Continuing on the Trail; A Brighton Wrap up

I often come to a conflict with myself, I look for bargains and the cheaper way out, but at the same time I cannot commit so I end up paying more for things due to my lack of commitment. Such was the case when I decided to buy a ticket to Brighton. I waited to the last minute to buy a ticket because I didn't really know when I should leave or how long I should go for. I wanted to just show up at the bus or train station and have some tout yell at me shoving my bag onto the correct bus and I would just follow in confusion as I would in Latin America. I am too used to the organized chaos of third world countries. Instead I got ripped off because I bought my ticket at the bus station and I didn't want to decide on a return date. I also had to sit three hours on a bus instead of the 45min train ride, all because of my stubbornness not to commit. Well it worked out in the end because I decided to stay longer than expected in Brighton; I was still even gutted that I couldn't stay longer yet. I had pre-booked a train to Hereford early Friday morning so I had to leave Brighton on Thursday.

I know this is a horrific thing! I had to leave Brighton on Thursgay! How could I leave this amazing city without experiencing the night life, the gay night clubs?! There is nothing better than dancing on a podium to Lady Gaga in the middle of a group of boys in a gay night club. Alas my vision of being lifted up in the crowd by my gay minions singing Born this way was crushed.

I had really enjoyed Brighton and everything it had to offer but just like most places in the world I have visited it really was the people that made the place. My English girlfriend’s uni friends were amazing to me and I really enjoyed seeing how much they cared for each other. Instead of a big night out on my last night in the city I requested to have a night in chatting with my friend, a morning cup of tea with her roommate and an infamous English breakfast in the morning with the whole group.

I also got to visit a friend I met in Colombia the first time I was at the Dreamer Hostel. He had just recently moved to Brighton after living in Southampton my previous home in England and we both agreed hippyfied Brighton is way more our style. It seems like minded people end up in similar places.

I even went on a date in Brighton, that’s right I spent the afternoon with Dick’s brother, Not-A-Dick, although it was just for fun and to put in a good word for my English Girlfriend.

I was excited to be getting on to visit yet another friend I had met in a foreign country along the road but I wasn't quite ready to leave this bohemian seaside town but deep in my heart I knew I would be back. There are certain places I have been to in the world where I have felt like I finally fit in and Brighton was up there on the top of that list. One day I will find one of those places, a city on the coast or an island somewhere to call my home and stay for a while. Until then I will continue on the Gringa Trail.

Brighton, England: The North Laines and Vintage Heaven

The odd person at home will call me a hippy because of the way I live my life traveling, working random jobs and pretty much being a free spirit. The title doesn’t really suit me though. At times you can find me on beaches and in hammocks hanging out with the cannabis smoking, dread locked types. I will don a wraparound silk India skirt, wear a sea shell necklace and let the sun rays wash over me but one of the things that differentiates me from my macramé making friends is that I love fashion and I love to shop. Well that and I shower every day and shave my legs, arms and lady bits.

I should say I love style because I don’t follow any specific fashion trends. I find pieces from all over the world that are very uniquely me. The best feeling in the world for a self-professed gypsy fashionista is when someone comments on an article of clothing and asks where you got it from and you can reply, “Argentina, Brazil, Germany, Colombia, England…” I revel in that disappointed look in their face when they realize my amazing piece of clothing is completely unobtainable to them and I give them my sly smug smile when I apologize.

Recently I have been really into vintage shops and I was very exciting to scour the amazing Vintage shops I heard England has to offer. Until this past summer I strayed away from shops that proclaimed to be “vintage” to me that meant really expensive used clothes but I discovered when I ventured into a Vintage shop in my home town called Sympathy for the Rebel that in fact they really aren’t that expensive. The shop hand picks pieces from different decades and different styles from rock, mod, indie, and hipster. This is just one little amazing shop in my small city and I was elated with shopper’s joy but could you imagine my excitement when my Brighton girlfriends brought me to the Lanes in their city.

The Lanes are a pattern of narrow streets and alley ways that form the original fishing village. Today there are two sections of the Lanes; the higher end fashion shops and residential area which makes it way down to the seafront and then the North Laines which is a bohemian village home to cafes, bars, theatres, independent designer shops, vintage shops and bric-a-brac antique shops. You can have an organic vegan breakfast in a café then browse a shop that is entirely dedicated to Alice in Wonderland, find an altered vintage piece of clothing in Dirty Harry’s and wander through Snooper's Paradise flea market.

The place was definitely hippy, gypsy, bohemian or whatever the heck you want to call it or me. I loved it and I spent the next week migrating there every day while my friend was at her Uni classes. I would sip chai tea in a café called Capers while the rain came down then I spent the day browsing shops and trying to score a good vintage find…because there is an fine art to vintage shopping. You have to have a keen eye, at times items on a rack amongst all the other Psychedelic bold colours and styles of the past can look completely…how should I say it…. revolting. You have to look at everything in a shop individually and keeping in mind articles of clothes you already own that would complement it. It's probably best not to go all out completely vintage; mix up the pieces with normal fashions and everyday clothes.

The best thing about some of the Laines shops was that they have resident seamstress designers who alter clothes from back in the day such as old high waisted jean shorts and t-shirts making it into a new unique item. They were also good at window display designs which I always fall for. I walk often walk into a store all the time asking for what the mannequin is wearing but it is a studied art form and a very effective marketing and sales technique.

The Laines are among the many reasons why I fell in love with Brighton. It somewhat reminded me of the artesian neighbourhood of San Telmo in Buenos Aires minus the tango dancers. Finding a place like this wherever I travel is like finding a little home for my gypsy heart in every city.

Bonfire Night Lewes Brighton

I came to Brighton, England to meet up with my English girlfriends who I had met in Peru two years ago and if you an avid reader of my blog and a long time follower you will remember the many adventures we got ourselves into, in Peru and Bolivia. The three of them ten years younger followed older wiser traveller me. Little did they know even though I was an intrepid traveller a lot of it comes down to fluke, timing, spontaneity, flexibility and the people you meet. I’m not much for planning or keeping to a plan but I made decisions, went with my gut and they trusted me. However this time around it was different I was the foreigner in their land and they were now the leaders.

I arrived to Brighton at night after a long bus ride that would have only taken 45min on the train and a lot cheaper but I couldn’t commit to a return date. The girls and I caught up with cups of tea (soooo English!). It was just like two years ago when we first met, I really didn’t know them so well but we connected then and have kept in contact. That night I was thrown right into English Uni life (I had them all fooled they thought I was 20! Wa ha ha!). We stayed up until 7:00am partying and dancing on some poor kid’s bed and then crashed till the afternoon. I met a lot of Sasha’s (English girl number 1) really lovely friends and we all arranged to meet the next day to go to Lewes for Bonfire night (Guy Fawkes)

Lewes is the most famous place in the UK for Bonfire night and has the largest celebration. There are seven bonfire societies that participate in the processions and put on the bonfires. Now these aren’t your regular roast your marshmallows on the fire bonfire. The wood piles are as big as a house. There are seven different bonfires in different parts of the city and seven sets of fireworks displays. The last one of the night is the free one and the one in which we were attending.All the processions are free and can be seen on the main street in the village. We had tried to get there early but even at 4:00pm there was a huge crowd on the streets. We had a big group with us which wasn’t good in this situation; you could very easily lose people. The night was cold but at least it wasn’t raining. There were street vendors

set up everywhere selling typical

English street fair: Curries, Pork on a bun, soup, jacket potatoes and warm beverages. I was starving so I decided to get some Indian food but while I was waiting the process

ions started and my group ran away. The couple serving me were still waiting for a few items to put in my mix bag, George and Americo, two of our group members were yelling at me as everyone took off. I eventually told them to forget it, threw money at them and took the food I had. With bits of samosa running down my arm I watched as people dressed in traditional garb carried flaming crosses, torches, barrels of fire and set off fire crackers. Flaming floats went past and from a distance the entire village looked like it was on fire. It was incredible! Processions from the different societies went past us and fire crackers going in every direction followed behind. In my mind this seemed highly dangerous but that was part of the fun!

The bonfire itself was held in a big open field, a huge pile of wood was in the centre and a rope cut us off from getting remotely close. We froze for what seemed like hours waiting for the fire to be set and the fireworks display to go off. We were at the last bonfire of the night cutting it very close to the last train of the night.

Before the damp cold took completely over huge strange looking floats in the shape of people came through the crowd, one looked like it was a woman riding a man. I'm still not sure the significance it seemed inappropriately erotic. Then came the bonfire society with their torches and barrels of fire in which they

lit the floats and the bonfire. As the woman riding the man burned to the ground fireworks set off in the air. It was an incredible display of fireworks and I have seen many throughout my travels but this one rivals any. Especially since George (one of our group members) told me it was going to be shit.

As soon as the last explosion erupted in the air and trickled down to the ground we were off and it was a race against time. The crowds were moving out and we were all running. We had to get that last train back to Brighton as it stood we could have

already missed it. I was so out of shape huffing and puffing behind the fit 20 year olds, if they didn’t think I was old, then they would now. We were slowly dropping group members some lagged behind and some ran for the bus. There was a huge crowd around the bus and in a split second we had to make the decision to try for it or continue running for the train. We rushed on; Americo, George and Sasha were way ahead of me and Shiloh. I could barely run and I was out of breath but I pushed on. We caught up and found ourselves at a dead end. I realized my group didn’t really know where the station was. Why the heck were we running if we had no idea where we were going? The group asked directions and we were off again running. We came back through the village where the processions were still continuing but more of a tangled aftermath of processions. There was fire everywhere and fire crackers going

off. It felt like a war zone. I got a burst of energy and zipped through the people carrying torches but something caught my foot and I went flying. I skidded across the ground through burnt out fire crackers and rubbish as I landed I looked up to see a crowd of people looking at me and in the same second a woman ran through the street yelling, “he’s got my wallet, he’s got my wallet!” holding a stick in her hand. I got up and started running again. Shiloh was beside me and it was him who accidentally tripped me. We caught up with the others and made it to the train station where there was a huge queue of people pushing and shoving to get on the train. As the line moved and shoved we lost more of our group be it was every man for themselves we continued with the mob and squeezed our way onto the train. We had made it, we had saved 2.50pounds. That’s right I found out we could have just hopped on

the bus like the others did and gotten back to Brighton but instead they wanted to save two pound fifty. It sounds absolutely ridiculous but it’s wonderful.

It was an adrenaline pumping adventure the kind you only have when you are a poor student or a poor traveler. I wasn’t traveling this time as a poor traveller but I had for many years and I admired these kids for it. Plus they brought that type of adventure back to me. The adventure you have when you are fighting against principle and budget.

Bodacious Brighton; The Beginning

I say the beginning because so much has happened in this amazing city that I completely fell in love with...yes I do know I say that about a lot of places but trust me on this one!! So this will most likely be a series of the awesome bodacious-ness of this sea side city. Forgive me for my current overuse of early 90’s slang words, it just feels right.

On my return to England I saw English boy again and had decided I can’t hold it against him for not falling madly in love with me (even though he completely lead me on and then retracted his feelings!!!). I was just going to ignore the mess that was Karlsruhe, be an adult and a friend and chat with the lad. That turned into dinner, then him being sweet holding and hugging me and then his apology which all made me melt once more. Only to be crushed yet again later on. Word to the wise if a guy has to apologize especially at the beginning do not take that as a sign that he is a sweet caring guy. He should not do anything that should warrant an apology in the first place! But before all that repeat crushing happened I jumped on a bus to Brighton, England.

Brighton is on the South Coast of England and I had heard a lot about this place previously. Everyone always told me, you have to go to Brighton, you would love it! Then my English girlfriends I met in Peru in 2009 moved there for University so I had to go while I was doing my rounds in England. I always thought I could live in England again but then memories of Southampton haunt me; it wasn’t the most inviting of cities. The weather was shit, it literally rained every day. Everyone was Polish and couldn’t understand why I didn’t speak Polish, The English just complained about the weather, no matter if it was sunny or raining and my suffocating, over protective, controlling boyfriend made it hard for me to make friends. Yes you can see why I loved it there. Then there is London, which is amazing and has so much going, I have been there on five different occasions which is a record for me and foreign cities and I never tire of it but could I actually live there? To visit yes but to live, I’m not too sure. It's very big, expensive, overcrowded and besides Hyde Park there isn’t much nature around to escape to.

Now Brighton however is this little oasis just an hour train ride away from the hustle and bustle of London. You really do not feel like you are in England there with the beautiful pebble beach and old historic buildings overlooking the shore and the pier with carnival rides year round. Add to this an alternative bohemian lifestyle and a very large gay population referred by many as the gay capitol of Britain. The climate is milder than other parts of Britain and usually less rainy as the winds from the sea blows away the rain.

Artistic people thrive in the atmosphere of this city with theatres, films, vintage shops and cafes, as well as some of the best musicians. Brighton hosts the second largest Arts and Fringe Festival in the UK after Edinburgh (The Brighton Festival). You also have Brighton Pride, Burning the Clocks a winter solstice celebration, White Night a free all night arts festival for when the clocks go back in October. Then there is Bonfire night also known as Guy Fawkes Night which commemorates said man’s failed attempt to assassinate the King with a whole lot of gun powder on November 5^th 1605. Lewes a small town near Brighton Boast the largest and most famous Bonfire night celebration in the country and I had specifically planned this part of my trip to be able to witness the spectacle!

>> I will be discussing more on Brighton and my experiences there so don't fret there is more to come! However one of my friends who I was visiting there has create a blog about the amazing divesity of Brighton so to find out even more check this out!!

http://bona-fide-brighton.tumblr.com/