My Cup of Tea

This week Spain celebrated one of its many holidays. My friend Anna and I capitalized on Columbus’ discovery of America by visiting the Mothership, England, and my friend Leif, who is studing at the University of Sussex in Brighton.

It is sort of a struggle to travel out of Granada. The closest reasonably priced airport is Malaga, two hours away by bus. After waiting an hour for the next ride, a group of Germans came up to us and desperately asked for help, since they could tell we speak English (I still haven’t mastered the Spanish appearance). This bus was all sold out, and they needed to be on it in order to catch their flight from Malaga. They offered us twenty euros each to buy our tickets, and asked us if we could converse in Spanish with other passengers since they needed one more ticket. In the end, we gladly gave up our tickets to help these poor travelers, and used our growing language skills to find them a third ticket. We stayed in Granada until the next bus with a warm fuzzy feeling in our hearts, and also justified many of our future English pub expenditures on the fact that we made 20 free euros. Who said Karma can’t be subsidized?

After staying a night in Malaga, I flew to Brighton and was greeted by the first real rain I’ve seen in several months. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be cold. I was also greeted by a lengthy interrogation at customs, as the lady seemed suspicious of my Spanish residency (my extended Visa has not gone through yet). I will say, however, that being harshly questioned is almost charming when done in a British accent.

Leif met me at the train station, and since Anna was on a later flight, we spent some time walking around Brighton, seeing his house, and eating at an Indian buffet. England was a big culture shock coming from Spain. I can’t count the number of times I almost got run over after looking the wrong way for cars. I also kept planning out Spanish phrases to use in interactions—such as buying tickets or ordering at restaurants—before I remembered that I could use English here. (I have to say, though, at times I can understand Spanish better than a thick British accent). When all the stores were still open at 2 pm I couldn’t believe it, since I’ve become so accustomed to siesta times. And although I’ve heard that England has notoriously bad food, I was in gastronomic heaven. I had forgotten how much I missed typical food from home like paninis, salads, bagels and Indian lunch buffets.

Gotta have the typical British telephone booth picture!

Brighton looks like San Francisco!

The next day Leif had class, so Anna and I set out on our own excursions. My dad studied for two years at Sussex, and told us of a small town to the east of Brighton called Lewes that is supposedly very charming. We caught a double-decker bus to Lewes, and sat behind the most adorable British couple who kept pointing out landmarks along the way. Riding on the second story of British buses is like getting a sight-seeing tours for free, especially when the locals point out everything from old prisons to soccer fields throughout the ride. 

        Lewes was like a fairytale. It was everything I had imagined England to be—views of rolling green hills with grazing sheep, old stone castles, tiny specialty shops with names like “Cheese Please” and “Wickle.” (What does Wickle even mean?? It might be a British term). There were homemade fudge shops on almost every corner, and the houses were adorable. Basically I’m moving to Lewes when I retire.

A sign outside a little bakery--we definitely followed its advice.

Anna at one of the many fudge shops.

      We had afternoon tea at Wickle. I’m not sure why America didn’t adopt England’s tea tradition, but we are missing out since it is quite frankly the classiest custom ever created.

 Afternoon Tea—ginger cake, cucumber and hummus sandwiches, and fairy cakes. Why call it a mini cupcake when you could call it a fairy cake? The Brits are so cute.

On Friday morning we took a train to London. Of course the first thing we did was search out Platform 9 ¾, which was sadly moved due to construction between Platforms 9 and 10. Luckily Hogwarts is still accessible from outside King’s Cross Station.

Finally going to my dream school.

Seeing as the most important part of the trip was therefore accomplished, we then took a leisurely tour through the city center. I had no concept of how big London was, and it was a shock coming from Granada, which I thought of as a city but, compared to London, is more like a rural village. I naively thought we could see all the sights on foot, getting in some good exercise along the way. Twenty minutes into that plan and barely a block further, we invested in some unlimited subway passes and didn’t regret it for a second.

These street signs are very helpful in London.

Because it seems like we did a billion things in two short days in London, here are the highlights:

 

Borough Outdoor Market under the London Bridge—Like Santa Barbara’s farmer’s market on crack. (I had an English pot pie for lunch! So quaint.)

Crossing the River Themes via an underground tunnel, from our hostel into Greenwich. 

Standing on the Meridian Line in Greenwich Park!

Taking a London Walking Tour on Saturday which covered Buckinham Palace, St. James’ Palace, 

Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and many more old and royal places.

Seeing the London Eye at night. 

The neighborhood of Notting Hill (since I recently watched the movie), and another outdoor market called Portabello Market.

Walking across the Tower Bridge.

A quick pass through some museums, so we didn’t appear too uncultured: the Victoria and Albert Museum, the National Gallery, the Natural History Museum (pictured above--and full of dinosaurs!) and the Science Museum. All the admissions were free—socialism is awesome.

And as a farewell treat, we finally ate burritos. The first burrito I’ve had since California. Monuments, museums, and British accents aside, the burrito made the trip worthwhile (as did the sign they hung up in the restaurant, see above). 

I loved my trip to England, and it even made me a bit homesick. It’s so similar (relatively) to the U.S. I really did forget small comforts like knowing what all the signs say, eating familiar food, and seeing parks. (Who knew that would be a comfort? There is a noticeable lack of grass in Spain). However, I was also excited to go back to what is quickly feeling like home, partly because of the absurd exchange rate of the British Pound, and also because I really do love Granada. Anna and I practically jumped a guy in our hostel who was speaking Spanish, simply to get a little taste of home. (Also a week in England set my Spanish skills back about a year--but it was worth it!!!)