent at one of my favourite London eateries, before it leaves the city this month. St Martin Lane's Asia de Cuba will close in a few weeks for a new restaurant to be launched, and I wanted to get my friends the experience before it does. It didn't disappoint - 6 starters and mains of signature dishes, three fabulous desserts to share for 7, all for under £550

Post dinner drinks stayed local at Light Bar and a night of great nineties dance music. Again, Light Bar will close for a new era, it was great to have a final fling!

Sunday morning I headed, solo, to explore the great feedback I had heard on the new Ivy Market Grill, sister restaurant of The Ivy. Bang on the border of the Piazza, but this is not tourist trap. Food is great, interiors are very Art Deco and I couldn't help compare it to neighbouring Balthazar which underwhelmed me. Ivy Market Grill is definitely one to add to your little black books for London, and I imagine dinner is as great as my truffled eggs breakfast!

Food was firmly the agenda this weekend, and lunch on Sunday went Mediterranean with a visit to the amazing Polpo, also in Covent Garden. So eagerly priced for such authentic seafood and Italian taste.

Move over Shake Shacks and be sure to make your tourist area dining more taste and less Punch and Judy.

Next week will be Ireland based Belfast to Dublin. 

Til next time, Pandora.

The 52 Week Blog Challenge

Here we go. Where no honest maker of New Year's Resolutions can afford not to go...not later than January 5th, anyway, anything later counts as a resolution fail, right?

Here we go, then. Back to my blog. 

I say that like it's a chore, but it's really not. It's a relief, in fact, to have made this New Year commitment, so I can force myself to carve out time to do the things I enjoy most. A luxury I didn't give myself in 2014, and one that categorically will change in 2015.

Where do I start? Ironically my last blog entry in June (you see? June!) wagered excitement on my imminent new house build, my chance to turn hotel living into my home. The irony is that in two days from now that will, in fact, only actually happen. 

8 months of architect and design delays, however frustrating they have been, have been used wisely. I found my calling in interiors, invested months in design prep, but I won't launch into interior design blog boredom just yet, you will get plenty of that as the weeks progress!

New Year feels like a fitting time to restart the blog. It might even get a face lift as the weeks progress but, for now, new year reflection and planning around life has allowed me to think where my blog might be headed in 2015, as it gets my time back.

What started out as random musings of the world around me, as I travelled, kind of focussed more on travel and hotels in its more recent times. In between that, I've also dived into the world of social media, which I find fascinating, and which allows me to snapshot thoughts in 140 characters or a phone photo, a pace that fits much more easily into what has been another busy year in the skies.

And there lies the challenge. Time. 

A grand tally of 116 flights, touching 15 cities, made up my passport stamps in the last 12 months alone. The busy side of life will unlikely change, it is what it is. But the balance of it with the richer parts of life is the stall that I'm setting out for the next 12 months.

2014 has been a mixed bag of losses and loves, a new beautiful nephew that fills everyday with joy and the challenges of wicked cancer in my family circle. But I'm definitely a glass half full kind of girl and, looking forwards to 2015, my blog will be designed to keep true my resolution. A weekly download of what's gone on, wherever I might be. Family, friends and health and happiness. And of course, a new house.

Stay connected, come join the fun on twitter and instagram, but expect a varied log of my next 52 weeks whereabouts on the blog.

'Til next time, Pandora.

Hotel to Home - How a life of travel influences your home designs

It's been a few weeks since I have had time to sit down and gather my thoughts, never mind share them with the blogosphere. My usual travel mania has had a lull but, controversially, instead of finding free time, I have been more than occupied by interior designs for my new house.

It doesn't get more exciting than that, starting from scratch with a new build under the directive of an architect. I'm not sure if I've found my true vocation in life, or I'm just enjoying time on terra firma to dedicate to a new interest, but my last eight weeks have been (obsessively) invested in design, from bricks to blankets, of a new home.

There's no doubt that my love of design and interiors is probably the output of a life of hotel living. 

It would be difficult not to be influenced - such frequent stays away from home, I'm not one for budget, or large hotel chains. 

I seek out the perfect boutique or hip hotel in whichever city I am sleeping in that night, definitely have a penchant for the Design Hotels portfolio, although a few of my favourites for style and design, in recent months include the uber trendy Ace Hotel and Town Hall Hotel in East London and the hi tech Eccleston Square, Gastwerk in Hamburg and Das Stue in Berlin, the eclectic Fontecruz in Lisbon and the very sleek Vdara in Las Vegas...

My lust list of favourites all boast similar traits and trends - loft living, retro furniture, style conscious statements and a luxury that is more about slick design than fussy over-decorated decadence. 

But it's not a replica hotel room that I want to create for my home, a ubiquitous life sleeping in different beds and cities is one thing but it also makes you think differently about how you feel about and what you want from home.

Home is my base. My comfort spot. A place for downtime from a busy life, an escape from suitcases and 3fl oz grooming, and time for family and friends. 

I'm far from a traditionalist. I want home to surround me in my favourite things and a luxury that is more grown up and has learned from my travels around the world. 

For me, designing my home is about fashion, rather than a trend. I adore the different style of so many wonderful hotels and can take inspiration from my favourite parts, rather than carbon copy. 

Polished flooring of the Mediterranean, sharp lines of Italian design, oversized headboards and art, crisp white linens, statement items of furniture and accessories, jaw dropping lighting and a subtle palette of nudes.

...put like this, it might read like an ideal boutique hotel, but turning a trend into something fashionable and more timeless is about the finishing touches of personalisation. 

I pick up furniture and accessories on my travels, capture images of my favourite places - my home is designed to tell story, personal to me, of the many miles I've travelled and gather the best of the stunning surroundings I am so blessed to experience, indoors and outdoors.

Maybe, when it's all complete, I will yearn for home more than I yearn for the skies. Who knows, maybe this will be the one hotel I look forward to checking into and spending most time in...

'Til next time, Pandora

Photos and hotels featured: Eccleston Square Hotel, Town Hall Hotel, The Manor Hotel by Laura Ashley, Morton Hotel.

The Lough of the Irish - a stunning weekend break at Lough Eske Castle

The welcome of a new puppy, last year, put a new angle on my local travel around Ireland and I quickly became focused on the pet-friendly locations to visit on four legs, as well as two.

Lough Eske Castle, in Donegal, was a name to quickly join my list, highly recommended by fellow dog owners. Intrinsically challenged with the luxury of time, I booked well ahead to ensure I could get a visit into my diary and, when it came around in March, I ventured off for the weekend.

The drive to Donegal is a long one but, once at Balleybofey in Ireland, it is a pretty one of rolling hills and amazing landscape. 

Just a few miles before Donegal Town the signage for Lough Eske is easy to navigate. 

Unlike my prior visits to Donegal, in search of beach, this trip took me through woodland drives and onto the impressive driveway of the castle itself.

Dating back to the 1400s, the castle has undergone a few rebuilds following it's prior destruction. A single stone of history remains from the 1600s but the main body has been built some 200 years later and, today, has been fully expanded and modernised with new annexes and accommodations. 

Interiors are respectful to history, grand and regal with lots of chesterfield leathers and luxurious drapes. The first thing you notice are the smiles. 

The service is second to none, genuinely helpful from the moment to you check in through every touch point before you, regrettably, check out.

Pet-friendly rooms are conveniently located in the sculpture filled gardens. The suites are huge, beautifully appointed - a large living area with TV, lounge sofas and gas fire sit before a fabulous four poster bed area and lead to a walk-in dressing area and large double bathroom.

Puppy bedding and bowls are left for convenience, and large double doors mean easy access for walks and breaks. 

Directly opposite the garden suites is the spa, perfectly located to wrap up in the fluffy robes and take a few hours downtime to yourself in the hydrotherapy pool or a relaxing treatment. 

The hotel also boasts two mapped walks for guests, woodland and lough side, that will easily eat up 2-3 hours of an afternoon in fresh air and have you ready to tuck into an amazing meal, back at base.

Dining doesn't disappoint in the beautiful Cedars restaurant. Food is sublime, service just a great. I had seafood chowder, a starter that could have served in size as my only meal that night, but I followed it with chargrilled chicken and an amazing dessert of rhubarb creme brûlée. So good, I asked chef to cook some more for the puppy, who dined just as well as I did back, fireside, in our amazing garden suite.

An amazing stay, that by far exceeded my expectations and a place I will undoubtedly return to, hopefully in the very near future.

Falling in Luxe with Lisbon

It's only a few months since I made my first venture to Lisbon, and it was instant love. I vowed to go back and I have although, business being business, I have yet to find the long awaited time to hit the winding hills and streets with my camera and go tourist.

Nevertheless, in some half dozen visits, I have crossed most of the city from Bairro Alto to Parque das Nações and, in between, I've managed to uncover a labyrinth of luxury that has taken my first love to a long term affair with Lisbon luxe.

So good are the choice hotels, such incredible value for the very high standards, I thought it timely to share my best in the hope that you, too, visit the city.

My number one slot goes to my most recent rendez vous, so good I returned twice in the same week. Fontecruz hotel has prime position in the heart of designer decadence on Avenida da Liberdade. Gucci, Armani, Prada on your doorstop, it offers five star boutique with lushness. 

Rooms sway from dark blacks and greys to bright whites, the bar and restaurant are quirky and eclectic and,although quiet, the restaurant is good and it houses the city's only exclusive Moet and Chandon champagne bar in reception. This is true boutique, and the service is exceptional.

A close second is a new addition to Lisbon's designer boutique scene, The Beautique Hotel on the Praça da Figuiera. Already nominated for European design awards, the hotel oozes style and chic. 

The cocktail bar is like liquid mercury, the same theme threads through every floor and room and your retreat is equipped with state of the art technology and stunning interiors. I've yet to return, it's high on my list.

More traditionally known, impeded maybe a little by location is the iconic brand the Corinthia. 

My treatment here was second to none, as if I were the only guest in the hotel, the to the exquisite service known to the brand. My suite was upgraded, I was delivered fresh fruit and custard tarts, and poured wine. I enjoyed the spa, I slept like a dream and I indulged in ESPa products next day. Located near Lisbon Zoo, it's a little remote from the hubbub of the city, but a great retreat for quiet and rest if that's what you need on your trip. 

Keeping with designer boutique, the Fontana Park has been adopted by the Hilton group, acquired from Design Hotels. Every sleek line and designer detail of the former owners remains and you can expect exemplary service from a great team. What is more is it offers a reasonable rack rate, so some of the finer details of boutique have become more Hilton than haute. Nevertheless, a beautiful hotel that is a good middle ground.

My time in Lisbon is far from over. Between business I'm uncovering restaurants, bars and just about entering the sunshine of Southern Europe. If you're in town, let me know I might even be there discovering something new!

'Til next time, Pandora

On Top of the World - from Taipei 101 to Burj Khalifa

Aim high. An apt motto for someone who spends as much time in the skies as I do, so it's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights.

Flying high is one thing. That has seat belts. Climbing high to the highest towers of the world is another but, you can't rock up to some of the most exciting cities with the most iconic landmarks and not go right to the top, right?

There are a few special highs in my photo book. New York, Empire State and Rockerfeller Tower, both a tourist must-do and both with memory making views over Manhattan.

I thought I'd reached my peak when I got to Taipei 101, all 508 metres of it. Even through the haze of city smog the views at sunset were to die for and, of course, safe in the knowledge that that will not topple over even if an earthquake rumbles below you. Luckily. I didn't have to test that theory.

But the Burj Khlalifa claimed the highest point in the record books, I had to update my highlife. Next chance I had to revisit Dubai, I was on a mission to climb to the top. Except you don't get to the top. It's 828 metres tall, but don't be expecting your Tom Cruise mission impossible moment. 

The highest public platform is in or around the half way mark, 428 metres. There is an outside walkway to look up, that's when you get the dizzy feeling. Look down that's when you lose your breath. Desert as far as the eye can see, surrounding the marvel that is the creation of Dubai. Skyscrapers, shopping malls, the Palm and the almost-there recreation of the World in sand.

Visibility will govern your wow factor. I hit lucky. But, as you come back down to earth, be sure to indulge in the luxury that lines the rest of the Burj. 

I lunched in Armani. The finest seafood, the whitest china, the crispest linens, the loveliest if meals overlooking the Khalifa fountains.

Aim high. It's worth the view.

'Til next time, Pandora

My Ace Night in the Ditch - Ace London, Shoreditch

I consider myself to be relatively on trend. A busy life of travel might keep me out of the heart of the barfly scene, where all the real social moving and shaking goes on, but I'm urban modern at heart and have yet to put my Vogue into the drawer or hang up my party heels.

Every now and again, you get a double dose of cool that makes you realise how far behind you might have dropped but that simultaneously fast tracks you back 'du jour'. Mine happened this week in London. 

My first venture, long overdue, to the rapidly  up and coming hotspot of Shoreditch. My second quick hit happened as soon as I stepped inside the coolest spot in the Ditch of all, The Ace Hotel. 

Where do I start? The door men are adorable. Top hats are replaced by woolly beanies and bow ties and crisp shirts are swapped for grey sweaters and skinny jeans. 

Bicycles hang from the ceiling at reception, lobby seating is communal and set up for wireless living, Mac Book, of course. Music booms loud, lip reading is needed to get you through check in, and reception doubles as a very cool store where you can take your pick from all the very cool things you will find in the hotel and recreate the experience at home.

You escape the noise upstairs. Elevators lead to a warehouse feel of corridors and stairwells. Rooms are crisp and clean loft-style escapes. Hues of blue, on grey and concrete, surrounded with a cornucopia of retro wonders from LP records, tin mugs, radios and record players. A feel of Scandinavia design, in a Manhattan apartment. It's outstanding.

What do you get for your stay and your money? Space, for one, a plus for London at the best of times, optimised with low level beds and high ceilings. Great booze - forget mini sized mini bars, this is stocked to the straps with old school chocolate and gourmet treats and quarter bottle sized spirits. Superb showering, with jumbo sized products from the uber cool ruby .... ( soon to be in my own wet room, I loved these so much).

Downstairs you get ridiculously great cocktails in a super vibe bar. And lots of lounging. Time will fly, it's so laid back. And the people watching? One of the best.

Shuffle through to Hoi polloi (or enter through the flower shop from outside) and you get an outstanding dining experience that should be enjoyed even if you're not a resident. Dress down, in the up way. It's not formal, but it's very trendy, and the only thing more on point than the fashionista diners is the great food.

They say Shorditch is the Chelsea of the East. There's enough well styled, well famed restaurants and eateries to challenge them, maybe too many hipster cafés to meet the designer grades of Sloane, but they are marvellous nonetheless. I have no idea why I harboured a hesitancy to explore here sooner, but I'm an instant convert and will definitely be back to check off the many places that are quickly joining my must do-go-eat-drink list.

'Til next time, Pandora

A First Taste of Berlin

Berlin has been on my wish list of must-see places for some time so, when business opportunity knocked, I was on the first plane to uncover what all of the excitement was about.

This was a short trip, so tourism was not going to have much room on the agenda. But, first impressions count with me, so I would know if this was somewhere worth fussing over to come back and explore more.

I wasn't disappointed. Stereotypical German efficiency kicked in as soon as I landed, I'm really not sure I have ever had such a speedy disembark through immigration and into a taxi, anywhere else. 

The quick cab ride from Tegel airport into the city already had my eyes wide open. 

Berlin was so clean, late night traffic was non existent and I had a clear line of sight of so many iconic landmarks straight off the mark as I drove to Mitte.

My hotel, The Westin Grand, sat steps from the famous Brandenburg Gate. I kind of expected Checkpoint Charlie to have security and graffiti and show its history. But it didn't. Modernised and clean, quiet and overtaken by the stunning and very compelling architecture of the Gate. 

The same view could be seen from my hotel, 5 floors up from the Westin Grand. Itself a historic building, the glass dome that overlooks the lobby is a stunning centre piece and a marvel to look on as you sip cocktails in the bar. 

The hotel boasts a chunk of the Berlin Wall on his doorstep, a sign from times gone by, and an artefact you will find throughout the city.  

Service is efficient, perhaps at the compromise of friendly. Summer allows for al fresco drinks on a rooftop garden terrace but the standard of dining everywhere else, from room service to restaurant, is incredibly good.

Close by, my taste buds were tingled to extreme in Bocca de Bacco, a very stylish Italian I learned was a haunt for the A-list and had served heart throbs such as Clooney, Damond and Pattinson. 

I joined their dining joy, amazing food that exceeded even the temptation of the menu and I highly recommend if you are tourist trekking the neighbourhood over lunch or dinner.

This is a luxury shopping zone, so all your designer needs are more than catered for. I had a brief wander in Alexanderplatz, under the famous TV tower too, whee there was much more movement of tourism buses and camera clicking around. Mostly, it made me so very congnizant of the size of Berlin and the opportunity to uncover so much more.

My true desire is to dig into the back streets, see the urban art rise and the cool trendy bars and boutique hotels. And it won't be long before I do. My first taste of Berlin has left me hungry for much, much more.

'Til next time, Pandora