Originally written 17 May 2010.
There’s been a gap in my traveling life over the last week while I sort, repackage and distribute my life back in reality so it can be shipped cross continent and be frozen, awaiting my return. But I’d rather not think about that right now. Getting out of London is just as hard as getting settled there, and it’s a true testament to the ferocity of the city that I was stressed to my very threshold until the very end of my time there. Moving from resident to tourist hasn’t seemed to have changed my views on the place so perhaps I’ll revisit my opinions later down the track.
In the next leg of my travels it’s time to experience the rest of the United Kingdom. Bristol was described to me as “the Mandurah of London” and the complexities of life certainly are taken down a level. But it was still interesting getting a taste of a British town that hasn’t been pulled, teared, boiled and sooted on in the way London has. It’s not an immediate tourist destination, rather a university town. As I discovered it’s also a centre for the youth of the countryside to act out their sins on a Saturday night, away from the omnipotent eyes of their home town’s residents, I’m guessing. Visually the city is nothing unique over other British urban centres, but the ‘quiet factor’ was somewhat refreshing. Although watching all the shops in town close down at 5pm on a Sunday was very eerie after coming from the buzz and convenience of London. The weekend night life was centralised, student oriented and really reminded me of Perth – for the fact that the streets would spill out with inebriated teens, vomit and abandoned Primark shoes.
Through one of those natural bonding moments you find happening daily in youth hostels we ended up having weekend drinks with a troupe of English language students from Italy, Switzerland, Sweden and Saudi Arabia – courtesy of my sister’s dorm mates. (My dorm mates however, were introverted single travelers in transit who could only express a “hey”.) Everyone in the group was mindful of the world and had a genuine interest in other countries, which made the night that much more fun. Meanwhile the locals, or rather the regional lads and lasses, wrestled with their own slopping waltz of alcohol, overmodulated noise, braincell count and the cold scratchy pavement.
How ironic that backpackers travel the world to experience other cultures but spend their time with people from unrelated parts of the world, who share their apparent interest but never actually interact with true locals. It’s like the first steps towards expatriation.
Our time in Bristol included a trip to nearby Bath. It’s touristy, a little expensive, but a nice little slice of Roman influenced British countryside. The centre attraction is the ruins of an old Roman bath house and temple, and the remainder of the town is mostly built from sandstone, which gives it a clean and preserved look. I can’t really elaborate on the sights because I have actually been there before, but a nice day out anyway. Apparently there was a coffee festival, but no luck finding it.
Posted from Dublin, Dublin City, Ireland.