Category Archives: travel

Day 5: West Belfast: Murals! Murals! Murals!

As I mentioned before, everyone says you *have* to take a Black Taxi tour of West Belfast and the murals.  But H, averse to any thing that even hints at tour, was determined we could do it ourselves without a guide.  After some breakfast in the beautiful Great Room at the hotel, we went out to figure out what bus to take. The Belfast bus system is fantastic, all lines begin and end around City Hall, have easy to follow routes, and an all-day pass costs about $5.  Before getting on the bus, we did go inside to see the exhibit at City Hall, but missed out on a tour as they were in session.  Saw the Christmas tree light switch that Bill Clinton pulled when he visited Belfast (they, like me, are big fans of The Bill) and the building is lovely:

Armed only with the vague idea that we should get to the Falls Road area to see murals, we got a bus to Falls Road and just got off when we saw a mural.  Easy-peasy.  For ease of posting and reading, I made a set of all the murals photos: West & East Belfast murals

Falls Road is the Catholic section of West Belfast that has seen a lot of violence, but it's nothing like I expected.  Safe, working-class, sorta like Queens, even a bit boring.  We wandered into a cemetery, which was sad to see many who were killed very young in the worst years of the Troubles.  Some of the graves were like MENSA test questions: "Here lies our mother, Mary Rose, in loving memory by Jack and Shannon. Also her son, John Joe.  Also our uncle, Patrick Riley.  And my wife, Sheila. And our grandfather, John Joe."  Whaaa?



Most of the murals are pretty peaceful, mourning the lost or supporting other causes:

Pub on Fells Road (which had snugs!):

Had to explain the humor of this to H:

Without trying, we somehow stumbled onto the ironically-named peace line dividing the Catholic from the Protestant neighborhood.  They still close these things at night!

Despite the ever-present development all over Belfast, the Shankill Road Protestant/Loyalist area is far more depressing than Falls.  And more interesting:

The murals are a lot grimmer and more hostile, as well:

At one point, we wandered by a large lot, filled with broken furniture and wood:

As we stood looking at it and taking pictures, a Scottish minister approached us (he was wearing a collar and said "Have ye any English?", that's how I knew he was a Scottish minister) and told us about the wood.  Apparently, each July 12th, there is a large bonfire to commemorate the Battle of Boyne, victory by William of Orange over the Catholics.  It happened in 1690, yo!  The Scot said the piles would get much higher, and if you look it up on Flickr (belfast bonfire or july 12 bonfire), you will see that they did.  He told us about some of his parishioners, who had their homes damaged by the fire's smoke and heat, and how the peace line next to his (Presbyterian) church shut every night.  He told us about the "thugs" were celebrated as heroes by extremists, though he takes no side in the conflict.  Then the Scot told us all about his favorite Belfast guy, C.S. Lewis.  I learned more about the Troubles and C.S. Lewis standing on a street corner in Belfast than I ever could (or wanted to, in the case of C.S. Lewis) on a Black Taxi tour.  We might have been standing there all day but (thank God, no pun intended) the Scot had a meeting to get to, but invited us to come to service the next Sunday and he'd take us to lunch.  It was a Tuesday and we were leaving the next day, but it was a nice invitation.  I looked him up when we got back to send him a note, it turns out his name is Jack Lamb!  My maiden name is Lamb!  Small world!  Don't think I'm related to any Scot ministers, but neat!

We wandered a bit more of the neighborhood, which wasn't scary at all, but I wouldn't recommend to most tourists to wander there by yourself.  We're just hardcore like that, I guess.  Cool to see a mural being painted:

I think it was going to be something to do with Oliver Cromwell. Or maybe Vikings.  Or pirates!  Okay, maybe not pirates. 

Grimmest community center ever:

On that cheery note, I say good day sirs!

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Day 4 (still?!): Belfast

But back to Belfast.  It's a weird town, at first glance. The downtown area can be a ghost town after business hours, which is true in a lot of cities, but Belfast is small. There are still a lot of run-down buildings and streets, but overall its a very pretty city.  H was quite delighted with the run-down-ness, as nothing fills him so much with delight as decrepit buildings (Montevideo, Uruguay wins the prize for decrepitness, hands down).

But it's also very pretty, City Hall is particularly nice:

What's really amazing is how much construction is going on in Belfast.  I imagine that in a few years, it will look totally different.  You see this sort of thing everywhere:

We wandered the Cathedral District a bit and saw the eponymous cathedrals.  Here's a nice detail from St. Anne's, which looks ye olde, but is actually only about 100 years old.

Interesting buoy things outside:

Stopped for a pint and some dinner at McHugh's, the oldest building in Belfast and a good pub near the water.  Then wandered down to the famous Crown Saloon, the only National Trust pub.  It's under massive renovations, but still really cool:

The big highlight at the Crown (although you see them in a lot of Irish pubs) is the snugs, little booths where you can shut the door and drink in private.  The photos above are taken from within a snug. Some details:


And because we really didn't have enough pubtime on our first night in Belfast, we stopped off at one more, White's Tavern, which has a great fireplace (necessary even in June)  and also claims to be one of Belfast's oldest taverns.  It's in one of the cool Entries, little alleys with pubs and shops hidden within.  I failed to take a picture, but you can search flickr with Belfast Entry to find lots of cool photos.  But here's White's:

Coming next: a trip to West Belfast, it'll be mural-riffic!

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Day 4: Onward and upward to Belfast

I can almost still hear my in laws imploring me in English and Russian (which I don't speak), to NOT DRIVE IN DUBLIN.  We had no plans to, but since we were driving north to Belfast first and rentals are cheaper in the republic, we ended up renting a car through Dan Dooley in Dublin city center.  FYI, you will get screwed with insurance no matter how you slice it: our Mastercard would cover it, with a 2000 euro deposit, or you can get basic insurance from DD that you pay the first 1000 euro for.  You can do even more insurance that you only pay the first 120 euro for any damage, but that will run another 12 euro or so per day, so it really depends on how much damage you plan to make. ;)  I don't drive at all (I did just get my learner's permit, so lookout!), so poor H was going to have to figure out how to drive on the left side with a manual transmission.  It was still not a bad deal, at 215 euro for 10 days, still miles cheaper than the shitbox we rented in Uruguay last year for a few days.

Before setting off to get our Irish shitbox car, we tried to get out into the city to see at least one more Dublin sight.  We chose Dublin Castle, which is not terribly impressive in it of itself (at least from the outside, we didn't have time to do a tour inside), but the the Chester Beatty Library is pretty cool, if you are the sort of person who gets excited by seeing an original manuscript of Dante's Divine Comedy (which I am).  While seeing the exhibit on Leonardo's notebooks on water and its properties was fairly cool, I only care so much about the flow of streams and the optimum design for a waterwheel.  Even cooler was a lot of the manuscripts by lesser known people on science and technology.  I took an awesome class Italian Renaissance history and literature my last semester in school and did a small presentation on Marsilio Ficino, who, in addition to writing insane-sounding medical tracts about drinking the breast milk of a young (but willing, at least) woman to stay young, apparently was the first to use the semi-colon, as I learned at the library. Some pix of Dublin Castle:

Our desire to look at ye olde books sated, we went to pick up the rental car.  Other than a wrong-turn going through North Dublin, it was fairly smooth sailing getting out of the city, but we had enough taste of the traffic to be glad we were leaving.  I was really excited to listen to Irish radio, which I had heard was excellent, and we caught a very long call-in program about an Irish woman who wrote a tell-all memoir about her abusive father and childhood that was apparently a "pack of lies" according to her siblings. The scandal is over a documentary made about the family and her book and how she failed to show up for a lie detector test four times.  It was really interesting but a little tedious, especially as she wasn't on the program to tell her side to the lie detector saga.  We also heard a great show of all complaints, mostly about things like drunken rowdy teenagers on the Galway-Dublin train and drunken rowdy teenagers at a concert at Malahide Castle.  Gripping stuff.

The drive was fairly easy once we were out of the city, other than some close brushes with the left-side rearview mirror.  I guess when you are used to being on the left side of the car, you misjudge how much room you have on the left side when you switch sides.  Thus, we clipped the poor mirror several times accidentally.  This a theme you will hear often.  We were also pretty surprised at how little fanfare there was when we crossed the border into Northern Ireland.  Other than suddenly much improved roads and lack of Gaelic signs, you'd have no idea.  I realize they took down the checkpoints that used to be on the border, but it's kind of disappointing to cross a border and get no passport stamp.

Got to Belfast after a few hours, but realized I had no idea where our hotel (The Merchant Hotel) was, though I had printed out the confirmation and even brought them their Hot List certificate, nothing had the address.  So after a long time of driving around lost, we found the tourist office where I loaded up on maps and even a fancy brochure on the hotel.  The Merchant is very central, in the Cathedral District, which is vaguely like Soho, if you squint.  It's a few blocks of cobblestoned streets and, of course, cathedrals, with a smattering of restaurants and bars.  We checked into the hotel, which is very homey and welcoming, and I asked about Black Taxi tours, as there seem to be a million to choose from.  The receptionist suggested, *without irony*, that we take the Bentley.  H and I found it hysterical for days the idea of touring the previously troubled areas of West Belfast in a fucking Bentley.  Our room was lovely, a Loft Suite with an awesome bathroom and nice sitting room:

A few issues with the room: while it was quite romantic, we could have used some more lights.  It was impossible to see anything even in the day with the grey Belfast weather and lack of lamps in the room.  If they are trying to gear the room towards a couple, why no minibar?  I liked the fact that if your rate included breakfast, you could get it in your room for the same price as in the restaurant, but sometimes you don't feel like trompsing down to the hotel bar for a nightcap.  Unlike the Shelbourne, however, there was a lot of places to put your stuff, closets and drawers galore.

Will continue later, gotta go home…

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Days 2-4: More Dublin and Dun Laoghaire

A random assortment of Dublin photos I like, probably all taken by H:

On one of our walks around the city, I was delighted to see an awesome pair of underpants in a dry cleaner's window.  It was a sheer black thong with a red Christmas stocking on the front.  Amazing that a) someone bought these, as a gift or for themselves, b) took them to the dry cleaners, and c) the dry cleaners had the brilliant idea to hang them in the window, to attract new business or perhaps shame the thong's owner into picking them up.  I deeply regretted not photographing them, but they were still there when we came back at the end of our trip!

After our drink at Davy Byrnes, we were determined to not have Chinese food on our second night in Dublin.  We ended up at Gruel on Dame Street in Temple Bar, on the recommendation of a friend.  Very good food, simple, and not terribly expensive.  It was this night that I also noticed the curious phenomenon of long queues for ATMs in Dublin.  Not sure if it is a sign of the unstoppable Celtic Tiger or just a lack of ATMs per person, but everywhere we went in the city, there was a long line:

Temple Bar seemed much more touristy on Saturday night, a bit like Greenwich Village in New York.  We opted for a quiet and disgustingly priced drink at the famous Horseshoe Bar in our hotel.  Amazing that they've kept true to the original design, which leaves little space for the hoards of people who want to drink there.  In America, they would have built a huge extension and ripped out the original bar in the interest of packing in more customers, but the Horseshoe is just the same as ever.  In the interest of saving some euro that we had been hemorrhaging left and right, we bought some whiskey at an off-license and had a nightcap in our room.

Sunday turned out to be a rather nice day, so we took the advice of several friends and took the DART out the lovely seaside suburb of Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leery).   We wandered around town and had a pint at a nice pub serving a typical enormous Sunday carvery.  All we wanted was a damn toastie sandwich, but all of the local pubs seemed to only offer huge buffets of Thanksgiving proportions.  The pier is lovely, though.


 

After enjoying some Marks & Spencer sandwiches (they really would make a killing if they ever opened in New York) on the pier, we decided to get back to Dublin, determined to try to see some museums before we left for Belfast the next day. We went to the National Gallery, which is small but has a nice collection, including a fabulous Caravaggio, which is totally worth the admission.  Uh, the free admission.  There was also a street performer's world championship going on in Merrion Square, but we didn't see much performing.   Not a mime in sight! They did have this cool installation in the park:

We then walked though St. Stephen's Green at last to try to make it to St. Patrick's Cathedral before closing:


This looks a bit dirty to me, somehow:


Not a great photo, but check out the chav family drinking cans of beer outside the cathedral.  Awesome!

Spent our last evening in a nice beer garden near the hotel:

Pub

Pub

Off to Belfast next!

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Days 1-2: Dublin

When a friend told me that when you arrive in London for a flight to Ireland, you have about a mile trek through the airport, I thought he was exaggerating.  Not so, it turns out.  After an uneventful but delayed flight from JFK (*no one* appreciates business class more than me, it really will be hard to go back to flying coach overseas), we had to haul ass to make our connecting Air Lingus flight.  The real nightmare was going through security, as you can only have one bag carry-on, so I had to shove my purse into my already bulging suitcase, get frisked by security guards after stupidly walking through with my cell phone in my pocket, and get stuck behind several large groups of people apparently unaware of the liquid ban and still trying to take enormous but half-full bottles of shampoo.  But at least we didn't have to take our shoes off (that's how you can spot the Americans, they have us trained like Pavlov's dogs to remove our shoes in airports).  I was nearly held back by Immigration, as I had no proof of my return tickets to New York, even though I was not staying in England more than a few minutes to catch my flight, British Immigration told me they could not let me through if I couldn't prove that I was leaving the country.  They were not particularly moved by my logic that if they let me through, I would be leaving the country and no longer their problem, but they eventually let me through.  We had to run to make our flight, which was only vaguely staring to board even though it was scheduled to depart in minutes.  The Irish don't really *do* urgency.  The Air Lingus terminal is amazingly dated, it looks like something from the not-so-distant future of the 1970s.

We arrived mid-morning on Friday, June 15th in Dublin, whose airport makes La Guardia look modern and luxurious.  It was of course, raining.  After a fair bit of confusion and standing around, we got on a city bus into the centre.  We must have been the only people flying upper class and staying in a 5-star hotel taking a local bus into town in order to save a few quid, and when we arrived at O'Connell Street, the driver advised me that it "wouldn't be worth the 85p to take another bus to St. Stephen's Green, it's just down the road."  In retrospect, I would have bitten the bullet and coughed up the money, as it was pouring rain and while the walk wasn't far, we managed to a bit lost but luckily had our trusty WindPro umbrella.  It was actually the first and almost last time we used it on the trip, as wearing raincoats with hoods is more practical and easy, but I carried it around on my back like a sword most of the time.

Finally arrived at the Shelbourne, looking pretty wretched compared to most of the smart dressed people milling around the lobby.  We were upgraded to a Heritage suite, which gave us access to the Heritage Lounge, which we took much advantage of during our stay.  Not sure of what the usual price difference would be for a Heritage room, but the lounge makes it totally worth it: you get free WiFi, free food and non-alcoholic beverages, and a lovely view of St. Stephens Green.  All of the front desk staff was friendly and Irish, yet most of the rest of the time the staff was foreign, making me wonder if they just trot out the Irish for newly arriving guests and then throw them back into the basement or something.  The hotel is absolutely gorgeous, it has been wonderfully restored and I couldn't find a single flaw.  Our room was pretty sweet, mostly for the bathroom, which I could have moved into:

We spent the afternoon wandering around Grafton Street and Temple Bar, which was busy despite the intermittent rain.  I must say, we were surprised at how generic Dublin is.  Maybe generic isn't the right word, it's a gorgeous city, but could really be any big city in Europe.  It's probably the least Irish city we visited and I didn't really get into the city until we returned at the end of our trip, sort of like our trip to Santiago, Chile earlier this year.  Santiago is a great city, but most people see it as a gateway to the Andes and Patagonia more than a destination.  We were there for two weekends at the beginning and end of our trip, and we really loved it on the return.  If it weren't for the smog, it would be a fantastic place to live.  But I digress, back to Ireland.

As usual, we stopped at the hotel restaurant to look at the menu and laugh about what schmucks would pay the prices to eat there.  Yet, upon further investigation, they weren't really ripping anyone off too much, Dublin restaurant prices are exorbitant.  Cheapish/pub food is a minimum of 14 euro a dish, which may not seem that outrageous, but I wonder how the hell backpackers go to Ireland.  Taking a page from the belated and beloved Pete McCarthy, who measures a country's economy by the price of their Singapore noodles (a dish I don't think I've ever noticed before but now constantly seek out), we checked out Chinese restaurants for our first meal in Ireland.  We ended up having noodles at Charlie's, one of a chain of noodle houses, and a few pints near our hotel before collapsing at a respectable 11pm.

We woke up late the next day, which was Bloomsday.  I expected it to be like St. Patrick's Day, except with more funny hats and less green.   Yet no one in our hotel seemed to have a clue about it or what was happening, so we headed up to the James Joyce Centre to check out the events.  We had missed the big breakfast and most of the lectures, so we decided to head to the zoo and Phoenix Park and hope for some impromptu pub readings later.  I'm a big zoo person, and drag poor H. to every city's zoo while on vacation.  The Dublin Zoo was quite nice, but many of the animals seemed a little depressed about the rain and do much outside except complain about the weather, no doubt.

Zoo

It was interesting to see that lots of the animals still have the anglicized names like Sally and Danny, rather than the new school PC names you see in a lot of US zoos.  The chimps may originally be from Africa, but most of them have been raised and even born in Ireland, so why not have Irish names?  No Paddys or Sineads, though. Pity.

It was too late to go to the Guinness factory after the zoo, but we did wander around the area, which feels like being outside the gates to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory:

Took the light rail back to the city centre and found Davy Byrne's pub, where Stephen Bloom stops for a gorgonzola sandwich and a glass of Burgundy in Ulysses.

It's changed quite a bit since Joyce's time, but there were still plenty of people wearing funny clothes and drunkenly singing Irish songs:

Many more Dublin photos here, going to post this before this gets much longer.

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Back from Ireland, and the depths of the interweb

Since I'm officially now an alumna of Hunter College and not a student, I have a little more time for navel-gazing, non-academic reading, and blogging.  I'm also having a little transition week, as I go from doing PR for a travel magazine to doing PR for a travel PR agency.  Since I'm relatively free this week, I thought I'd take the opportunity to write about my trip to Ireland.  Just got back on Saturday, however one of my bags is still in London, thanks to the good people at American Airlines.  Here's a bit of a pre-recap since I have no photos uploaded as yet.

Why Ireland?
Really no good reason.  Well, a lot of little reasons.  Husband and I have no ancestral ties to the country, making us somewhat of a novelty among American tourists there.  We wanted a nice trip to celebrate my college graduation (an event 10 years in the making!) and our 3 year wedding anniversary, and while we wanted to go to Italy since I've been studying Italian for the past few years, tickets were exorbitant.   We were somewhat locked into American Airlines, as Husband is an Executive Platinum flyer, so we wanted to use our upgrades to fly business class and get miles to boot.  Dublin was the cheapest destination in Europe, though it would mean a connection at London Heathrow, which would later prove to be a nightmare.  Finally, H. is also a Platinum Marriott member, so we had points to burn and I was anxious to use them to stay at the fabulous newly renovated Shelbourne Hotel in Dublin.  So, no Irish roots, but cheap tickets and a sweet hotel.  A little irony in the fact that H hates friendly people and I hate live music, and we were going to a country renowned for its friendly people and live music.  But hey, you have to adapt when traveling.

Where did you go?
With about 16 days in Ireland, we had to really consider what we'd have time for, as everything in Ireland takes longer than you expect.  We wanted to be off the beaten tourist track, no Blarney Stone or Ring of Kerry for us, and we had some destinations we wanted to hit: Dublin, Belfast, Galway.  So we started in Dublin, drove to Northern Ireland, west through Donegal, Sligo, Mayo, and Galway and back to Dublin.  I am trying to figure out how to customize a map and show our routes, visual TK.

What did you think, in a nutshell?
We had a great time, of course, the country is gorgeous and the people are great.  People are not lying when they say it is expensive, I scoffed at most such comments, coming from New York City where I don't bat an eye when being charged $10 for a drink or $7.50 for cigarettes.  But, daaamn, Ireland makes NY look reasonable!  Dublin is especially bad, with a pint costing 4 or 5 euro, and booze much worse and measured.  It nearly brought a patriotic tear to my eye when I had a drink back in Brooklyn Saturday night, generously poured and unmeasured.  God bless America.  Anyway, Dublin is great, but is getting to be a little generic.  It really could be any big European city.  It's lovely and there's tons to do there, but it wasn't as Irish as I thought.  The countryside was gorgeous and while we didn't really "do" much there, I really got into the groove of the Irish.  It's not quite the fabulous lifestyle I enjoyed in Buenos Aires, where you can sleep late, wander around, go have a nap, and go out for dinner at 10pm.  But I digress, back to the nutshell.  You just have to go with the flow of the weather and be happy to go have a pint instead of the walk you intended.  Our favorite part of the trip by far was Northern Ireland.  Belfast and Derry are really fascinating, vibrant cities with sad histories but bright futures, if you'll pardon my cheesiness.  The Antrim coast is gorgeous and the country really has a lot to see, and we didn't have nearly enough time there.  Belfast in particular is booming with construction, I'd like to go back in a few years, it will be almost entirely different.  We expected NI to be much more expensive because of the pound, but it was actually cheaper than the Republic.  Also, while we'd like to see the southern half of the country, I'm in no hurry.  We don't generally revisit countries since we have so many places we want to go, and while the Republic of Ireland is beautiful, it's not necessarily compelling for us to return to, unlike N. Ireland.  We got a small taste of touristy Ireland in a few towns in the west, and it wasn't pretty: busloads of American tourists with enormous suitcases and little interest in things off the beaten and oh-so-quaint path.  I think going somewhere like Dingle would just be a nightmare to us, at least in the summer season, but the thought of Ireland in the "wet" months makes me nervous considering how much rain we got in the "dry" season in June.  Oh!  And the radio is awesome there, tons of random talk shows with people calling up to complain about things or share stories.  We listened to Gerry Ryan every time we were in the car in the morning, it's fascinating.

What did you read/see first?  I tried reading Ulysses, I swear.  Lord knows, I tried.  We were in Dublin on Bloomsday, so I wanted to read it all first, but it just didn't happen.  I did read lots of Marian Keyes and Maeve Binchy, though!  My favorite books I read to prepare were Round Ireland with a Fridge and McCarthy's Bar.  They were really fantastic memoirs/travelogues that I should have brought in lieu of guidebooks.  For movies, we downloaded a ton but only watched The Commitments, The Snapper, Circle of Friends, and Intermission before we left, which gave us a nice taste of the culture there, if not history.  This week we'll probably watch Bloody Sunday, The Field, Ryan's Daughter, In the Name of the Father, and The Quiet Man.  Also downloaded a lot of U2 and The Cranberries to listen to in the car when there wasn't anything good on the radio.

I could go on and on, but there's plenty more to tell when I get some photos up.

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Rye: More sheep than you can shake a stick at

On our second day in Rye, we took a country walk to the Nature Reserve, the other great pastime of the British.  I got excited when we first saw lots of sheep:

Then I realized that they were *everywhere* and especially aggressive around Camber Castle

About a million sheep later, we found the sea:

Sea

For perspective, here's looking toward the sea from the town.  Rye used to be a port city:

Our tourist map of the country walk sorta failed us once we got to the beach, so we ended up lost in the country amongst holiday caravan villages (read: trailer parks) and old man pubs.  After a replenishing pint, we finally found a bus stop and got back to Rye, where we hit another pub:

At the Cinque Ports, I got hit on by an old Australian sailor who was once stationed in Brooklyn in the 1970s, which was pretty exciting, I got a free pint out of it.  It was there that I read the awesome news of David Hasselhoff being thrown off a plane at Heathrow and Mel Gibson's infamous DUI.  Love British tabloids. 

The next day, before we headed back to London, we went to the Castle Museum:

Ye olde fun was had:

Neither husband nor I were able to really lift the longbow bag of sand, it's heavy!

With this weak ending, we took the train back to London, more later…

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

More Rye: Ye Olde Pubs

Since I just went to Chile and am itching to recap that trip, I thought I'd finish England first.  So Rye is mostly pretty cobblestoned streets and ye olde houses:


As a Lamb, I hoped I could go to the Lamb House and have them give it to me, as a potential heir.  But, alas, it was closed the day we were there, so I didn't have a chance to find out:

After wandering around for awhile, there was nothing to do but go to an air-conditioned pub and hang out:

Husband got absorbed in a John Major biography found on the shelves and I read more guidebook.  We ended up going to dinner that night at SI! Simply Italian across the street:


We didn't realize it was a chain until we got back, but wow, the English know how to do a chain, with locations that are different and menus customized to different restaurants.  Unlike American chains, where everyplace looks exactly the same.  After dinner, we had more beers at the longest-continually operating pub in England, The Old Bell:

Pretty amazing to drink in a place that's 700 years old, but how do they really know it's been open that long?  Most of the places we went to in Rye were at least a few hundred years old, so a lot of places make the claim that they are the oldest.  Good pub, though, and the bartender settled our dispute about whether or not Charles would be king (probably not, because the Brits loved Diana and won't forgive him for how he treated her, though he could technically become king if he wanted to, he'll probably turn it over to his son).  Finally, here's a sight you don't often see in America, straight men sharing a cider:

Posting…

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Rye: Too cute for words (except the ones below)

We took the train from Brighton to Rye, enjoying insanely fatty sandwiches from Marks & Spencer.  Damn, they really know how to make a sandwich, though everything is "swimming in mayonaisse" (TM the original Kicking and Screaming).  I've heard that Pret a Manger had to change their recipies when they opened in NY to cut down on the mayo.  Our loss, I say.

A few shots of the lovely Brighton train station to see us out:

Arrived in Rye in the afternoon, which is so quaint and cute, it hurts.  It seems fake, it's so old and adorable, but everything really is a million years old and impossibly charming. Evidence:

We stayed at the Old Borough Arms Hotel, which was great, but Rye is so small it's hard to be in a bad location.  Here was the pub across the street:

And the hotel corner:

Believe it or not, it was here in Rye at Simon the Pieman on Day 6 of our trip that I had my first cream tea in England.  Check out my sunburn:

It was a bit weird having hot tea and scones on an insanely hot day with a sunburn, but hey, I couldn't resist the lure of cake:

I will continue when I've finished uploading photos tonight, as not a lot happens in Rye, but there are lots of pretty photos.  Happy New Year!

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

More Brighton

I'll be in Chile in a week, so I'd better finish this…

It was on our second day in Brighton that we encountered a chav family, what we in America would call trailer trash.  We were outdoors at a pub in the Lanes and I had gone inside to obtain pints and order food.  I came outside to find Husband sharing a table with  several children who had pounced on the empty seat while I was gone.  One of the youths squinted at me and muttered, "You want you chair back, eh?"  He was only 10 or so, but scary enough that I nearly let him keep it.  Soon the kids were joined by their parents, sharing a pint and speaking something very different from the Queen's English.  The mother looked as tired as you would expect from having 4 children before the age of 30 (a guess), but it didn't stop her from wearing short denim shorts, unfortunately for us.  Despite a few open tables outside, the family preferred to sit on the curb, resting their drinks on our table.  The family shared a few packets of crisps and yelled at each other, until they were out of drink and then left unceremoniously, leaving any empties on our table that they had not smashed on the street.  As you can imagine, it was AWESOME.  When I was later back in New York, I read a lot about chav and have thought about applying to do a Fullbright there and study them, but Husband thinks I'll get knived, and he's probably right.

We stayed in Kempton that night and got a bit smashed with a few guys we met in a pub who were visiting from a nearby town for the weekend.  I told them of how I admired their country's crisps, so they bought me a few packets to experiment.  While the exotic flavors of Thai Chile and Lamb and Mint are fun, nothing beats good old Salt & Vinegar.

I'm not sure I've really captured the wonders of Brighton, but it's really a fabulous place and if I ever go to grad school, I will certainly apply at University of East Sussex, home of my idol, John Maynard Smith.

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend