In the spirit of being proactive, which I have lots of motivation to do when it comes to traveling (but not so much other stuff), I have decided to finally return to this blog, so that I might actually finish something I started for once in my life. Besides, I'll need to finish it so that it'll free me up to write about all my upcoming adventures later on this year.
So Brighton, how was that, you ask? Brighton was lovely, but unlike my trip to London, where I was a shameless photo-snapping, video-taking tourist, I felt like I was more of a visiting local in Brighton because I was there to see a friend of mine. Noah was another one of those exchange students I had met the previous semester at UNCW.
Part 1
Noah had recently come back to Brighton to live for the summer before returning to school in London in the fall. And as such a poor college student living away from home for the summer, he was working. A lot. No complaints, of course. It was great of him to let me stay, use his water, and eat his food.
Once I said my goodbyes to Benny at Waterloo station in London that Wednesday, I bought my ticket to Lewes and was on my way. Lewes is a small town right outside of Brighton, where Noah's mother lived and where he worked. I arrived with just a backpack, and stepped outside just as the drizzle turned to rain. Noah had given me directions to find him at work, and despite my complete inability to follow directions, I found him. I walked into the Pelham House, a fancy hotel, and asked the man at the front if Noah was working. He pointed to what looked like a dining room, and I walked through the door.
There was Noah, back to me, taking a table's order. I stood in the doorway and waited patiently. At one point, he must have seen me out of the corner of his eye, because he looked over quickly, then returned to his work. I then saw the image of myself standing in the doorway actually register in his head, and he did a fantastic double take, face lit up, and said through a big smile, "Oh, my days!"
We both stood at the bar, where his boss gave me a (FREE!) half pint, and caught up ("Your accent sounds so out of place here").
When he was finished with work around 11pm, we took a train to Brighton, where he showed me around a little bit. I've said this before, but going to visit a friend in a new city has a certain intimacy that you don't get when you just go visit a new city. Noah showed me where he used to hang out as a school-aged kid, which place has the best burgers, and then possibly one of my favorite spots in Europe, a regular hang out among him and the rest of the youths in Brighton. It's a row of benches along a pedestrian street outside a local theater, affectionately dubbed "The Benches." It was a Wednesday night, and even during the summer, not many people were about, but we stopped by a corner store ("Isn't it nice how corner stores have the decency to always be located on a corner?" There'll be a lot of these-Noah said lots of quotable quotes over the course of my week in Brighton) to buy some beer.
Even though it was late, we spent a while on the benches chatting, catching up on each other's lives, sharing some wine straight from the bottle. Despite the lack of people out, it was obvious this was a well frequented place. A few girls were sitting a few yards to our right and were being harassed/annoyed by what appeared to be a homeless man. A guy walked by and asked for a light, but he said "Have you got a light?" instead of "Do you have a light?". It all felt thoroughly British.
We then went back to his apartment, which I don't think words will suffice in describing to you, but I will try. It was dirty. Messy. Beyond disgusting. And normally this would bother me, but it was just so repulsive that it had a certain cinematic quality to it...Like, it was so dirty it couldn't even be real. We stepped around the empty beer bottles, plates of partially eaten food, and carelessly discarded sweaters, up to his bedroom and attempted to watch a movie, but fell asleep.
The next day, Noah had to work somewhat early (and by "early" I mean at like 2pm, which is early when you go to bed at 5am), so we left his place and he gave me an extremely quick walking tour of Brighton, just to allow me to get my bearings. Here's the pavilion, here's some famous hotel, here's the pier, that's Churchill square.
That afternoon, which was a Thursday afternoon, while Noah was working, I was planning my weekend trip to Scotland. I met him later at his work, from where we both walked to his mom's house. That night, Noah showed me how to make some noodles and a watered down can of tomato paste last for several meals, before we settled in for the night with some amazing British reality TV: Embarrassing Bodies. Seriously, that shit is thoroughly good. If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it.
The next day I left for Scotland. I wasn't sure of my plan, and I certainly didn't want to overstay my welcome or assume that I was allowed to stay longer than I was, so when Noah expressed disappointment that I wouldn't be around for the weekend to go out to some of the clubs in Brighton, I suggested the idea of coming back after Scotland. Noah seemed excited enough about the idea, so it was settled. After Scotland, it was back to Brighton, not London.
Part 2
For that Monday, Noah had given me directions to get back to his mom's house in Lewes, where I met his mom and younger sister, Lois. His mom was awesome and very hospitable. She, like every other British person I've known, offered me copious amounts of tea, asked me about my family, and said things like "Nice one."
Noah got back from work a little later, and together we scraped some left-overs together and fashioned ourselves a make-shift meal of marmite (If you want my advice, stay far, far away from marmite or any other spread that ends in "mite"), rice cakes, and all that remained in several different bottles of wine. After a quick episode of Embarrassing Bodies, this time about genital deformities and reproductive diseases, it was off to bed.
The next morning, Noah's mom offered me another cup of tea. And you don't just say no when a British person offers you tea. After a little while, Noah had to go to work, and I went to meet his mom and Lois at a public pool. The problem is that my complete lack of a sense of direction or indeed any type of spatial intelligence has contributed to an extremely low level of confidence in my ability to find anything at all in the geographical sense, and I end up doubting myself ("Is this a slight right? This doesn't look like a slight right. I'll just walk on to the next one." "Is that the red sign he was talking about? That looks more orange....") and thus: the complete inability to follow instructions I mentioned earlier. Anyway, I got lost on my way to this public pool I was headed to. The lucky thing is that I may not know where my destination is, but I always leave a trail of mental bread crumbs. So while I had no clue where this public pool was, I did know where I was. And it just happened to be a lovely summer day! That was lucky. Imagine walking around all afternoon looking for a pool you doubt even exists, all in the rain that is so typical of England.
So after a while I gave up and decided just to head back to the Pelham House to find Noah, and as luck would have it, Noah's mom and Lois as well. Turns out there'd been a massive line outside the pool, and when I never showed up, they got slightly worried. Noah's mom felt so bad that I'd gotten lost (though it was entirely my fault), she bought me a pint. Don't you just love other peoples' parents?
While I was there, another UNCW veteran came to meet me. Lucky is originally from London and while Noah still had a few hours to work, he and I took a train to Brighton to eat and then to see the Dark Knight. The Duke of York theater is the most adorable hipster hang out. It's an old theater refurbished into a cinema. After the movie, Noah met us and we all revisited the corner store to get beer ("This one says it's 6 pounds for 6 beers...So if we each get 2, then it'll be 6 pounds or 1 pound each..." Good math, Noah. Good math).
The next day, Noah had work off, and the three of us hung out all day. Unfortunately it's been entirely too long since this has happened and I have no idea what we might have done on this day. That night Noah was eager to show us the nightlife ("There are some good clubs in Brighton innit?"). We went to a place called Digital, located by the pier almost right on the shore, and it was exactly how it sounds. Loud dubstep played in a massive dark room (save for the flashing colored lights) while people danced or stood around the nonsensical and non-utilitarian furniture. I'm not one much for clubs, but I will say this: on the whole, I think English boys are better dancers than American boys.
Oh, travel tip:
Though, in my opinion, breaking up a drunken fight between your friend and a guy wearing a muscle shirt with the word "RIPPED" across the chest is the right thing to do, it may result in a punch to the face. And those hurt.
The next morning, Lucky left early to go back to London. We slept in for a really long time, but after a while I felt recovered enough to get on a train. I had no sense of urgency, but eventually Noah had to work. He walked me to the train station and with one last hug and a "thanks for letting me crash and eat your food," I waved goodbye out the train window as we bustled away all cinematically, and was on my way back to London.
