I’m sitting in bed in Brighton, tuckered out completely. The day was an absolute complete blur of activity, but in the best possible way.
Aleks and I went for a 10K this morning along the Brighton pier. It was absolutely amazing. We chatting while going at a pretty good clip (8:45 per mile), which included an all-out sprint at the end (7:40 seconds).
After, we ate breakfast before one of Aleks’ friends from London came down for a softball lesson. (Seemed she’d signed up for a league despite having a “limited” history of the game.)
The three of us were joined by another of Aleks’ friends in Preston Park, where we played softball for two hours. Amazingly, the woman who had the “limited” history turned out to be one of those natural athletes. She had us chasing balls all over the park during batting practice.
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The weekend brought close my first full week in London. While I’ve enjoyed my time there, it’s no secret I’m not much of a city boy. I’ve found myself in real life moving farther and further away from the big places.
But Friday also meant it was time to pack up and head to Brighton where I’d get the chance to hang with my friend Aleks, with whom I’ve spent little substantial time in the last few years because she was out being awesome.
That meant my first solo train ride in England. Courtesy of the Victoria Station.
The trip was pretty uneventful. It wasn’t crowded and the hour flew by as I read. When I arrived, I was greeted by this sight.
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It’s strange that it takes a few days to re-orient myself in London. Not that I’ve been here often, but I’ve spent more than a month in the last year. Enough that I’m starting to get a sense of the flow. At least in the parts I roam.
I’ll say: running – as it did in Berlin – helps me see parts of the city. I’ve become familiar with the Hyde Park area.
But my love – always my love – is Soho. If I lived here, I suspect I’d need a place that was close. (Although Hyde Park is certainly a close second.)
The main reason: I love Bar Italia. Which is odd, since not only is there no Wifi…there’s not even reception for cell phones in the place. It’s the least tech-friendly place on the planet. (There’s not even room on the counter for a laptop. You can literally do nothing digital in this place.)
Of course, my camera still works.
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My friend Irene made sure we had two floor tickets to Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors tonight at the Globe. It’s difficult for me to explain how amazing this experience was for me.
I’m normally against such “art worship,” but this is one of the few places on earth where the words come to life. Where the snobbery of the theater world is stripped clean by the masses teaming in the front, away from the seats. Where the in-jokes are for the commoners and the art is for everyone.
I have a deep love of Shakespeare. He was one of the first who taught me to love telling stories. To say I was humbled and awed would be an understatement. But those are the words I have.
“I thought it would be larger,” Irene said. I agreed. Then I realized it was perfect. (Also, we noticed that if it rained the show could go on because everything – except the floor seats – was covered.)
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Two years ago, I decided to spend my time at South by Southwest Interactive shuttling newbies around my amazing city and its signature conference. One of the people I can across during this endeavor was Katz, my wonderful hostess this weekend.
As it turned out, she is one of the brains behind the b.tween conference, a confab of media thinkers and producers that moves around the United Kingdom. During our conversations at SXSWi, she invited me to Liverpool to moderate a panel on storytelling. I jumped at the opportunity and soon thus our friendship began.
Like so many friends I’ve met along the road, she’s extremely busy and so our schedules rarely have chance to cross for any extended length of time. Until this weekend. We had three far too short days to spend together, days that – as we discussed this morning – had almost nothing to do with work. Instead we:
- ate possibly the worst meal ever on Friday night with her friend Jo;
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It’s 11 pm and I’m tuckered out. Completely.
My day began dubiously. I awoke at 7 am ready for my run. I dressed, ate and readied myself. I grabbed the key from the kitchen table and…couldn’t figure out how to lock the door behind me. Being American, I assumed you simply put the key in the door, turned the latch and then went about my way.
Not exactly so.
Thirty minutes later, I figured out how to lock the door, freeing me from the bonds of the house. (This required a serious feat of reverse-engineering that I won’t share with you because I had to figure it out and if you come to England you will have to figure it out too.) I headed out with a vague notion of where I might go. Katz showed me the head of Endcliff Park, which sits at the bottom of her hill, but I didn’t know much beyond that.
As it turned out, there was some kind of race – although it was quite small – in the park so I happily ran along side several of the (sprinting) participants, who inadvertently showed me the way through Endcliff Park and into Bingham Park, the next in a series of parks that are connected together.
That’s good news for me as I have a long 15-mile run on Sunday. But the day was just beginning.
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I arrived in Gatwick airport with little trouble.
The S9 from Bornholmer Strasse, now a direct line to Shonefeld airfield, makes getting to the cheaper flights in Berlin so much simpler. There’s no more transferring at Friedrichstrasse, Germany’s largest central train hub (and a confusing nightmare of epic proportions unless you happen to know what you’re doing, which I do not).
The EasyJet airline staff was great, making the flight and ensuing travel easy as well. (Although note to self: I can buy my Gatwick Express tickets on the plane – or on the train – and Oyster travel cards are $1 cheaper on the plane. Also: I keep forgetting that people speak English. I’ve already ordered in German once – zoinks — and pointed at a menu without speaking because I forgot.)
My hotel, the EasyHotel down the street from the Victoria Street Underground, is really just a hostel. There’s a double bed, which takes up the entire room and a small bathroom that has a toilet and shower (which is separated by a rounded curtain that pulls out). It’s quite efficient, but definitely light on amenities. Unless a bed, toilet and shower are amenities to you.
In which case, it’s full of them.
I dropped off my bags around 930 pm (21:30 to the damn Europeans) and headed to Trafalgar Square. I walked past Buckingham Palace to the National Gallery (in Trafalgar Square) and thento Leicester Square for a late night croissant and cappuccino. (Note: the English drink tea for one very good reason. They cannot make cappuccino. I have forgotten this.)
I returned at 0130 and duly crashed. As there is nothing else that can be done in the hotel.
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If you’ve ever traveled outside the country – whatever country you would consider be outside of in relation to the one that you are inside of most often – you know there the horrors of Travel Day.
Whenever you book a trip, you essentially give up an entire day when you’re moving from one location to the next. It’s like going out in Los Angeles. My friend Tim, who until recently was the film editor at the Los Angeles Times, used to say: no matter what you do in L.A., it takes an hour to get there and you start by throwing $50 out the window.
Exactly.
But I’ve grown accustomed to the trials and tribulations of traveling in a place that’s Outside so I plan accordingly. Today, I’m going from one Outside (Berlin) to another Outside (London). That means extra care. I brought an extra $50 of local money (I spent mine today after I forget to check my bags), I showed up early (in case I get lost or forget to check my bags, forcing me to queue a few times) and I stayed calm as things began to unravel ever so slightly around me.
I stayed Zen, that is, until the Germans asked me to step out of line and invited me to step into the back room.
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I’m obsessive when it comes to tracking things. As I’ve traveled Europe the last few years, I’ve kept a list of the places I’ve visited and enjoyed. (Mostly cafes as that’s what I like. Mostly.)
Feel free to browse around. Many of the PEOPLE on the map are friends. Some are interesting places of work. Others are just towns. The coffee cups and beds are cafes and hotels.
Also: if you have any good cafe recommendations (or interesting places), I’m also open.
View EuroTrip in a larger map
Time flies.
The first part of my Euro-adventure is nearly over. Tomorrow at 630 pm Central European Time (that’s +6 to those on the East Coast) I’ll board a plane to London. I’m always amazed at how quickly my time in Berlin flies. And how easily I find settling into a routine with John and Aimee.
To be sure, I miss my desk and my home life. I miss the freedom to roam as I need to and the autonomy of my own space.
But it’s an even trade-off to be in Europe.
England, though, will be something else. I’ll be bouncing around the country. My weekends will involve trips to visit friends (in Sheffield, in Brighton and maybe a third location to visit another Loveland-ite), and my weeks will involve city runs, cafes (Bar Italia in Soho) and visiting with playwrights at The Soho Theater.
It’s a radically different lifestyle than here. One I will need to adjust to quickly if I’m to keep my running life together.
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