From the Hotel we headed straight toward the Royal Pavilion, a building that is vaguely reminiscent of the Taj Mahal. What it is doing in the center of Brighton, one will never know (scholars maintain that it was built long before the conquering of the British empire by the anglo-saxons in1135, further suggesting it was built around the turn of a millennium, which one? one will never know (scholars suggest the year 1000 is as good an estimate as anyone is going to make))(note: for those of you unfamiliar with British History, I literally just made all that up).As mentioned before, it was a beautifully sunny day. The air was of the perfect temperature and there was general good cheer all around. We looked around the Pavilion for a time, saw that there was an entrance fee of 32 pounds (slight exaggeration, but pshaw! nevertheless), and decided to sit on the grass and just enjoy the afternoon. We were surprisingly tired after the 3 minute walk from the Hotel D' Awesome and the grass felt cool and reassuring beneath us. It was a welcome treat. Nearby there was an outdoor cafe serving frothy cups of enlightenment, but these lazy legs could not be pulled from the spot where they were stuck. So, instead, we just sat around, in a bit of a circle, and watched the people go by.
I remember one moment quite clearly (indeed, I believe as it was transpiring I thought about how to word it in my blog (have I, then, lost all sense of reality? am I so lost in my own head that I have become detached from the normal world? is it I that is that pretentious egotist staring off into space concerning himself only with himself? is there any way I can add another meaningless rhetorical question to this already unimportant and, more than likely, sleep inducing digression? (that's enough))) Well, if you are still with me, let me relate. I was lying, quite angelically if I do say so myself, on my back with my hands placed behind my head staring into the trees that were just a few yards in front of me. The others, too, I think were lying silently around me as if a sleeping drug had been inserted into the deep fried shrimp (or maybe it was just a drowsy drug, because none of us were sleepy). The sun was slowly moving down toward the trees that my eyes had just become accustomed to. I remember watching the sun sink lower and lower and just thinking how quickly time moves. It was inescapable. Soon this moment would be gone. Soon these people would go. Soon nothing would be left but our memories (phew, I am getting awfully cornrifically reminiscent in these last few entries). I remember looking at the image now created as the sun sparkled behind the top leaves of those tall trees. It was such a beautiful image with such a depressing connotation. It signified the beginning of the end. It was soon that sun would fall. It was soon we would go home. It was startling then when I came out of my trance to see the rays of sun dancing on my colleagues smiling faces. Had they not just experienced a deeply profound realization? Had they not just become nihilist in the twenty minutes we were lying on the grass in silence? I suppose not. Thank God. My thoughts now diverted, I looked around to see them each enjoying this moment simply for it's simplicity. Satisfied, I put my head back against the grass and let the sun do it's dance across my smiling face. (I should note that as I wrote that last paragraph I was listening to Iron & Wine (for those who do not know, Iron & Wine is as soft as indie folk can get, and that is saying something), which may contribute to my introspective laziness. Also, perhaps for my pretentious tone. And most definitely for it's evocative sappiness. Maybe I'll listen to some funk.)
I was feeling particularly groovy when we removed ourselves from our hippy circle and decided to head to the Marina. It was a pretty significant walk from the Pavilion to the Marina, but we were up for it after sitting for about an hour, so we undertook it. We walked down to a path that leads to the Marina, and found it, as per usual, to be more than lovely. It was afternoon now, and the sun was just beginning to orange ever so slightly. It played beautifully with the waves of the sea, sparkling so spectacularly. It was no wonder our conversations were often hindered by our long longing looks out to sea. Sometimes I would walk along side another one of my fellow travelers, discussing this and that, often, though, I would fall back behind the group and just admire the beauty of the situation.
We made it to the Marina, which to me seemed more like it's own entity than a part of Brighton. It held a giant ASDA (Wal-Mart basically), a gas station, lovely looking flats, numerous pubs and restaurants, and the cheapest looking most expensive car wash I've ever seen (It was literally a guy with a hose and a bucket of soap charging something like 10 pounds (no exaggeration) for a 'DELUXE' wash). We procured a pint at a local pub and sat in the sunshine excited to enjoy the rest of the day.
The pint was put back hastily and we decided, though lovely, the marina was a bit too noisy and it was time to head back to the train station. We took our time heading back, nearly criss-crossing (Jump! Jump! (anyone?)) through the city. It was pleasant enough, as the sun was fulling fading now, it caused beautiful shadows from east facing walls to engulf us in their outward stretching. In time, we reached the top of a particular hill that overlooked the city centre and the train station. It was here we jumped onto a little wall and bit greedily into our store bought sandwiches and watched the sun fall behind the buildings that were situated across a little valley and atop another hill in front of us. We sat in relative silence. In a more than perfect symbol, the sun was slowly setting on our journey. It had been a more than congenial companion. And now, with its last grasp of light still reaching just above those buildings across the way, we wiped the crumbs from our hands and walked down the incline before us toward the station. I looked up during the descent and saw the sun, without pomp, slip behind the building, out of sight, but it's presence still known. I thought, without pomp, what a perfect way to end the day*.
*and a blog entry (I really wanted to put that in there but I thought a poetic pause (what?!) was called for)
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