This weekend I went to Brighton. It was the first time I had been outside of London (with the exception of Scotland) since arriving here three months ago. As soon as I stepped off the train I found I could breath all the way in without falling into a hacking cough. Oh clean air, how I’ve missed you. I also realized that I haven’t seen a legitimate hill in quite a while. Everything is so flat in London. And instead of the constant sound of sirens, there was the constant sound of seagulls. Slightly more pleasant.

Anyway, Brighton is lovely. Full of really nice seaside pubs and shops and people. It’s got the whole British seaside town thing going for it, but has a different feel. Like the pavilion above- it’s a giant Indian looking building right by the sea. Completely weird and appropriate. I was graciously hosted by a friend, so was able to see bits of the town that I probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Especially because I’m a really lazy tourist and don’t visit things on my own volition. Like, remember the time I went to the British Museum and didn’t see the Rosetta Stone? Yeah.

(The last picture is not of Brighton, but the decidedly less picturesque view from my window in Dalston. The sunset was just really nice.)