Off the Map

So it WAS sunny...

I guess I just got lucky...


Sun quickly turned to heavy rain in Canterbury, which has since turned into the thickest fog I've seen in Brighton. Amazing! I could have honestly done without the Kent rain, but this fog is such an experience... you'll just have to see the photos.

So I left off right before catching a train to Canterbury - which is about right, except that I took a detour. If you'll remeber, I was graciously escorted around by that random Brit girl in Cambridge. We caught the train south together where, along the way, she invited me home to meet the folks, tour her small village, and have some ham rolls. How can one refuse? So I ended up spending the afternoon in some tiny Kent village, the name of which started with an M. The fields and surrounding pastoral scene were breathtakingly tranquil, if one may use those terms in conjunction. The 'Stella' at the local's pub was wonderfully poured and the kindness of the family who went to pick up their daughter from the train station for Easter, only to find she'd brought some stray American along, was exceptional. I love travel!

I later caught one of the last trains to Canterbury, where I had no reservations (and had been told the hostel was full). After wandering around for a while and trying not to lose my ham roll dinner at the absurd bed & breakfast prices (£50 for a single!), I thought 'You know, youth hostels always have flakes'. So on a whim, I called the hostel and lo(!) there was a bed! Jason wins. Granted, it took me an hour to find it on foot in the middle of the night, but hey, £13 is a far cry from £50...

Easter Sunday? Where else but the Anglican Cathedral? Yes, I saw the Archbishop of Canterbury himself. The service was full of pomp, circumstance, and lots of wigs. Yes, the town government still drags out the good 'ole English wig every now and then, if nothing else but to remind them how nice it is not to have to don them everyday. Rather impersonal was the general atmosphere of the service (you could tell the majority were not regulars, and, even worse, tourists like me), but the Archbishop's sermon was perhaps the best I've heard - not so much for its emotional appeal, but rather for the rhetoric, diction, and speaking voice. I must admit I let out a laugh when the English congregation first joined together in heavily accented song. Monty Python was dead on.

Canterbury itself is a beautiful town with many worthy sights: the cathedral, riverside gardens, old castle and fortification ruins and a plethora of small and distinct shops. But a day and a half is quite enough. The local shepherd's Naeme bitter beer is very unique - something I learned my second night in the town. I had met two Londoners who had just biked down for the day in our hostel room. We hit the town for some good pub made English Pies, with plenty of draft to go along. I sampled my first Cider, and a bevy of other brews. All rather good, but distinctly more bitter and clearer than your average Bavarian beer.


On recommendations from several English, I caught a train over to Brighton today. Brighton is to Canterbury what Naples is to Sienna. Clearly touristy, fast moving, young, dirty but with plenty of energy, Brighton has evolved from its golden years as THE seaside destination for island-bound vacationers. The Pier is unique, as is the pebbly beach. The pavilion shrouded in thick fog feels like a chapter from your favorite fantasy novel.

I'll be moving off to Stratford-upon-Avon tomorrow to meet up with a good friend from Regensburg. Cheers!

posted by Jason @ 8:29 pm