Soho

Start on Old Compton Street, still the spine of Soho even as the shops either side of it change hands every few years. Rainbow flags, pavement tables, and a density of restaurants that makes choosing where to eat the hardest part of coming here. Walk two minutes in any direction and you hit another cluster entirely, Berwick Street's market stalls giving way to the narrower runs of Brewer Street and Frith Street, each with its own character.

Soho was never really built for staying overnight in the way seaside towns or country market towns are. People come here for an evening, or a weekend based somewhere nearby, and use it as a base for eating their way around the West End. That's the honest way to think about it: a place to arrive hungry.

The food reflects Soho's habit of absorbing whatever's happening in London at any given moment. There's Inko Nito for robata-grilled plates, Jamon Jamon Soho for Spanish small plates, It's Bagels Soho for something quicker and cheaper between meetings or shows. Junk Soho and Jolene Soho sit at the more relaxed end, good for dropping into without much planning. John Snow, a pub named after the physician who traced a cholera outbreak to a nearby water pump, is a reminder that Soho's history runs deeper than its restaurant turnover suggests.

Evenings here tend to spill outward from dinner. A meal at one of the area's restaurants, then a wander to Junction Bar or another of the small bars tucked into side streets, is a fairly standard shape for a night out. Soho doesn't really do quiet, and most people aren't looking for that when they come.