Walking Towards The Sea

Note: Just found this. Something I scribed on the plane that I forgot about that better describes the where PinF was based for 10 days. As you can see I'm still unraveling all the notes to myself........

I’m cruising at 34,000 feet. Right now it is 2:40 pm GMT, 9:40 am EST. I’m neither sleepy nor totally awake, though almost everyone around me is asleep. I’m distracted to the point of grabbing my lap top and scribing some thoughts and observations I’ve been meaning to write down.

I left the US 16 days ago for what I thought would be a 10 day trip. As is often true with any traveling experience I come back changed, affected, and more enlightened. I went not really in search of anything in particular yet my travels took me to past places long since buried or forgotten. After more than 25 years of friendship I honored a promised made long ago to finally visit my friend in Denmark. The often cobble stoned and ancient streets of this tiny Scandinavian country were both friendly and fascinating. The Danish Royal Palace was surprisingly accessible to the both residents and visitors alike, something lost in most western nations due to paranoia and fear of terrorism. My first day was spent exclusively with my host, walking mile after mile for hours. We strolled the streets of Hans Christen Andersen, and drank Kroenenberg beer along the canals at New Haven.

The easy carefree pace of life is almost indicative of the slower pace in Europe where the emphasis seems to be on the quality of one’s life as opposed to the alternative, certainly not just a European trait, though it appears more prevalent here in Europe than the US. Sundays really seem like family days to Europeans and even the Brits, as you see more families sharing their day in more concentrated numbers. It almost seems to me that a good indicator of how well a people relax and enjoy the easier pleasures could be gauged by the amount of cafes found in a city or town, not to mention the various selections of quality national newspapers. By cafes I mean places that are for enjoying really good coffee and that may even serve light fare to eat. Everywhere I went in Denmark I found these wonderful little cafes were we could enjoy the simple pleasure of good coffee and conversation. This was true of England as well. Calling it aging, I'm sure on all my past visits to the UK and Europe this lifestyle existed though my priorities were probably focuse more towards the pubs and other diversions. Again, the advantage of learned wisdom.

My time spent in England this visit was some of the most enjoyable and fulfilling of all my many visits to the UK. Each day I would wake in this seaside town situated in the south east of England on the English Channel. I’ve never stayed anywhere that had such a prominent presence of gulls in my life, and each morning I’d wake to the sounds of the gulls squawking in the air and on the roofs of the typical English stone row houses where I was staying. As if they were my alarm clock, I would rise, grab my I-pod, and stroll through the equally old streets of Brighton on my way to the seafront promenade for my morning walk. Along the way I realized I was walking back through my own past twenty years ago as I walked past the maze of businesses where the cultural heartbeat is alive with the pulse of the diverse population and culture that now populate 21st century England. Within the former Royal summer destination that is Brighton lays a maze of ancient streets called the lanes. Carved into the city centuries ago when streets were made of mud and not much wider than a horse drawn cart’s width, these lanes survive today because of their unique cobble stoned streets and their obvious charm. I could never learn my way entirely through these little hidden lanes twenty years ago, and I still can’t today. Luckily my friend Phil knows them like the back of his hand, with accompanying stories and facts.

Upon entering you’re drawn into the small access alley-ways that funnel you in to the lanes. It’s as if you’re leaving present day and stepping back in time to a Dickenson-esque England. The lanes hold many unique shops and curious vendors, a world within a world if you will. The amazing beauty is in their almost catacomb feel as you wind around streets running at times parallel to the sea, until suddenly you turn a corner and the sea appears before you. For anyone who has never experienced this area it really is an amazing and unique feature of this seaside English city. Copenhagen had a similar area as well, though much larger streets, they were equally charming, where street musicians, pantomimes, and artists plied their trades. The other really neat and appreciated aspect of this city would be in its unique sense of self. For starters there are obviously people of many cultures and languages in Brighton as with any city in Europe. This fact is highlighted even more so by the proliferation of English language schools along the seafront and in town in Brighton and her sister city of Hove. There is something very satisfying to see and hear this type of cultural diversity.

I recognize this isn’t always the case with some people, and certainly there are those in Brighton who don’t share PinF’s affinity for such diversity, though as an outside visitor I see the international shine it places on the city. I feel as if we are constantly being reminded of the “global community” so why not really be in that community. Brighton surely is, filled with a richly diverse population attracted either to schools or other opportunities; its restaurants both echo and represent the England of today. The other and probably more striking aspect of this seaside community is that most residents either ignore or don’t realize; either to indifference or the fact that this is just how it is Brighton’s social diversity. The incredibly diverse community contained within Brighton; gay, lesbian, mods, punks, and rastas, it really has to be experienced to understand. Still, there is really no place else like it in that you can expect to see facially tattooed red haired punker walking down the very same street as a white guy with dreadlocks and body piercing followed by a mow hawked punk. No sooner have you gotten over these anomalies you’re likely to see a traditional Englishman in a pin striped suit and briefcase. So the city it self is really a study in social tolerance in both individual lifestyles as well as choices.