From Soho down to Brighton, I must have played 'em all
Tuesday night turned out better than expected. After checking my email, I returned to my dormitory to meet a group of....you guessed it...four Spaniards from the Canary Islands. After making fun of one of them for taking the trouble to learn Esperanto, the four of us went downstairs to the hostel bar for drinks and chit chat. I must admit, I recognize the general scorn towards tourists who mostly hang around the hostel and see little of the authentic social life of the country they are visiting. And most of the time, I agree. This night, however, I was so tired from walking around all day, and had little interest in exploring the city yet again, in hopes of finding a bar or club that would suit me. Besides, I generally prefer having a group with which to socialize. The Spaniards were good company, and gave me yet again an opportunity to practice my Spanish (which is probably getting better on this trip). We were each pressured into drinking from a beer bong by a young Australian with dred locks who, unable to pronounce the "rrrr" sound, attempted to egg the Spaniards on by telling them that "Espana es 'mielda'". We wandered onto the streets to grab a sandwich at a local store and chit chatted with a Morrocan cab driver. A fun night!
Which led to a stressful morning, where I frantically got myself together for my planned day trip to Brighton. C suggested that Brighton would be a good break from London and that I would enjoy the rocky beach, which ended up being correct. I had expected the beach to be coarse sand, as that that I had experienced before but was shocked to find a beach of large stones about the size of walnuts. Not the most pleasant to walk upon, but kind of nice to lie upon.
Without a map nor any idea in what direction the shore was, I wandered for about half an hour from the train station until I found the Boardwalk. I casually walked up the beach, listening to my iPod (which I had recently charged). When I grew tired, I stopped for a coke and some fish and chips. I wrote some postcards and letters and stepped out onto the beach for some sun and people watching. I had never imagined Britain to be so bright and hot, but after an hour on the rocks I felt cooked.
I returned to the boardwalk, bought and ate some jellied eels (do as the locals do, right?)
and walked along the pier. By now I was feeling unusually tired, and after a delicious "American Donut" (which more resembled funnel cake), sat in a bar for a few minutes drinking water and eavesdropping on the Russians to my right. I tired of the pier and explored the city of Brighton.
After a very long walk I settled in a quiet bar near the main park and after putting some music on the jukebox (Spandau Ballet, Jam, Blondie) the bartender, a 30 year old guy from Somerset elaborated on some conspiracy theory regarding September 11th. Some of it was quite difficult to believe. He showed me a short documentary where the host harasses Michael Moore on the street for being too easy on President Bush. Uh....
I had dinner at the Franklin, down the street (jacket potato and chilli), and then walked through Brighton at night, looking for a place to sit that would be sufficiently happening yet not overly trendy. Finally, I found a spot on the beachfront selling one pound drinks so stepped in for a jello shot. Surprisingly quickly, this German guy studying English in Brighton approached me and introduced me to his group of friends from Germany, Luxembourg, Sweden, Russia and New Zealand. German people I have met seem much friendlier than the English people I meet. Perhaps because they are tourists themselves. All the folks I met were very nice. I left them at around 11 so that I could catch the last train back to London, fell asleep, arrived at around 1 and went to sleep not so long afterwards.
It was a very good idea that I go to Brighton. The London pace has gotten to me, everybody rushing in one direction or another. Brighton was slower, more manageable, more walkable. The ocean and the sun was refreshing. For the first time in a while, I was able to relax. Wouldn't want to live there though. Just a bit too boring and way too touristy.
Which led to a stressful morning, where I frantically got myself together for my planned day trip to Brighton. C suggested that Brighton would be a good break from London and that I would enjoy the rocky beach, which ended up being correct. I had expected the beach to be coarse sand, as that that I had experienced before but was shocked to find a beach of large stones about the size of walnuts. Not the most pleasant to walk upon, but kind of nice to lie upon.
Without a map nor any idea in what direction the shore was, I wandered for about half an hour from the train station until I found the Boardwalk. I casually walked up the beach, listening to my iPod (which I had recently charged). When I grew tired, I stopped for a coke and some fish and chips. I wrote some postcards and letters and stepped out onto the beach for some sun and people watching. I had never imagined Britain to be so bright and hot, but after an hour on the rocks I felt cooked.
I returned to the boardwalk, bought and ate some jellied eels (do as the locals do, right?)
and walked along the pier. By now I was feeling unusually tired, and after a delicious "American Donut" (which more resembled funnel cake), sat in a bar for a few minutes drinking water and eavesdropping on the Russians to my right. I tired of the pier and explored the city of Brighton.After a very long walk I settled in a quiet bar near the main park and after putting some music on the jukebox (Spandau Ballet, Jam, Blondie) the bartender, a 30 year old guy from Somerset elaborated on some conspiracy theory regarding September 11th. Some of it was quite difficult to believe. He showed me a short documentary where the host harasses Michael Moore on the street for being too easy on President Bush. Uh....
I had dinner at the Franklin, down the street (jacket potato and chilli), and then walked through Brighton at night, looking for a place to sit that would be sufficiently happening yet not overly trendy. Finally, I found a spot on the beachfront selling one pound drinks so stepped in for a jello shot. Surprisingly quickly, this German guy studying English in Brighton approached me and introduced me to his group of friends from Germany, Luxembourg, Sweden, Russia and New Zealand. German people I have met seem much friendlier than the English people I meet. Perhaps because they are tourists themselves. All the folks I met were very nice. I left them at around 11 so that I could catch the last train back to London, fell asleep, arrived at around 1 and went to sleep not so long afterwards.
It was a very good idea that I go to Brighton. The London pace has gotten to me, everybody rushing in one direction or another. Brighton was slower, more manageable, more walkable. The ocean and the sun was refreshing. For the first time in a while, I was able to relax. Wouldn't want to live there though. Just a bit too boring and way too touristy.
posted by Jed at 2:11 AM
2 Comments:
You made the mistake of actually walking ON the beach. They built that boardwalk for a reason, eh?
I took one foot trip to the water, put my hands in and walked back. The rest of the time I kept my shoes on.
If only I had a map of the place before I got there. By the evening I must have put a few miles on the old legs.
Well, you know me. My number 1 priority when travelling is usually to try whatever I can that I don´t expect to find at home.
You would have been impressed by frugality that I kept myself from purchasing a dozen oysters on the streets of Paris yesterday during my train layover.
So far in Barcelona I haven´t consumed anything too adventurous. I had something today that had an unidentified fish product in it, but it was very likely nothing more than crab (or hopefully not ¨krab").
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