Some of the familiar ugliness of Tokyo remains — the overhead wires, stumpy ferro-concrete buildings, and rumbling elevated trains — but there’s a very apparent air of relaxed poshness, too. It’s a feeling I’ve encountered several other times in this sprawing metropolis, but nonetheless I’m instantly taken by casual-but-chic Daikanyama.

This charming neighborhood in Shibuya ward became hot with Tokyoites about a decade ago, shortly after those adjacent to it — Aoyama, Ebisu — took off. Gradually, a few high-end chains set up shop.

But they’re along the lines of Paul Smith and Vivienne Tam, too expensive for my blood, yet without the roll-your-eyes familiarity of other uber brands such as Chanel or Dior.

Naturally, though, it’s the little retailers that count. Like Kamawanu, located in an old wood building fronted by a traditional nori curtain and crammed from top to bottom with tenugui.

The shop offers more than 200 classic, contemporary, and seasonal designs — at Christmastime, I picked up one sporting a gift-laden Santa making his way down a Kyoto street. The Japanese use these bold, graphic cotton towels for wall-hanging, gift-wrapping, head-covering, and, of course,  hand-drying,

Moving through the neighborhood, I seek out other well-known retailers, like Loveless and Okura, the one selling fashion-forward clothes in a modern setting, the other leaning toward indigo linens and organic cottons set just-so amidst a rustic building.

Passing the music shop, Bonjour, a CD of Big Band classics remixed, Euro-style, grabs my attention — so I wander in and buy it.  Nearby — who knew? — I discover a branch of Mario Battali’s Eataly, the grocery store-cum-food mall of all things Italian. Located in two buildings wrapped around one of the courtyards that mark the area, the oils and noodles here seem exotic, given the context of sesame and udon so common elsewhere.

Still, of course, they’re not that exotic to me, so I push on. It’s those courtyards and passages that interest me the most, after all. Much of them come courtesy of architect Fumihiko Maki, whose Hillside Terrace complex dates from the late 1960s. Rising from both sides of the train station, these buildings are ripe for exploring, offering an eclectic mix of cafes and galleries, with the occasional surprise like a tony flower shop.

Photos by JoAnn Greco

Back at grade level, Daikanyama offers its own array of curving lanes and a plethora of places to take a break. I settle into Queen’s Collection Chocolate, and examine its exhaustive menu of hot chocolate. About $7 buys an entire experience.

Pick your chocolate, and add flavorings (such as caramel), then wait a bit for the ensuing masterpiece. I sit at a window counter, watching moms-and-strollers glide by and a pair of frolicking golden retriever puppies.

Soon, a white-aproned waitress offers me a tidy assemblage that includes a small porcelain pitcher of milk, an egg-shaped vessel that holds a votive candle burning under a bit of foamed milk, and another small porcelain bowl of chocolate chips. I mix everything up and indulge.

When I rouse myself, I hear train after train gorging itself of returning commuters. The once-calm streets fill with denizens walking into the controlled frenzy so typical of the rest of Tokyo. The sky is darkening — the bright lights of  Ueno? Ginza? Shinjuku? beckon, and I leave Daikanyama.

Not so many years ago, the North Davidson area of Charlotte was a struggling community, anchored by an abandoned textile mill and vacant storefronts.Centered on the intersection of North Davidson and 36^th Streets, it was an area to drive through, not a place to drive to.

Today, “NoDa,” as its been recently acronymnized, is filled with galleries, boutiques, eclectic eateries and some of the hippest music venues in the city.

It’s a destination for Charlotteans and visitors beyond.

Art and its expression is what started this whole neighborhood revival. In 1986, Paul Sires and Ruth Ava Lyons, two young artists, happened upon the dilapidated and neglected mill village — just two miles from Center City — and became captivated by the area’s character.

The couple bought and renovated the Lowder Building as well as several other store fronts and a mill house, starting a transformation into a community for the arts. In fact, Lyons and Sires even won a preservation award from Historic Charlotte, Inc.

Other artists followed, and in order to gain an audience for artwork, the budding community started opening its doors for a monthly gallery crawl.

Today, those twice-monthly Friday night crawls are a great way to experience NODA’s unique street scene.

Galleries stay open later and admission is free. Art openings are scheduled around the Fridays, and artists are often on hand to discuss their work with patrons.

Great food is also part of the neighborhood experience, and not just during gallery crawls. Boudreaux’s, located adjacent to The Neighborhood Theater, gets packed for pre-show dinners, so it’s best to make a reservation for those nights to ensure your own personal shrimp po’ boy, one of the menu’s many Cajun treats.

Cabo Fish Taco offers up fresh Baja cuisine and one of the most relaxing, inviting decors you’ll find in the city, with an original tin ceiling, brightly painted chairs and tropical-hued walls providing a beachy, laid back atmosphere to the eatery.

For a quick bite or a relaxing coffee, a neighborhood favorite is Amelie’s, a little off the beaten path at North Davidson and 28^th Streets. This bakery serves up French classics, such as eclairs and tartines in a shabby-chic décor.

When it comes to music, NODA really delivers. Venues such as The Evening Muse and The Neighborhood Theater have hosted an impressive list of musicians, from folk singer Clare Burson to Doc Watson, George Clinton, Band of Horses and The Marshall Tucker Band.

Music drifts out of many corners of NODA, and from street musicians to an acoustic duo playing in the corner of a restaurant, the neighborhood destination seems to have a soundtrack of its own, seven nights a week. And with all the great shopping within a few blocks, its easy to dance to a personal beat while finding that perfect funky accessory.

Photos by Stephanie Burt

Closer to Center City, the McGill Rose Garden has been opened to the public since Mother’s Day of 1962. Ever since, visiting the the garden on that holiday has become a tradition in Charlotte, attracting hundreds of guests to this charming two-acre oasis of more than 1,000 roses, plants and herbs on North Davidson Street.

“It really is a very special day, to see so many families bringing their mothers to this beautiful place,” says Garrett Ladue, owner of the Garden Shoppe & Gallery, which offers local art, sculpture, pottery, statuary and fountains throughout the year.

The garden and gallery are a site for many community programs, including pruning workshops by the Charlotte Rose Society and educational outreach and horti-therapy for many area schools, making it a worthwhile NODA destination all year.

Stephen Hopkins House; photos by Christopher Klein

Shortly after Puritan outcast Roger Williams founded Providence, R.I., settlers cut a cow path across its plantations “for the benefit of all.” The dusty trail eventually grew into the city’s most historic avenue. Yet Benefit Street remains true to its communal origins, and those who stroll underneath its leafy canopy and visit its venerable institutions continue to reap its benefits.

Williams would probably be proud of what’s become of the old bovine thoroughfare carved into College Hill. The renegade preacher so valued equality that he designed an egalitarian community without a town center and apportioned equivalent plots of lands to settlers.

While Benefit Street is now Providence’s most fashionable address –– sporting gaslights, brick sidewalks, and plenty of boot scrapers and brass door knockers –– it still feels inclusive, rather than exclusive.

Modest dwellings stand shoulder to shoulder with grand mansions. Power brokers in suits and ties dine on the outdoor patio of the University Club as college students saunter by in tank tops and flip-flops. Inside the county courthouse and beneath church spires, sinners from all walks of life seek salvation from higher powers.

The best way to explore Benefit Street, dubbed “the mile of history,” is to join one of the Rhode Island Historical Society’s 90-minute walking tours, which begin at the John Brown House Museum. Tours traverse the civic and educational heart of Benefit Street, and take visitors inside two of its notable attractions. (Sites visited on particular days vary based on opening hours of attractions.)

The Historical Society guides lend texture to the amazing architectural tapestry that unfurls down Benefit Street, thanks in large part to dogged preservation efforts in the last half-century.

Across the street from the John Brown House, we visit the blooming gardens of the 1792 Nightingale-Brown House, an immense, boxy wood-frame manse once owned by Brown University’s namesake, Nicholas Brown, Jr., and now property of his eponymous school.

John Brown House

After a brief stop underneath the soaring steeple of the 1816 First Unitarian Church, home to the largest bell ever cast by Paul Revere’s foundry, we enter the Stephen Hopkins House, another structure with important Colonial ties. For more than 40 years, Hopkins, a Colonial governor and signer of the Declaration of Independence, lived in this burgundy house that was subsequently moved to the corner of Benefit and Hopkins Streets. A portion of the house dates to 1709, making it the oldest standing structure in Providence.

The upstairs bedrooms offer a none-too-subtle glimpse into opposite ends of the spectrum of the American experience. The finely decorated front bedchamber used by George Washington in April 1776 stands in stark contrast to the incredibly austere slave quarters just steps away.

Back on Benefit Street we stop outside a granite edifice that resembles a Grecian temple, and for bibliophiles this 1838 Greek Revival marvel housing the Providence Athenaeum is indeed sacred ground. The Athenaeum, which dates back to 1753, is one of America’s oldest libraries.

It was amid these stacks in 1848 that poet Sarah Helen Whitman ended her brief, but torrid romance with Edgar Allan Poe two days before their planned Christmas Day wedding after learning he had broken his pledge to quit drinking. It’s not known if Whitman, herself a Benefit Street resident, dumped the American literary giant with a hearty “Nevermore,” but the flock of illustrated ravens who point their wings to direct visitors around the library keep Poe’s spirit alive.

Our tour ends at the meeting house of the First Baptist Church, which serves the congregation first established by Roger Williams in 1638. (The congregation claims to be not just the first Baptist church in Providence, but the first in America as well.) The Georgian gem was built in 1775 for a somewhat odd dual purpose: “for the publick Worship of Almighty God and also for holding Commencement” for Brown University. Portions of the Brown commencement ceremonies still take place on the grounds each spring.

While the walking tour itinerary is jam-packed, plenty of Benefit Street remains to be discovered.

The northern stretch of the street is home to more architectural jewels, including the Old State House, where Rhode Island renounced its allegiance to King George III on May 4, 1776, two months before the Declaration of Independence; the John Brown House, the first mansion on College Hill when it was completed in 1788; and the galleries of the Rhode Island School of Design’s Museum of Art, which include millennia-old artifacts from ancient cultures and the museum’s Pendleton House, a replica Federal-style residence filled with American decorative arts.

It’s easy to spend hours inside, reinforcing what my guide, Barbara Barnes, tells me of Benefit Street and its linear slice of urban life: “It’s not just a street. It’s a destination.”

From 16th to 23rd streets, they appear, one after another. Butchers and bakers, spice purveyors and espresso pourers. Italian, Polish, and Middle Eastern specialty shops.

It’s all here, from pizza to pierogies, from prosciutto to pho.

Sylvia McCoy knows and loves them all. An elegant blonde, she looks slightly out of place as she leads a walking tour through the stalls and stores. But everyone recognizes her, and her enthusiasm is catchy.

Pausing before a yellow arched building with boarded-up windows she delves a little in the history of the neighborhood. “This was the oldest existing bathhouse,” she says. “But there were others. Now, it’s being turned into an Asian grocery store.”

Surrounded by defunct mills and still-operating food wholesalers, the Strip — so named because it’s a sliver of a neighborhood, running just a few blocks wide and more than a mile in length — has been home to the successive groups of immigrants who have come to work in the city’s once robust industries.

Down one side street, McCoy indicates Primanti’s, home to the city’s signature “everything” (including French fries!) sandwich. “This area was a major center for railroad workers and produce workers,” she says, “Primanti’s was opened specifically to feed them!”

A fading sign painted on the side of one building reads “Association for the Improvement of the Poor. Established 1875.”  Nearby, places like the Cigar Factory and the Armstrong Cork Factory have been converted into condos.

Condos or not, the area remains authentic and unpretentious. Most of the food businesses have stayed in the same family for decades and have their roots in the wholesale business. At the Wholey Fish Market, for example, an astounding array of sea creatures are presented in a sprawling building that would nicely serve as an entire farmer’s market in any other medium-sized city.

photos by JoAnn Greco

Next door is Labad’s, where coulis and bulgur burst from barrels, and hummus and baklava crowd the refrigerated case. Make nice with one of the brothers, Larry or William (the latter’s the one sporting the handlebar mustache), and he’ll throw in a dried fig or two with your purchases.

Across the street, in a classic 1950s one-story structure covered in white tile, the Spinadelli family have lined the walls of Parma with every manner of pork, from bratwurst to andouille, from chorizo to soppressata. Free samples are part of McCoy’s tour here, as at other places. But those on their own shouldn’t be shy about asking.

Stuffed by the slices of succulent meat we’ve tasted, we soldier on. McCoy peers down an alley, then waves at us to follow her. The space opens to reveal a little luncheonette where tourists and businesspeople alike are scarfing down pizzas, piping hot and straight out of the woodburning stove from the adjacent bakery, Enrico’s.

Before moving on, we pick up some of the bakery’s famous biscotti — it offers not only the traditional Italian variety, but ones studded with almonds, apricot, ginger or hazelnuts, to name a few.

The shops continue, each promising temptation inside: pasta, cheese, chocolates. As we walk east, the strip begins to peter out a bit, but McCoy still has a few more must-sees on her tour. She leads us to another side street and into Colangelo’s, another bakery with another specialty, this time turnover-like mele from northern Italy. Bowing to modernity, there’s variety here, too, but the apple filling is certainly the best.

The walk ends with yet another peak at the neighborhood’s ethnic heritage at S&D Polish Deli. Here, at last, we sit down — and are presented with plates of plump pierogis $4 for four!).

Some of the others troll the aisles, stocking up on jams and sausage. Me, I sit still and try to savor all of the flavors of Pittsburgh that I’ve enjoyed in the space of one ten-block, two hour walk.

From top: Wheels & Dollbaby; Via Alley (courtesy of The Thousands); Edit; and Surry Hills Markets at Shannon Reserve

Next time you need a window-shopping hit, head for Surry Hills in Sydney. Crown Street shopping serves up a bijou blend of quirky home goods, cutting-edge fashion and fabulous vintage finds.

We count down the hottest street numbers you need, starting from the corner of Oxford Street and heading south.

259 Crown St., Wheels & Dollbaby –– Melanie Greensmith’s rock ‘n’ roll threads have been seen on everyone from Daisy Lowe to Debbie Harry. Pop into this opulent shop for polka-dot camisoles, coquettish cardigans, racy corsets and figure-hugging frocks.

285A Crown St., Via Alley –– This carefully curated display of designer pieces, set out in a sleek all-white space, spans jewelry from Australian artist Elke Kramer, T-shirts from cult Japanese label Graniph, Hakusan ceramics and killer heels from Karen Walker.

137 Albion St., just off Crown, Edit –– This boutique  is owned by one-time Vogue Living editor Sharyn Storrier Lyneham, who reimainges vintage fabrics into eye-catching furnishings.

Crown Street Shannon Reserve, Surry Hills Markets –– On the first Saturday of the month, follow the crowds to Shannon Reserve where, from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m, you can rummage through racks of vintage clothes, jewelry, sunglasses, books, vinyl, and all manner of arty, crafty things.

387 Crown St., Chee Soon & Fitzgerald –– Color is key at this heavenly homewares shop. Fawn over vibrant bolts of fabric from iconic Finnish label Marimekko, Dibbern’s rainbow-hued ceramic tea sets, as well as Chee Soon & Fitzgerald’s own vivid range of graphic wallpaper.

477 Crown St., Paper2 –– Graphic designer Margaret Rockliff fills her sweet stationery store with hand-printed papers, leather-bound travel journals and such old-school delights as calligraphy pens, pots of ink and monogrammed wax seal sets.

499 Crown St.,  Title –– For those who prefer to flip through CDs, rather than simply hit “download,” this store is a must. From mid-century jazz to current-day funk, all genres are covered. Hard-to-find vinyl, films and music-themed books are also on offer.

540 Crown St., Mushu –– Along with Mushu’s gorgeous line-up of handcrafted bags and purses, this button-cute store stocks a covetable collection of clothes, shoes and jewelry cherry-picked by owner Kim Tran; no doubt it’s Sydney’s go-to shop for girlie gifts.

After shopping up a storm in Surry Hills, bed down at Sydney boutique hotel Medusa, a bold-and-beautiful bolthole in Darlinghurst, just a five-minute cab ride away. Find more fantastic things to do in Sydney in our stylish city round-up.

photos by Jean Sylvain, courtesy of Quebec Tourism Board

It’s just a 15-minute drive from modern Quebec City to Île d’Orléans, but the quick trip is like taking a journey back in time to the region’s rural past. A place of pastoral beauty, rolling hills and sweeping vistas, the 100-square-mile island remains mostly farmland. Some parts seem like they must have changed little since French explorer Jacques Cartier discovered the island nearly 500 years ago.

There are no supermarkets, movie theaters or strip malls on the island, whose population is grouped in six villages, or parishes. Now easily accessible via the Taschereau Bridge over the St. Lawrence River, Île d’Orléans until 1935 could be reached only via boat or an ice bridge in winter.

Montmorency Falls

We checked out several of the Île’s parishes during a day-long car trip along the island’s main drag, Chemin Royal, which makes a 42-mile loop around its perimeter.

Fields of sunflowers and various crops dot the landscape. You can stop by any number of farm stands to buy whatever is in season –– strawberries, apples and potatoes are among the chief products. Of course, much of the produce is shipped elsewhere. I found items branded with “Savoir-fare, Île d’Orléans” or “Isle of Orleans, We Know Farm Products,” at a popular waterfront farmer’s market in Quebec City, and also found that many top restaurants use the island’s growers as their suppliers.

Our stops included the smallest parish, Sainte-Petronille, which is called Bout de Île or tip of the island. We checked out Rue Horatio-Walker, a side street named after a Canadian watercolor artist who  spent his summers in the parish.

The street offers spectacular views of the 275-foot-tall Montmorency Falls, which, while not quite as thrilling as Niagara, proved pretty awesome nonetheless. We also enjoyed a different thrill in visitng Chocolaterie d’ I’lle d’Orleans,  located in  200-year-old house that houses a small café with homemade ice cream, chocolate raspberry creams and other sweet treats.

In Sainte-Pierre, I enjoyed the highlight of my visit at the family-run Cidrerie Verger Bilodeau.  There, I strolled the expansive orchards, before sampling my way through various homemade Canadian delights. I sipped ice cider and mistell or ice wine, and tried out maple cream –– more than 80 percent of the world’s maple is harvested in the Quebec region –– apple butter and pepper jelly.

As my purchases piled up, I knew I would be checking a bag on my return trip. But it would be worth the trouble, to take home a taste of authentic Quebec tradition.

Columns from old Capitol Theater

As I ambled down Washington, D.C.’s Connecticut Avenue recently, the ghost of a sign on the storefront of a beautiful old building caught my eye. It was little more than a dimpled stain dotted with nail holes, but had lasted long after the row of metal letters next to the door was gone.

I could still read what it said: Pasternak. Who, what, and when was Pasternak?

A little dogged investigation over the next few weeks uncovered the story of one of Washington’s most exclusive women’s clothiers. It was run by Austrian immigrant Max Pasternak, his wife, Bertie, and their descendants, from 1926 to 1961. Its customers ranged from first ladies to the wives of senators and ambassadors to visiting dignitaries.

Cities abound in such leftover bits and pieces, hinting at or telling who once lived, ran a shop, socialized, or worshipped in a building. Careful observers can spot them — intact or faded signs, symbols carved into wood or stone, architectural elements from doorways to rooflines, garden walls — and try to deduce their historical meaning.

Like the grin of the Cheshire cat, or an artist’s pentimenti, these remnants linger on evocatively.

Inspired by what I had found near Dupont Circle, I began looking for examples elsewhere, concentrating around the old downtown around F Street. Here, Washingtonians in huge numbers once shopped, dined, and went to the movies.

Transformed by modern office blocks, the area is still studded with smaller old structures, fertile ground for this urban mushroom hunter.

My first find was Harris & Ewing, carved elegantly on 1311-13 F St. The title, I learned, marked the news and portrait photographers who thrived here from 1905 to 1955.

Next I noticed cheery carvings of the sun in the tall granite building to the left — the Baltimore Sun built this 1887 “skyscraper” — and a feast of silvery Art Deco paneling on the facade to the right, installed in 1932 by the Brownley Confectionery.

Across the street I spied a colossal terra-cotta niche with two Corinthian columns, floating in the middle of the block unrelated to its neighbors. Had it been rescued from a razed federal building? No, it is all that remains of the 3,500-seat Fox (later Capitol) Theater, Washington’s largest and showiest movie palace, designed in 1927 by Rapp and Rapp..

I pictured chattering matinee patrons, perfumed with popcorn, heading over to Brownley’s for ice cream.

Perhaps they also shopped, earlier that day, at the Woodward & Lothrop department store down the street. That landmark now houses other shops, but signs preserve the old name.

Ex-banks may offer obvious clues, like the two at 911 and 915 F St. These hefty classical facades proclaim safety and stability — and retain their original names, Columbia National and Equitable, respectively, even as they live on as nightclubs.

Photos by Arnold Berke

But I never guessed the Romanesque Revival pile at F and 9th (now a Marriott hotel) had housed a bank until I saw the words “Riggs National Bank / Washington Loan and Trust Branch” peeking above an awning.

Further on, I found “Grogan, Furniture Carpets & Co.”, painted high up on 819 7th St., a rare surviving merchant ad. From 1883 to 1933, Grogan’s boasted “a complete line of all that is latest and antique in furniture and new and artistic and rich in carpets, rugs and matting.”

(I also hunted for shop signs embedded in entry pavements — say, a jeweler’s name in the terrazzo leading to a bookstore — but they eluded me.)

You can read churches, too, like Greater New Hope Baptist, at 816 8th St., Romanesque-Moorish with central dome, soaring towers, and rose windows. But . . . weren’t those Stars of David above the entrance? Yes. This was built as a synagogue for Washington Hebrew Congregation in 1898, looking even more exotic then, with onion domes atop the towers.

As I completed my walk, I wondered if these architects and sign installers, builders and business owners ever considered that, years downstream, someone walking by would see the echoes of their work, stop — and be quite taken.

Below, an excerpt from the book’s introduction.

New York City’s TriBeCa and SoHo neighborhoods in downtown Manhattan are home to the largest concentration of cast iron facades in the world.

These architectural gems are the legacy of a now-defunct textile merchant industry that prospered from 1850 to 1890.

While construction in the zone slowed briefly during the Civil War (during the Draft Riots of 1863,  close to sixty buildings were burned to the ground) and the Panic of 1873 depression, it was generally a frenetic period of construction.

As quickly as it began, the cast iron building boom came to an end as steel frame buildings rose to preeminence.

A precursor of steel, cast iron was the first material that could be prefabricated for architectural purposes, making it ideal as a strong, durable, and low-cost building medium.

With cast iron, all elements of the facade could be mass manufactured by heating iron to a temperature that would eliminate all impurities; this was a dramatic improvement over wrought iron that required that impurities be hammered and rolled out by labor intensive processes.

The primary difference: Cast iron, which has high compressive strength, is best suited for columns; and wrought iron, which has high tensile strength, is best suited for beams.

photos courtesy of Approach Guides

General prevailing characteristics include:

“Store and loft” building profile. The typical cast iron facade building in SoHo and TriBeCa is twenty- five to fifty feet wide, consisting of three to six bays; it is five or six stories in height.

The “store,” where sales were executed, was the ground floor; and the “loft,” which was used for storage and light manufacturing, consisted of the upper floors.

Prefabricated elements that increase facade uniformity. Builders could select from a catalog of stock pieces (columns, bays, window frames, cornices, etc.). The widespread use of these stock parts created a high degree of consistency both within a single facade and across facades on buildings throughout SoHo and TriBeCa.

Greater decorative detail. The prefabricated nature of architectural elements freed up building owners to opt for increased decorative details, the execution of which would have proved time-consuming and prohibitively costly if they had been rendered by hand carving in stone.

Variety of style blends. While there are certainly many “pure” examples of the five styles — Italian: Roman, Italian: Venetian, Italian: Sperm Candle, French: Second Empire, and French: Neo-Grec (all discussed in detail in subsequent sections) — a large portion of buildings display a blend of styles.

Step vault lighting. Buildings typically have storage basements that run under the sidewalk. Over this subterranean space, many employ a cast iron frame punctuated by thick glass lenses (often round and in manifold colors) that allowed daylight to pass through and illuminate the interior; it is called a step vault light. A large number of these step vaults survive — they were employed from 1845 until the end of the 19th century, when electric lighting rendered them unnecessary.

To order the e-book version, click here:  Guide to Cast Iron Architecture in New York’s SoHo and Tribeca (with Walking Tour) ]]> http://www.thecitytraveler.com/2011/06/new-york-city-cast-in-iron/feed/ 0 http://www.thecitytraveler.com/2011/05/madrid-on-the-edge/ http://www.thecitytraveler.com/2011/05/madrid-on-the-edge/#comments Fri, 27 May 2011 10:00:34 +0000 Jacqueline Ostrowski http://www.thecitytraveler.com/?p=7278 It’s easy to fall into a routine upon return trips to Madrid — churros dunked in thick, steamy chocolate with the boisterous crowds at San Gines, taking in Guernica, a dusk-lit pre-tapas stroll near Puerta del Sol and Plaza Mayor, and a relaxing picnic in the serene Retiro park.

But on a recent visit, I found myself curious about the other Madrid, the neighborhoods off the tourist trail that exist alongside its monuments and artistic treasures.

This time, I decided to explore the streets near the Plaza de Santa Ana, and then move on to Malasana and Chueca, in search of local boutiques, cafes, and a few really good walks.

After a leisurely morning browsing the collections at the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza —no matter how familiar, always a must-see for me! — I headed south down the Paseo del Prado to the Fuento de Neptuno, a grand fountain of stoic Neptune that seems to keep watch over the museum corridor.

photos by Jacqueline Ostrowski

A left on the Calle del Cervantes led me to Calle Leon. As I slipped down this quiet street, the crowds of a few moments ago became but a memory.  Here, neighboring boutiques Vinca Per Vinca and Adhoc sell fresh flowers alongside equally fresh blouses and dresses.

Just steps away, La Integral 25 looks like a retro bakery storefront, but don’t be fooled.  Step inside and you’ll see that this store specializes in vintage-inspired quirk – think Modcloth’s dresses mixed with Urban Outfitters’ gift section.

It’s the place to stock up on gifts for your hipster friends who wouldn’t be caught dead in a Spain T-shirt with a cartoon bull on it (can you really blame them?).

Pick up some no-fuss, patterned fabric-covered hair pins, tiny robot toys to adorn your bookshelves, or pillows that await your custom, markered-on message.

Head down Calle Huertas, making a detour at one of the tapas bars lining the Plaza de Santa Ana for a bocadillo — a baguette sandwich — of the famed local manchego cheese or Serrano ham.  Save room for fried bacalao at Casa Labra just off Sol; wait in line with the regulars and cough up your 1.20 euros for a toothpick-stabbed individual portion of freshly fried cod.

After lunch, take the blue line metro to the Tribunal stop to explore Malasana and relax at one of its cafes.  Its clubs may vibrate by night, but by day Malasana is a quieter scene marked by coffee shops and boutiques.

For wifi in a friendly, stay-all-day atmosphere, try La Cocina de Mi Vecina (My Neighbor’s Kitchen), a café that wouldn’t be out of place in NYC or San Francisco.  Park yourself at the communal table and, if you can, strike up a conversation with the friendly staff — they were more than happy to indulge my rusty Spanish.  This place is more about the atmosphere than the food, but if you’re craving vegetables, you could do worse than one of their create-your-own salad bowls with tuna and tomato.

A few blocks away, Lolina Vintage Café has a more extensive menu but a less intimate feel.  It fills up quickly, so go early to get a seat.

From Malasana, I wandered south on Calle Fuencarral to Calle Augusto Figueroa, a prime shoe shopping strip in Chueca, Madrid’s gay neighborhood.

Prices and styles vary, but Muestrario Mallorca in particular offers reasonably priced leather pumps and boots in straight-from-the-runway shapes.  I picked up black ankle boots and stone grey mid-heel pumps, but you could do equally well hunting for flats or stilettos.

Outside of the store, a cobalt Smart Car zipped by, windows down and volume turned way, way up on a techno remix — an audible reminder that another of Madrid’s long nights was about to begin.

As night fell, I finished a long day of exploring with a glass of tinto at La Bardemcilla down the street.  It’s a relaxed bar/restaurant owned by the Bardem family, powerhouses of Spanish cinema.

You probably won’t see Javier in the flesh, but his image is everywhere in framed family photos.  No need to be disappointed — an order of cod croquettes, calamari, or one of the many egg dishes on the menu provides a tasty distraction.

Tomorrow I’d be one of the camera-toting hordes at the Palacio Real or Prado once again, but for tonight, I leaned back at Bardemcilla and took another sip of wine.  A man embraced a group of friends as they entered, one of them hauling a cello case.  Across from me at the bar, an older couple became immersed in ever deeper conversation.

All around me, life was happening well into the night, and nothing could be more Madrid than that.

The 252-room gibson hotel, spelled with lower case “g”, is located on the north bank of the River Liffey, in the revitalized Docklands district, and the warm glow of lights within the hotel’s glass-cube façade was a welcome sight on a darkening winter afternoon.

Once a ship-loading center for livestock, the site of a smelly fertilizer plant, and a dumping ground for city sewage, Docklands is now a stunning urban renewal project that includes not only this hotel, but  a Kevin Roche-designed convention center, a theater by Daniel Libeskind and one of Santiago Calatrava’s signature swooping bridges.

Dublin is most often associated with such literary greats (Jonathan Swift, James Joyce, Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw), the musical group U2, and the lively pubs along Temple Bar, the city’s friendly but raucous two-block pedestrian street where Guinness is most likely the name that gets the most attention.

During the past decade, however, the city’s star attraction has been the collection of structures and streetscapes that form the Docklands district, which began to take off during Ireland’s “Celtic Tiger” period of the 1990s, and crested in 2010 with the opening of the convention center and the other buildings.

Then the bottom fell out of the Irish economy, and current construction projects on several buildings, including an almost-completed five-star hotel next to the Grand Canal Theatre, have stalled.

The Docklands project, organized and run by The Docklands Development Authority, has transformed the east end of Dublin from a lonely and forlorn industrial and shipping area into an interesting, post-modern downtown neighborhood where dazzling modern buildings compete with the city’s more traditional Georgian architecture.

Photos courtesy of Docklands Authority

On the south side of the River Liffey a spacious plaza, known as Grand Canal Square, designed by the American firm Martha Schwartz –Partners, has a cascading marble fountain and a series of tall, glowing light sticks that gives the site an amazing vibrancy.

Located on the square is the sharply angled, stainless steel Grand Canal Theatre, designed by the Libeskind.

During several days walking around Docklands, I felt that the entire project seems to be a wonderful example of a futuristic-looking, inner city environment that manages to meld Dublin’s cultural, business and residential interests into one cohesive neighborhood.

Its proximity to gritty neighborhoods in north Dublin, and to the docks just beyond its eastern boundary, help Docklands avoid being called “sterile,” and provide a desired sense of reality to the lovely looking but expensive residential apartments and glittering glass facades of the commercial spaces.

The Roche-designed Convention Centre Dublin appears on the river bank as a glass drum leaning against a concrete box, but the view from inside the building, of Calatrava’s Samuel Beckett bridge, and the city skyline beyond, puts everything into perspective. Roche, a Pritzker award-winning architect, was born in Dublin but moved to the United States in 1948, where his designs for the Oakland Museum in California and the Ford Foundation building in New York City, moved him into the top tier of world architects. The CCD is the first carbon neutral convention center in the world, and Roche’s first architectural commission in Ireland.

Staying at the gibson hotel, at the far end of North Wall Quay, an area known as The Point, I had ample opportunity to look at, and learn about, the O2 Arena, which was just outside my hotel room window. While most new buildings in Docklands draw attention to themselves because of their architecture, the O2, named after the British telecommunications firm, is an interesting conversion of a building with an oft- tumultuous history.

In 1988 Irish entrepreneur Harry Crosbie, along with the company that would become Live Nation, converted an 1878 train station, known as Point Depot, into the Point Theatre. The Irish band U2 was the first group to play there, and they in turn showed up to open the present O2 Arena on the same site in 2008, after Crosbie renovated the old theatre’s interior into a larger space. The exterior maintains the original 19^th-century Edwardian rail depot façade, and a large, corrugated, translucent box on the roof lets the pulsating lights shine through during evening concerts.

Architecturally-motivated international visitors flying into Dublin Airport can begin their tour right away,  just by exiting the airport’s new Terminal 2. The British firm, Pascall+Watson created a striking glass and steel terminal building that will help put thousands of jet-lagged arriving passengers in a better mood. The terminal, with its large, blue-glass elevators, spacious baggage and check-in areas, and numerous passport and customs check-points, opened at the end of 2010.