We began our tour of the seaside destination with a visit to The Royal Pavilion. From what was once a humble farm house, King George IV built this bright white Indian palace for his long-time lover and used it as a place to entertain important guests. The exotic dove-colored domes and decorative windows seem almost sacred their monochromatic glory.
However, the simplicity of the exterior color palate is not echoed inside the palace, which is teeming with the Asian artifacts of the Chinoiserie style of decoration. Gilded wood bamboo carvings lace up the walls, ceilings are covered in intricate, vibrant and verdant paintings. Dazzling dragons clutch huge chandeliers in their scaly claws and dangle them over the banquet table.
Upstairs, the King's personal chambers are adorned in plush turquoise and gold textiles, which are much more subdued yet still very luxurious. The second floor of the Pavilion also houses a small tearoom and terrace where Chris, some friends and I stopped to have a cup of tea along with a fresh fruit scone topped with clotted cream and strawberry jam. I at once felt very English and very satisfied.
After scarfing down the last few crumbs of scone and strawberry jam, we headed next to the area of Brighton known as The Lanes. This crowded, cobble-paved, twisted tract of land is home to countless bright and cheery shop exteriors, dozens of which drip with hanging flower baskets and gaudy gold jewelry.
It was within this dizzying maze of shops that I found my version of heaven on earth. It was called Fizzywizzy and it was glorious in all of its colorful confectionery goodness. The shelves of this sweet shop were lined with clear jars of candy made in every hue and flavor imaginable.
After much deliberation, I decided on a bag of "handmade lime sugar crystals" (lime flavored sugar), which I happily munched on throughout the day.
Our final destination for the day was the whitewashed wonder of the Brighton Pier, which hovered like a memory over the sun-bleached blue of the water.
From the moment I set foot on the creaking wooden boards, I felt as though I was walking through a haze of salty sea water that gently filtered all of my surroundings. It felt vaguely Victorian.
I was, however, eventually awakened out of my stupor by yet another dose of pure sugar in the form of cotton candy—or as they call it here, candy floss. I never pass up a chance to eat cotton candy, and apparently Chris felt the same way.
After I fended off the attack of my friends and the seagulls who descended upon my delicious sugary treat, we decided to ride our sugar high straight to the bumper cars arcade. Bright, flashy gold token booths hungrily awaited our one pound coins and spewed out in return the three tokens we needed in order to crash into each other in miniature cars.
We ended our time on the pier by descending onto the soft grey gravel of the beach, where we ordered and enjoyed a basket of chips (french fries) and malt vinegar. Chips never taste as good as when they are fried to perfection and marinated in the briny wind of the ocean.
As we climbed wearily back onto the big red bus that was to take us home, my mind was drawn to the exciting events of the day, but where it lingered most was on the images that colored my mind with thoughts of rich red tapestries, winter white minarets. painted pastel skies and bright blue shopfronts.
