Touring England

The south of England doesn’t have any comprehensive bus service so I had to go back to London from Canterbury to go to Brighton, my next destination. Upon arrival in London, I grabbed a quick snack at a café because I was starving and ran to board the bus. When I got there the driver said with a sneer, “No hot food on National Express buses,” and walked away from me, not bothering to load my backpack on the bus. I had just heard him yelling at two other people so I figured he was just mean to everyone. I still had a few minutes before the scheduled departure so I stood outside the doors and shoved my food into my mouth, burning my tongue in the process. When it was still two minutes to 1pm, the driver looked at me and said rudely, “Any time you’re ready there sweetheart. Don’t rush yourself.” I could have hit him – I still had two minutes left! I tossed the last remnants into my mouth and went to board the bus, but the driver first made me walk all the way back to the terminal to throw out the paper the pastry had been in, as if it would contaminate the garbage bag on board. We ended up not leaving on time anyway. The two people who the driver had been yelling at came back and he grudgingly accompanied them to the office to sort out the problem. He kept grumbling about how he had to leave on time and we were putting him behind. I wanted to point out that National Express buses usually run about ten minutes late anyway, but I thought he might actually hit me.

When I got to Brighton, I found my dump of a hostel easily, and headed out to call home for Sam’s birthday. When I dialed the phone card number, the voice came on and said I had insufficient credit to make the call. What? I had just bought a 5pound phone card and I’d only called home for 20 minutes. I’m supposed to get 300 minutes. I was pissed and called the customer service rep to take it out on him. He explained that calling from a payphone incurs a 20pence per minute surcharge. I said that it doesn’t say that anywhere on the card and doesn’t say that when you dial the number, which usually it does. “It says it in the fine print on the poster,” he retorted. Of course it would be in the fine print. Isn’t it always? I started going on about how that should be clearer and asked if there was a way around it by using a local access number like I did in OZ and NZ. He told me that once I dialed from a payphone, no matter what number I used, it would incur a surcharge. I was livid. He suggested I use a friend or relative’s landline or mobile to make the call. I wanted to reach through the phone and wring his neck. Did he think if I had another phone to use I’d be calling customer service to complain? “I have no access to any other phone but a payphone…obviously,” I said. “You should really make phone cards for people calling from payphones. They’re the ones who usually use them anyhow,” I added. We had reached a stalemate – there was no way to remedy the situation so he said, “I’m sorry ma’am,” and I said, “Thanks,” and hung up. I felt like a jerk for yelling at him as he was only a customer service rep and not the genius behind the sneaky 20pence per minute surcharge scheme but someone had to take the brunt of my wrath and that time it fell on him. Suffice it to say; no one will hear my voice for a while.

Brighton is known as the home of the “dirty weekend” and I arrived on a Saturday so I should have gone out and enjoyed myself but instead I read in my room. England is way too expensive to do anything – anything at all. The pound to dollar at the moment is two to one so my money immediately halves in value. The prices here are the same as at home except it costs double because I’m on dollars not pounds. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I almost have a breakdown every time I buy dinner, debating incessantly if I should go for the Subway sub of the day again for 1.99pounds or an actual meal for a pound or two more. It takes me longer to decide what to eat than to actually eat it, and I feel guilty no matter what I decide, like I shouldn’t be eating at all. Accommodation is the same. I drive myself mad trying to find cheap rooms online. The cheapest I’ve come across is 10pounds, which is still 20USD a night, which really isn’t so cheap when you think about it. Can someone please do something about the value of the dollar so I don’t end up panhandling by day and sleeping on the street by night?

I spent a few days in Brighton just bumming around town and walking the Brighton Pier, basically a carnival on the water. My last night I looked out my hostel window to see the sun setting over the water, and I ran outside to get a few pictures. On my way back, I looked across to see a huge sign reading: “Ricky Gervais Tonight” at Brighton Center. I love Ricky Gervais, and I immediately ran over to see if I could get a last minute ticket. The opening act was set to start at 7:30 and it was 7:15 so I was right on time. The counter lady told me they only had limited viewing (due to a handrail) seats left and they were 25pounds. I thought that was a little much but decided to follow my whim, took the ticket anyway and charged it. Good old credit cards. Besides, I was in need of a good night of comedy. Gervais was hysterical and my favorite part of the show was when the mic broke unexpectedly. I think a true comic should be able to handle the unplanned with humor and he pulled it off brilliantly. I walked out of the theater totally pleased that I’d be at the right place at the right time for once.

I took the bus back to London the next day and the underground to my hostel. I had forgotten to check the address of the hostel but remembered how to get there so I figured I’d wing it. I walked out of New Cross Gate station, made a left and continued on down the street. After a bit of walking, I stopped into an internet café to check the address to make sure I was at least walking in the right direction. It turned out the hostel was two doors down…if only I’d walked another 30 seconds, but my impatience got the best of me. I headed out immediately to start my London sightseeing. I started at London Tower, but decided to forgo the tour because they were charging 16pounds – that’s 32USD…the nerve of them just to see some lousy crown jewels. Pictures from the outside were good enough for me. I then made my way over the impressive Tower Bridge and walked along South Bank toward the not so impressive London Bridge. I found the reconstructed Globe Theater and took a fantastic guided tour. The guide was funny and full of information. The reconstructed theater is beautiful and as authentic as you can get without actually being the original. They recreated the theater exactly how it had been in Shakespeare’s time and even used all of the same materials such as oak for the whole building and thatch for the roof. Unfortunately plays at the Globe don’t commence until May, otherwise I would have inquired about tickets.