In dire need of ice cream, I slunk out of the flat at 8pm, almost took a wrong turn and fell 21 floors to my certain doom, but luckily checked myself before I wrecked myself, and took the lift down instead. Then I walked up South Bridge Road to Adler’s, a hostel in the middle of Chinatown.
Continue reading “Adler’s Hostel”
This lunchtime, caught in a sudden shower and not keen to go far, I ran across the street to Gaest, a Norweigan csfe squeezed into a small gap in the bottom of an office building. I’ve never thought of Norway as being famous for food (apart from pickled herring) so I was curious as to what I’d be able to eat.
Continue reading “Gaest”
It took me almost four entire days from arriving in New York before I finally got tacos. After an abortive attempt to visit friends in New Jersey, where the culinary highlight of hanging around the Port Imperial ferry terminal was eating a Mrs Fields cookie, I was seriously hungry, so when we arrived at Empellon Tacqueria I could have eaten a piñata.
I almost missed the restaurant though, thinking the signboard outside that declared ‘Hora De Amigos” was the name of the place, rather than the time. Close shaves, and all that.
Continue reading “Empellon Tacqueria”
This afternoon we had ice cream at Odd Fellows, I had the sprinkles flavour, which is sugary multicoloured sprinkles in sugar, in a sugar cone. It was great. They gave me a badge and everything.
The main event for today though was Feast, a restaurant down on 3rd avenue, run by hipsters (as is everything these days) and specialising in a pork feast. Which sounded to me like a euphemism, but is a six course array of pig-based products.
Continue reading “Feast (it’s all made of pork)”
The Comfort Diner is down on 45th street, a few minutes’ walk from our hotel and, rather than spend $34 each on a buffet of unknown size and quality, we visited the Comfort Diner to get a proper idea of the world.
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Despite feeling perky at Seattle, after a smooth flight over the Pacific, I still couldn’t keep my eyes open on the flight across to New York, and although they served a meal, it was almost entirely unmemorable. It involved quinoa. At least that was vegetarian, whereas on the Hong Kong-Seattle flight all I got from my Gold status and a request made three months in advance for a vegetarian meal was an omelette with a diminutive pork sausage in it, small enough to offend anyone who wanted a pork-based product, large enough to offend anyone who didn’t want one, the perfect storm of breakfast failure.
But let’s not dwell on that.
Continue reading “Worldbean, JFK baggage reclaim, terminal 2”
Damn, it’s good to be a frequent flyer. All that travelling on Delta last year finally paid off with Gold status, and Delta’s partnership with Virgin Atlantic means that at Hong Kong, after a sleepless night flight, itself following an endless trek around Changi airport for dinner, I got to sit in a pleasant space while nice people continually bring me food and drinks. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be embarrassed.
Continue reading “Virgin Clubhouse, Hong Kong International”