It’s midnight and it’s a cool, wet Manchester night. A girl in a skin tight, white mini dress follows us as we search for the City Warehouse Apartment Hotel in Manchester’s Northern Quarter. She teeters precariously on killer heels that have clearly become more difficult to walk in after a few drinks.

We scan the deserted street for a hotel type entrance as she passes us and presses a buzzer on an anonymous door. A smart dressed bloke in black opens the door and she enters. He looks at us and smiles.

“Are you my late check-in?”

He ushers us in and directs us to the lift. “There’s a Beyonce concert in Manchester tonight and there will probably be a post show party going on so I’ve stuck you on the top floor.”

With that he leaves us to find our room, wondering whether we’re going to get any sleep. As we open the door to our room/apartment, any concerns are swept away by a ‘well I didn’t expect that’ wave of chic, sleek and super sexy, urban interior design that might just be about the coolest apartment we’ve ever stayed in.

It’s after midnight, most places are shut except a Spar about 10 minutes walk away. The view of the night city outside a wall of floor to ceiling windows is irresistibly seductive. The smoked glass table beside the window looks like it wants our company.

“I guess I’m popping back out for a bottle of wine then,” I say to Andy before turning on my heel and heading back to the city’s streets on a late night quest. Although we’ve got an early train to catch, the apartment is far too nice for just sleeping in.

Buzz Trips View
It’s smack bang in Manchester’s creative Northern Quarter (jazzy sounds from inviting bars accompany you as you find your way there after dark), five minutes from Piccadilly Gardens and about a 15 minute walk to Piccadilly Train Station. All of these make it a great city centre option.

But City Warehouse Apartment Hotel’s big attraction is that the apartments are gorgeous. They are so good that I felt I could quite easily live there, enjoying the vibrancy of one of Britain’s great northern cities from a suitably stylish urban pad.

Apartments

Bedrooms have a tastefully minimalist design with very comfortable beds. Our apartment had two bedrooms, one en suite, and a handy second bathroom.
A large, open living area includes a smart, fully equipped kitchen which would be ideal for dinner parties (not a crazy notion as there might be a temptation not to go out). A smoked glass dining table seats six people and has views out over the city, whilst two long leather sofas set either side of a huge flat screen TV seem perfect for reclining with something long and cool. What that something long and cool consists off depends on your individual situation I suppose. The rooms also have fast wifi so no problem with posting pictures on facebook or Instagram to show your friends how über cool you are.

One of my favourite touches was a small balcony with just enough space for a bleary eyed couple to nurse a warming morning coffee whilst watching the creative part of the city come to life below.

Since staying there we’ve praised it to the high heavens to friends who live in the north west of England. Anyone looking for a base to enjoy a night or two in Manchester would be certifiable if they went anywhere else.

Prices at the City Warehouse Apartment Hotel start from around £55 which is exactly what we paid. It is simply unbelievable value, especially if there are four of you.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to lots of other places. Follow Jack on Google+

“Now it’s your turn to take over the controls.”

There’s one thing screaming about the skies in the virtual safety of a Playstation game, it’s another thing completely when you’re in the domain of the birds clutching at the joystick of an old bi-plane.

As birthday presents go, it had been inspirational. My sister had arranged one of those adventure packages. This one was to fly a Tiger Moth.

The idea of taking to the skies in something made out of wood and wires seemed a potential way to bring my bucket list to a premature and grisly end. As a result I waited almost the full 12 month period on the voucher before plucking up the courage. With time running out I eventually took the plunge and booked the flying lesson.

Preparation
The instructor did his best to make me feel at ease by jokingly that the Tiger Moth was simple to fly as it only had a few controls. As he put it: “There are more instruments in a three piece band.”

That didn’t help. I like instruments and controls and banks of flashing buttons, especially when one of them is labelled ‘ejector seat’.

His second attempt at a nerve-soother was no better.

“This is a really lucky plane,” he cheerily pointed out. “It’s been shot out of the skies or crashed at least three times… and it’s still flying.”

I don’t consider a plane with a record of plummeting to earth particularly blessed with good luck.

My state of mind improved when he handed me a leather jacket and a helmet. I probably looked more Snoopy than Tom Cruise but in my head I was Top Gun.

It was time to get airborne.

Flying a Tiger Moth Plane
Nervous as hell but feeling pretty cool in my flying jacket, I squeezed into the front seat cockpit on an airplane which pre-dated the First World War. The real pilot sitting behind me had that typical pilot’s voice; the sort that you imagine would never get flustered even when the engines fail, the joy stick snaps off in his hand and a distracted pigeon flies straight into the goggles.

Take off wasn’t quite the same as taxiing in a passenger jet to somewhere hot and exotic. The little plane bumped along the ground, bouncing on every divot, with what seemed the acceleration capabilities of a moped.

We hadn’t even reached a speed where I’d have shifted to third gear in my car when the pilot pulled back on the joystick and, by some miracle, the plane actually took to the air.

We’d barely cleared the airfield’s blades of grass when the pilot suggested I take over the controls.

The instructor really hadn’t been joking about the instruments. There was the joystick (more of a metal rod) which was attached to the rudder and the plane flaps by wires that looked as though they once been metal coat hangers. Then there was the speedometer and the fuel gauge. That was it.

Flying the machine was ridiculously simple. You want to go left; you push the joystick to the left. You want to climb; you pull it back and so on. You could throw the joystick around and the Tiger Moth would react in a lovely, calming, leisurely manner as if it had sneaked a spliff beforehand and was in no mood to be rushed. Playstation controls for flying a plane are way, way more sensitive and difficult.

To keep flying straight you line up the point where the wires which connect the wings make an X (conveniently located directly in front of the pilot’s seat) with the horizon. That’s the Tiger Moth’s version of the artificial horizon instrument. It made me wonder how they ever flew at night but, as I was concentrating on not sending us into a tail spin, I didn’t ask.

The Tiger Moth had a top speed of about 80mph (I’d driven faster on the way to the airfield) which to me seemed far too slow to keep something this size in the air. But it actually turned out to be a major plus.

The slow speed made it feel as though I was gliding above the green and pleasant land like a bird rather than in a flying machine. As I relaxed into having control of the plane and banked in long, lazy circles, I took my eyes from the wiry X to watch farmers and their livestock in the fields below.

For a short magical time I was transported to another era; I was Denys Finch Hatton in Out of Africa… even if the location was really more out of Manchester.

You could say the time flew past before the pilot took over the controls again to bring the little plane gently down on to the soft grass.

By that time we taxied to a stop I couldn’t imagine how I could ever have been worried about flying in such a lovely old plane.

A voucher to fly a Tiger Moth at Barton Airfield (City Airport) costs from £155 and is valid for 12 months (although the flying period is April to October).

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites plus lots of other things. Follow Jack on Google+

The Radisson Blu Hotel at London Stansted Airport had a tough job on its hands before we stepped through its revolving door.

Our flight from Tenerife to London landed 45 minutes early – YAY. The time to navigate through  Stansted Airport’s border control took an hour – BOO. When did the UK’s airports turn into Orwellian dystopias anyway?

Although the people at border control were friendly and honest enough (‘we don’t normally do this job’) the fact that the midnight hour had come and gone whilst we were waiting to enter the land of our birth left us on the cranky side. Another queue to check in at the Radisson Blu itself didn’t help the mood.

But then we reached reception and it all changed. A muttered ‘all we’ve done since we’ve touched down is queue,’ was met with a sympathetic smile and the news that our room was upgraded to business class and that breakfast had been thrown in free of charge. Suddenly Britain was all warm and friendly again. Memories of being herded like sheep for an hour receded as we were drawn magnetically to the king of cool wine towers and a fruity glass of French pinot noir which sung ooh la la as it skipped and danced its way down my throat.

The Radisson Blu had banished the dark skies and replaced them with sunshine and smiles.

Buzz Trips View
A few minutes covered walk from the airport, the Radisson Blu Hotel is perfectly positioned for a late night arrival or early departure. With the World Travel Market starting early the following morning we wanted to feel refreshed and ready for action and a night at the Radisson Blu before tackling London’s transport system was the ideal solution. It’s also an ultra stylish introduction to London and, as well as having fashion magazine good looks, is an incredibly comfortable hotel to chill out in.

Wonderfully convenient and a fab place to stay, we liked it so much we considered holing up at the hotel for the week and giving World Travel Market a miss. Highly recommended.

Rooms at Radisson Blu Hotel London Stansted Airport

The rooms at the Radisson Blu Hotel have bags of personality and, like the rest of the hotel, are an aesthetic joy. Little touches like having the bed at an angle combined with groovy seating elevate them into the premier league of business hotels. The beds are comfortable and apart from the usual flat screen TV and mini bar, we had complimentary water, a Nespresso® coffee machine and an iron. Although there is internet access in the rooms its not Wi-Fi. But you can access that at the Angels Wine Tower Bar.

Facilities at Radisson Blu Hotel London Stansted Airport

As well as a business centre with internet, fax and printing facilities there’s also the PACE health club whose pool, gym, sauna and steam rooms are just the ticket for a post business de-stressing workout. Entrance is complimentary for guests.

Staying at the Radisson Blu for one night only meant we didn’t get to try out the Filini Restaurant or the New York Grill Bar. But we did manage to down a very welcome glass of wine under the eye-catching cool blue wine tower. The wine wasn’t cheap but I could taste the reason why.

We also managed to scoff some breakfast before taking on the big city. A rousing coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice combined with a hearty plate of back bacon, sausage, fried bread, black & fruit pudding had me positively skipping my way towards the East Anglia & Stansted Express and London. I could have had muesli, yoghurt and fruit but the cooked breakfast choices were just too tempting to resist.

Radisson Blu Hotel you’ve got two new and very impressed fans.

Prices at the Radisson Blu Hotel London Stansted Airport start from around £58 per room which we think represents excellent value. Book some chic time at the cool Blu Radisson here.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites plus lots of other things. Follow Jack on Google+

Don’t get me wrong, I was enthralled by the infectious buzz of Britain’s capital but switching to the more leisurely pace of York was equally appealing.

Having recently had the pleasure of watching the TV adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskill’s North & South, our immediate impressions were that its tale of class and cultural differences between different parts of blighty was still relevant in some ways. They simply feel like very different worlds.

Sadly, for us, all we had was a one night stand with one of Britain’s most endearing and camera friendly cities. It was barely enough time to indulge in a bit of foreplay with the city… but it was enough of a thrill to leave us gasping for more.

It’s just so Dickensian. How can you not shop in places that look as warm and cosy as the ones in this picture? It’s a joy to walk down streets where the shops still feel intimate and independent (even chain stores in York don’t seem like chain stores). York offers a refreshing change from those bland, interchangeable High Streets that are found in too many British towns and cities.

If the shops look warm and inviting, the staff inside them are equally welcoming. Within half an hour we’d munched on Champagne truffles, sipped a sprightly cup of Prosecca and my camera ended up with a new eyepiece without us actually spending a penny. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, the free truffles did inspire us to fork out on some choccie treats.

Roasted chestnuts AND ridiculously pretty streets. Now I know where Quality Street sweetie tin makers and Christmas card designers go for inspiration.

A signpost that bustles with promise – a dungeon, museums, a brewery, The Shambles and riverboats. Wonderful. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…

Names around every atmospheric corner in York conjure up delicious images of what the past must have been like. We were gutted to have missed the evocatively named Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate.

If I have a criticism of York it is that it is just too damn picturesque; walking through the old centre had our heads spinning to such an extent that locals must have considered contacting the local exorcist.

York is such an attractive beast that it can even make Yates’s seem inviting. No offence Yates’s but I still connect your bars with sticking to the floor on Friday nights in Stockport.

A tantalising and teasing vision down a side street.

The great York Minster. Impossible to not be impressed by its imposing presence and grandeur. Gazing upon it is to put yourself at risk of a Gothic overdose. For some reason it made me think of Dracula and vampires – maybe it was the drama of dusk adding shadowy atmosphere to its legions of spires combined with nearby signs advertising ‘Ghost Walks’.

I’d have a drink problem if I lived in York, the bars are simply too cosily inviting to walk past. With nearly every one we saw it was a case of ‘I could easily be tempted to sink a jar in there.’
In the end we only had time to enjoy the hospitality at Brigantes with our friends from Inntravel. Brigantes’ herby Cumberland sausages brought on an embarrassing bout of ‘MMM-ing’ whilst the slightly fruity quaffability of York Guzzler ale had us kicking ourselves for ignoring the allure of real ales over the years.

The World Travel Market is a huge shrine to the best of the world’s destinations with wonders and surprises around every corner.

Some places don’t need fancy stands and gimmicks; sometimes a few, well chosen photos are enough to have us staring dreamily towards exotic horizons. The banners above Tanzania worked that magic for me.

Mexico’s vibrant colour scheme screamed ¡ay caramba! and came across as mixing fun with the contemporary.

Some of the images on India’s stand held a sobering quality that stopped you in your tracks. I was transfixed by the intensity of this woman’s gaze.

The Middle East displays exuded style and opulence… but for me lacked the allure of other destinations.

The spot where all the smokers at the World Travel Market congregated for a nicotine hit.

The contrast of scenes could be quite bizarre – business suits in an ultra modern building in the same scene as huge bunches of flowers and a woman carrying fruit on her head.

What a Falkland’s penguin was doing in The Gambia who knows but he seemed to be enjoying the warmth.

After a few hours nobody even batted an eye at dwarf elephants under trees. But then, an elephant in the room at Social Travel Market presentations wasn’t uncommon.

Andalusia had a stand made completely from cardboard. I’m not sure I got the significance of that but I liked the images.

I wasn’t too sure what this guy was doing in his fish bowl but he seemed a happy chappy and he did know the way to some quite incredible tasting Colombian coffee.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites plus lots of other things. Follow Jack on Google+

People rush down tiled passages, slipstreaming to right and left, barely glancing away from their iPhones and iPads as they scurry along familiar routes.

Trains scream; the wind roars down tunnels and along platforms sending hair flailing and dust particles spinning; neon signs flash 5mins, 4mins, 3mins, 2.

Inside the trains eye contact is taboo. Faces peer at screens across which thumbs move deftly; the Metro News gets passed from fingers to seats to fingers in real time recycling. Seats vacate and occupy at lightening speed like a game of well rehearsed musical chairs and space morphs from ample to premium in the rhythmical opening of doors.

“The next stop”, “mind the doors” and “change here for…” intones the PA system in a bright, BBC accent while all around voices talk on phones and to each other in languages that bring the globe within a single carriage.

And everywhere the urgency is palpable. Crowds hurtle along corridors beneath the ‘Do not run’ signs, taking stairs two at a time, throwing themselves between closing doors. Bodies surge forward as doors glide open, joining Mother Nature in her abhorrence of a vacuum as they squeeze into gaps that don’t exist, personal space sacrificed to time.

Confused beyond words, we ask for help:
“How can we get from here to World Travel Market at Excel for the next three days without the aid of a second mortgage?”
Careful explanations are given, routes are weighed up in terms of speed versus costs and a solution is agreed. Cards are issued, payments are made, advice is given – “ping the pink for transition, swipe the yellow for exit”. It becomes our daily mantra.

Each time we hesitate before stepping from platform to train a friendly face is there to reassure or redirect. From Stratford our every move is choreographed over the PA system: “this exit for press, that for new registrations”; “change at Canning Town”; “services are good”.

Soon we’ve joined the throng of humanity that twice daily traverses the city, our disposable coffee cups in hand, faces scanning our screens for #WTM2012 updates, our feet taking us unconsciously competently from Overground to Underground to DLR to WTM at lightening speed and little cost, pinging the pink and swiping the yellow as we go.

There must be days, or weeks when Londoners face delays and rail at the rails for failed appointments, wasted time and late arrivals but through the eyes of a visitor, this is a fast, efficient, clean and cost effective way of travelling around the greatest capital city in the world.
Thank you London.

Andrea (Andy) Montgomery is a freelance travel writer and co-owner of Buzz Trips and The Real Tenerife series of travel websites. Published in The Telegraph, The Independent, Wexas Traveller, Thomas Cook Travel Magazine, EasyJet Traveller Magazine, you can read her latest content on Google+

The post London Transport To World Travel Market Through the Eyes of a Visitor first appeared on buzztrips.co.uk.]]> https://buzztrips.co.uk/posts/london-transport-to-world-travel-market-through-the-eyes-of-a-visitor/feed/ 2 https://buzztrips.co.uk/posts/a-taste-of-urban-grit-manchester-in-photos/ https://buzztrips.co.uk/posts/a-taste-of-urban-grit-manchester-in-photos/#comments Tue, 02 Aug 2011 14:57:40 +0000 https://buzztrips.co.uk/?p=3072 There is beauty in the beast. It might not always be obvious but it is there in the twinkling neon reflections in an oil stained puddle at the kerb or in the soot blackened red bricks of old industrial factories whose... [...]

In 1996 the IRA set off a bomb in the centre of Manchester. The objective was destruction…but the city’s response was one of defiance and ultimately, Phoenix-like resurrection.
Whatever the politicians say, at a grass roots level many people in Manchester believe that the bomb was good for the city.

As I stand looking at the glass wonderland of the Urbis Exhibition Centre, the Manchester Wheel and the Printworks I remember the first time I set foot in Manchester, arriving at Victoria Station to negotiate moody streets that were dark, ominously quiet and positively seedy.

The bomb changed all that. This part of the city centre was reborn; a triumph of Manchester spirit over adversity. The Urbis has been around for quite a few years now, but this area of Corporation Street still feels on the shiny and new side. I loved the way Manchester was transformed into a thriving modern European city that was fun to spend time in. But in some ways parts now feel as though they have become an anonymous anywhereland. It’s probably because the names trying to catch my attention from shops, bars and restaurants could be in any city in Britain. Hard Rock Café and Nando’s just don’t do it for me. The products of Madmen types, they’re for those who like (or need) labels.

The bland uniformity of the shops around me are claustrophobic. I need somewhere that has earthy character oozing with originality…I need to be in the Northern Quarter.

Manchester’s Northern Quarter
As long as I’ve known Manchester, the Northern Quarter was home to an eclectic mix of fashion designers, quirky shops and great bars – Band in the Wall was a particular favourite and I spent many a memorable night (in a blurred sort of way) there listening to some cracking bands.
Situated between Picadilly and Ancoats, its reputation as being the creative heart of Manchester has, if anything, grown. It is the place to go for individuals who want to break free from the herd, something that becomes obvious from the moment you enter its network of gritty, industrialised streets bordered predominantly by red brick buildings.

To get there, I shoot through the Arndale shopping centre to emerge opposite a row of grubby kiosks. There’s nothing slick or fancy about them and they feel real. Ahead is the antidote to soulless High Street shopping; Afflecks Palace

Shopping in the Northern Quarter – Afflecks Palace
The haunt and hunting zone of freaks, punks, neo-hippies, Goths and everybody else who is turned off by mass produced ‘designer’ wear, Afflecks Palace is a shopping centre for people who don’t normally enjoy shopping. It’s almost as much a bizarre urban theme park as it is a shopping experience. There are Pagan shops, fetishist shops, military gear, tattooists, theatrical wear, punk, retro, American Graffiti styles, Japanese kitsch, rubber dresses and vampire clothing – all are staffed by people wearing the clothes they sell which makes for some interesting sights.

There are a zillion things here that I want to buy; things I didn’t realise I desperately needed like German paratroopers’ boots or a Dalek’s head (seriously). I’m overwhelmed with the overdose of originality and seek out a coffee shop to acclimatise.

It’s as quirky as the rest of Afflecks and the owner possesses that particular brand of Manc humour which can come across as downright rude to the uninitiated (or maybe he actually was rude). He hums and haws at my Scottish £20 note (something I discover that still winds me up) but the coffee’s good and the setting suitably Bohemian – even the cola is original.

The shops in the streets outside Afflecks aren’t quite as outrageous, but they’re still unique; from fancy hat shops and outlets displaying real designer wear from the best of Manchester’s young new talent to time-travelling places selling rockers clothing.

However, exploration is cut short by the fact that it’s raining – did I mention this was Manchester – and I decide it’s time to see what the pub scene has to offer. There are a number of tempting places; I’m guessing the Soup Kitchen isn’t a real soup kitchen, but I’m looking specifically for a chunk of the traditional Manchester pub scene. By pure luck I strike gold.

Bars in Manchester – The Castle Hotel
From the outside it looks like the sort of place that’s home to four old guys in flat caps talking about pigeons. But if a re-visit to the Northern Quarter has taught me anything it’s that looks can be deceiving. The Castle Hotel looks like a traditional old bar, both outside and within it’s dimly lit interior – but it’s a drinking haunt of artists, musicians, Northern Quarter residents and students. A poster on the wall outlining recent events tells me all I need to know – Northern Quarter Book Club; Preston is my Paris Launch and the intriguing sounding Dr Butler’s Cowboy Extravaganza – I immediately want to sign up for a Bad Language Writers Collective. I order a pint of scrumpy and a chunky egg butty and ask the barmaid if I can photograph her pumps. Instead of slapping me she smiles and says ‘luckily, I’ve just buffed them up for you,’ What can you say to that?

An explore of the place reveals a wonderfully atmospheric, rejuvenated Victorian bar. A back room with a small stage is clearly the performance area. The bar’s open air terrace makes me smile, it’s a tiny courtyard enclosed by towering red brick walls; it is the consummate urban terrace – it is so Manchester.

I know I should continue exploring but it’s still drizzling outside and the scrumpy was extremely quaffable… plus the barmaid’s pumps really are impressively dazzling. I order another scrumpy and sit back down in a shaft of light by the window. I was in the Manchester I was looking for, so why not take the time to enjoy it for just a little bit longer?

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to lots of other places. Follow Jack on Google+