To and In Brighton

June 24 (Tues) – This morning we woke early and Mike had coffee and I had cocoa while we got showered and dressed. This morning for breakfast I had scrambled eggs on toast (I didn’t expect them to be one on top of the other but they were) and Mike had yogurt and muesli. It was a much tummy-friendlier breakfast. I then mapped out our route to Brighton and wrote it all down from Multimap on the Internet. Mike wanted to hit the towns of Rye and Battle on the way and I wanted to hit an area called Beachy Head, where there were supposed to be white chalk cliffs more impressive than the ones at Dover (which we never really saw). The directions proved to be more helpful than the ones we’d tried to follow in Dover but not so straightforward that we didn’t get lost once. Mike pulled into what looked a bit like a small industrial park and two very nice men helped get us on our way again. The country side on the roads we were driving was really beautiful. Rolling hills and farmland – and what could make me more excited than that there were tons of sheep everywhere! I cannot even tell you how many sheep I saw: woolly sheep, shorn sheep, big sheep, little sheep. They were as frequent here as cows are in some parts of the States. I absolutely loved seeing the little white dots on all the green hillsides.

Just before we got into Rye, we pulled over at a little road-side fruit stand. The stand abutted some sheep pasture so I got to see some of the sheep at close-hand. So CUTE! I had already determined that these were dairy/hairy sheep, so I didn’t have to fret about them being little Gyro sandwiches someday. We got some cherries and some strawberries, and the latter were outstanding. I have never seen strawberries so plump and shiny glossy red. Yum! The town of Rye was full of narrow twisty streets full of antique shops and tourists so while it was nice, we decided to head instead for a little town that our guidebook said was quieter and prettier, called Winchelsea. We found this little town with no problem – up on a hill. And there we discovered the most beautiful old church, St. Thomas’. It was surrounded by a stone wall and enclosed an old graveyard. Some of the stones were new but many were old – people who had died in the 17 and 1800s. Parts of the church itself were either never finished or had tumbled down and the flowers that grew around the tumbled bits were gorgeous pinks and purples. You could actually go in the church itself – the several doors were old, very solid dark wood with complicated latches – and it was a treat to see it. There were some beautiful windows and tapestries and what I assume were crypts along the wall – the highly ornate sort with carved figures lying down. It wasn’t creepy though, instead it was very peaceful and I could see how people would come to worship in a place like this. There was also a huge old organ, the pipes of which you could see if you stood near the altar and looked back (they’d be behind you as you entered the church). I lit a candle here as well, not so much for Jennie as for me and the people I know and have known.

After Winchelsea, we tried to find lunch and ended up at a little road-side cafe (looked like a little house) somewhere between Rye and Hastings. Mike had already decided not to go to the town of Battle (where the Battle of Hastings actually took place) and so we stopped here before heading on to Hastings and Beachy Head and the chalk cliffs. We knew we wouldn’t be able to see everything we’d hoped to and so we’re already beginning to cut things out. I had a Ploughman’s lunch, which was a few slices of ham, a bit of salad, some “pickle” (really chutney), and a boiled onion that I did not eat. Mike had “bangers and mash” which was basically a huge and greasy pile of mashed potatoes with three big sausage on top with brown onion gravy all over. He said later that he never wanted to see another such again. I tasted it and was glad I had my Ploughman’s, which was sort of like a cheese board without the cheese.

From there, we drove through Hastings, which was nothing very special, and on to Beachy Head and a little stop over at a place called Birling Gap. Beachy Head is a coastal area and may I say that our first sight of the chalk cliffs left our mouths hanging open. They are absolutely magnificent. Very startlingly white and HUGE! Plus it was a beautiful day – a little windy but sunny and clear. We were on top of the cliffs, not below them at first, and the area around them is farmland – so rolling green hills, wildflowers, white chalk cliffs. It doesn’t get any better than that.

We drove a bit further along the coast to a light house that our waiter at lunch had told us about – and we parked the car and walked up the hill – the views were great although I must say I had a little bit of vertigo at one point. There’re signs all along that say “Cliff Edge” and because chalk crumbles, well, you don’t want to get too close – although the path did get too close for Mike at some points and he began walking further away. It was really beautiful and I could have stayed there all day. The waiter had told us – and so we read – that the lighthouse had actually been moved back from the cliff at great expense, because the cliffs are constantly eroding. Looking down from the one light house, you could actually see another one down a little ways away and in the water.

From here we went on to Birling Gap, which was basically a parking lot and a hotel but you could get down to the beach via stairs. We parked and walked down and so got a view of the cliffs from below. The beaches here in England so far are all rocky but in this case you could tell there was a lot of chalk cliff mixed in with the rocks. Mike wanted to see if the water was cold and lost his dare with the surf and got his sneakers wet. He seemed fascinated by all the rocks and spent time trying to skip stones in the surf and crouching down looking at all the pebbles. I walked a little ways to stand as close to a cliff as I dared and picked up a chalk chunk about the size of my palm to bring back to Mike. I was pretty sure we weren’t allowed to bring anything away with us – but Mike had collected a few rocks plus the one I gave him and wanted to bring them back. At the top of the stairs, though, there was a sign that said not to take anything away with you – alas. Mike tossed his collection away (although he might have snuck one tiny piece). This was also a beautiful place and I could have walked along for quite a while. They did have signs warning about incoming tides, though, so I guess you can get trapped out there if you’re not careful. I don’t imagine trying to get a grip on a chalky, crumbly cliff to keep from being swept out to sea would be easy to do.

Birling Gap is not too far from Brighton, so it only took us a short while to reach our night’s destination. From the direction we were coming, we hit the huge marina first and then the town itself. There’s a big street at the waterfront called the Marine Parade and the whole rest of the city faces that in a higgledy-piggledy jumble. The town reminded me a lot of San Francisco – the architecture is very similar and the streets are steep and narrow and townhouses hug each other quite closely - and occasionally surround a small green or garden. Like San Francisco, the town is also a hub of gay culture in England and we saw plenty of “Toy & Leather” shops along the streets! This spooked Mike out, but not me.

The streets were not very well marked and it was a lost cause trying to find the one our hotel was on, so we called for directions. Our hosts were two young gay French men – one very gregarious and the other very reserved. They were very welcoming and helpful and the gregarious one recommended several places to try for dinner. We stowed our stuff in our small, but nice little room, had a glass of champagne (which we had had waiting for us as a treat), and wandered out into the town – heading towards the Royal Pavilion and an area of twisty lanes and cobbled streets called The Lanes, where there were shops and plenty of places to eat. We caught glimpses of the Royal Pavilion on the way but planned on hitting that the next morning as it was nearly closing time. We managed to find one of the restaurants that our host had recommended but it was closed so we wandered out ocean-side to look for the next. Down by the water (right on the beach and below the Marine Parade), there were all sorts of little cafes and pubs. It was noisier and more rowdy here so we weren’t sure we wanted to eat nearby. Once we found the recommended restaurant we had to remind ourselves that it was a Frenchman that had recommended it. The entrees were things like duck and liver and other assorted scary things at least to this American. So we headed back up to the first restaurant and lo, it was just opening. This was a Spanish tapas place called Casa Don Carlos. We enjoyed ourselves here. I had a glass of sangria and Mike had several glasses of wine (see picture at top). The food was delicious, and the waitresses, although reserved at first, became friendlier and sweeter the longer we stayed. Tapas means you get a lot of little dishes instead of a single entree. We got garlic mushrooms, a plate of manchego slices, mussels in some kind of tomato broth, and the best swordfish I’ve ever tasted. For dessert, we split a Crema Catalana. It was a nice evening and we strolled quite happily back to our hotel, where we finished our bottle of Champagne (or we nearly did anyway), while listening to the many seagulls outside our window and watching an episode of Star Trek and then some of Bulletproof Monk. Fell asleep while listening to a lot of rowdy seagulls!