Just Like Home .

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…Almost

Up early because I had decided to save some money and use local buses instead of the National Express to get to Brighton (the English version), I was away from Dover at 7.30am and trundling through the countryside towards Eastborough where I’d have to change to get to my destination. If I’d have taken the National Express, I would have had to go back to London before getting out to Brighton and it would have cost about thirty pounds instead of only five fifty. The down side… it took from 7.30am to 3pm just to travel a few hundred kilometres.

Brighton is a seaside town on the southern coast of England which is known for it’s party atmosphere and the fact it has the largest gay and lesbian scene outside of London. Not realising that it was a Saturday almost became a horrible mistake as there was a bike ride from London arriving the following morning. Couple that with the fact it looks like Brighton is the place to go for stag and hens nights and all of a sudden I was without a room for the night again. The tourism office only had expensive B&B’s on offer so I grabbed the addresses of the hostels and started walking. By the time I’d crossed off five out of the six on the list (I was thinking I would be sleeping in a park for the night) I managed to find a bed in the last one out in Hove which is a half hour walk from Brighton.

Meeting a few people in the common area, I quickly realised it was also the weekend of the summer solstice at Stonehenge and a group of them were heading up there to party and watch the sun rise over the stones. Before I knew it, I was tagging along (not needing my bed after all) as Salisbury was my next stop anyway, and we were off to the train station. Things started to fall apart at that point. The train was not a direct line and there was only a connection through London so it was going to cost fifty pound plus a coach fare to the stones just to get there. Put that together with the fact that I’d already paid for my room for the night and that I hadn’t taken any photos of Brighton yet and I packed it in to head back to the hostel. It would have been good to experience it but I just couldn’t justify that much when I’d see it soon anyway. I do wonder if the others decided to go and how it was every now and then.

Brighton basically has two main attractions other then the party atmosphere, the pier and the Royal Pavilion. Taking a walk down the coast from Hove, The Pier looms in the distance, gradually getting bigger, with it’s amusement park on the end. Stark reminders of what can happen are shown as I walked passed the old West Pier which is now just a tangle of metal of the coast where (I guess) it either burnt down or the sea took it’s toll.

The walk gave me my first taste of an English beach…. which is to say pebbles. Ranging in colour and size, it is a pretty if not surprising sight but I don’t know if I’d want to go and lay down on them. It also explains why all the English people I know are so good at skimming. There is an endless supply of perfect rocks just waiting to be thrown.

The Royal Pavilion is a magnificent building in the centre of town with definite Indian tendencies. It’s housed in a cluster of buildings including a theatre and museum, surrounding a serene park. Being the residence of King George IV when he was still a prince, it’s interior is even more opulent with oriental style furnishings and sculptures indicating power and wealth everywhere.

Although Brighton was nice, the trudging around looking for a a room was another lesson learnt and I’ve given up on the spontaneous approach and have now booked in a few days ahead of each place.

So with that, I’m off to Salisbury!!

“I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine.” - Caskie Stinnett

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