Pimm's O'clock

ENGLAND Aug 3- Aug 12

Kent. 

My arrival in England is quiet. A friendly cab driver transports us from southend airport to a neighboring town of Basildon where we've booked a hotel to lay our heads before our morning jump off to the countryside. 

Amenities I appreciate after a week at a seaside camp: Clean white towels, bathmat that isn't made of dirt, and a mattress that is thick enough that you can't feel the pebbled ground through the stuffing. The next morning Jodie whips into the parking lot in her left side drive black Mercedes and we zoom off in style, exiting the sleepy industrial town that was home for only 12 hours. 

Kent is the garden of England. Tiny villages each dotted with their own pubs. Eythorne becomes our home for most of our stay. 

This is Jodie's hometown.  The Pearson family and local crew welcome us with open arms and instigate many nights of properly laying on the drink.  We learn about Pimm's O'clock which is a phrase to describe anytime you drink Pimm's, a sugary drink popular in the UK. From the taps of The Crown Pub we enjoy an endless flow of beer and white wine spritzers. I take a shot of tequila, sambuca and Tabasco.  Yes, it's even more awful than it sounds. Never again. 

In daylight, Jodie brings us around to some local historical sites. Canturbury takes on a magical ambiance as we dine with jacket potatoes (british baked potatoes) along a trickling stream. We sit where women presumed witches used to be dunked and drowned. A morbid English history with a fairytale present. Canterbury is a delight.

Next, Dover castle. It looks out upon the Dover port. France calls our attention in the distance, appearing as a thin film of land resting on top the water. Given its proximity to mainland Europe, this castle is the site of many famous battles thoughout time and is often referred to as the "Key to England."

The Pearson family takes us out for a day of fun at the beach. Such a highlight as we get to watch Jodie's nieces play in the sand.  We hit up Broadstairs pavilion for cider and cocoa. I try my first pickled whelk, a sea snail soaked in vinegar. I will not be craving this Kent "delicacy" anytime soon. 

Next is Botany Bay, a sleepy beach 

surrounded by white chalky cliffs. A special location to end our outing for the day. 

We round out the countryside stay with a girls night of dinner and a chick flick  at Jodie's home in Alkham, the apple tree cottage. Its sits atop a spacious property and is filled with dreams of renovation and expansion. The downstairs is gutted but the contrasting upstairs encases a pristine blend of modern taste with restorative care to the ancient light switches and beautiful deep chocolate brown wooden floors. 

Punctuated amongst the activities of this visit, we catch up on every level that good friends should. I develop a relationship with Jodie's family and friends that I will forever cherish. A friendship that began in Bali two years ago now multiplies as I fall in love with  villages and the people that make this stay so special. 

Bournemouth.

The next chapter of my English experience takes me to Bournemouth.  This is a coastal town home to locals and vacationers soaking up some seaside on their August holiday. Here I get to see my Western friend Tara. Go Vikings!  

Tara and and her hubby, Josh, live in a studio flat, so we squeeze in real cozy for a weekend with my new "roommates." 

On my first full day, Josh takes me to a fancy hotel patio for lunch where we watch kite boarders and enjoys the cool breezes sweeping from the bay. 

That eve, we dine at the local Indian food joint, and scuffle off to taste some spirits at the funky local  bars.

Saturday merits a day drinking adventure. We head for the obligatory weekend morning bloody marys at slug and lettuce and post up real tough at a little bar that reminds us both of the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle. Variations of Moscow mules flow... I order the Cuban mule: rum replaces vodka. 

Timely and spicy libations properly prep our palates for a pre-funk at our flat. Like true WWU Vikings we educate Josh on our shotgunning skills. 

Yate's bar ushers us up the steps where we cut the rug UP. On our walk to the stop, Aruba, we show off our stealthy roundhouse kick skills. Someone (who will not be named) ends up face down on the cement. After a good laugh we dance if off and make the timely decision to night cap with kebobs. Happy little vikings we are.

The next day is sluggish, so we snuggle up on the couch to watch the entire first season of Broadchurch, an english murder mystery. Craving a greasy dinner, we gobble up take away fish and chips.

Bournemouth is a beautiful town, even more enjoyable with the fabulous and welcoming friends that make my visit so ridiculous.  Someday they will move back to the US of A and we can roundhouse kick ourselves into embarrassment stateside.

My galavantings in England come to and end. Onward to the Netherlands to enjoy a little tiny nation that packs the punch with its deep history and bad ass culture.