~ A feel of history – that’s how I view this day-long visit to the seaside resort city of Brighton, a relaxing one-and-a-hour train ride from London. The beach wasn’t far from the station. As soon as I took sight of the sea – the English Channel – my mind wandered to the time nearly 70 years ago when men geared for one of the bloodiest battles in history, the invasion of Normandy. Though not a war site, Brighton is one of the important towns along the coast of the English Channel, the sea artery that separates England from mainland Europe. The Channel was the staging area for the invasion.
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BRIGHTON, England – Crossing the English Channel from this resort city to Normandy in France wasn’t part of the plan but once here, it’s hard to not imagine the invasion by the Allied Powers on the pre-dawn hours of June 6, 1944 against the well-entrenched Germans behind what was then believed to be an impenetrable Atlantic Wall.
As a student of history and military tactics, the invasion is of utmost interest to me. The best military minds of belligerent nations were pitted against each other and had drawn up battle plans to wrest control of Europe from falling into German hands or allowing it to stay with Adolf Hitler’s Third Reich.
Brighton is one of the coastal towns along the Channel (Manche in French), the 560-kilometer long seaway that separates southern England from northern France. The Channel was where the “largest amphibious assault ever|” was launched by the Allied Powers against Germany.
At Brighton this Sunday before noon of May 25, the clouds had given way to the sun, which shone brightly across the sea that’s 240 kilometers at its widest and 33.1 kilometers at its narrowest in Calais, giving one an idea how thousands of Allied troops weathered the elements to reach the opposite side only to be slaughtered.
Locals said France could be seen on a clear day from that distance. It didn’t matter that the view was fuzzy, it was enough for me to know I was standing on England’s soil where the beginning of the end of Hitler’s Germany had commenced.
I spent most of the afternoon visualizing that day I came to know only by reading books and watching documentaries and movies, notably Saving Private Ryan. I imagined the staggering cost in human lives in the costly attempt to break through from the English Channel to France, and I felt sorry for the carnage that followed.
Many beach-goers here likely came for a little bit of history and the carnival fun. Brighton, however, is also famous for its Royal Pavilion, the former royal residence and seaside retreat of the Prince of Wales, later King George IV. The story goes that he conducted his liaisons there with long-time companion Maria Anne Fitzherbert.
On Brighton’s pebble-strewn beach, people soaked in the sun, shopped for bargains in many souvenir stores and enjoyed a relaxing time with family and friends at the fair. The whole city is actually in a festive mood due to the ongoing Brighton Fringe, England’s largest mixed arts festival.
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I visited the Google offices in central London last week and had a quick tour capped by a lunch at its cafeteria. I can’t help but be awed by what I was told: an eat-all-you-can meal there costs nothing for employees and their guests.
The cafeteria is like a full-service restaurant, bigger than ordinary, as it serves, night and day, hundreds of employees working in its many departments.
The food choices change every day. Each day, the cafeteria lays down three categories of meals, all of them fitting the description of healthy.
On the day of my visit, I had two varieties of fish, French bread and vegetable salad. On my second serving, I took pasta and hamburger and a can of Coca-cola. For dessert, I had fresh strawberry and banana. My lunch was quite filling!
And that’s just one of the perks. A gym in one of the floors enable employees to exercise and stretch out from grinding work. It’s a good way to relax.
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LONDON – I’d photographed and video-recorded London by walking through its significant parts in July through September 2012. The Olympic Games were on at that time, so the capital was literally bursting at the seams with hundreds of thousands of people from many different countries.
I went to revisit some of the places again since my arrival two weeks ago and found a number of barely-noticeable changes in the giant landscape that account for why this metropolis is dynamic.
I walked the distance from Westminster – the underground train station that opens to Parliament Square where Big Ben greets with a ding dong – to Buckingham Palace along Victoria Street through Buckingham Palace Road for a snack of pancit palabok in a small Filipino restaurant I knew existed.
I thought I forgot its exact location, so I walked back and around. I remember the corner street where many Filipinos gathered and waited to shop for groceries and home-cooked dishes. Well, it’s gone, replaced by a souvenir store. The South Asian tenant said the place was sold to him last year.
That was quite a disappointment. My craving for pancit – any pancit now – had not been fulfilled until I saw this new Chinese restaurant as I continued the walk to Buckingham Palace. It boasted having the best noodles in that part of town, just short of a kilometer to the main gate of the queen’s residence.
I got in and ordered the plate of noodles nicely pictured in the menu. In less than five minutes my order came. They cooked fast, I mumbled, and took a picture.
For £8 (about $15 Canadian) I thought it was reasonable. But as I stabbed the mound of noodles with chopsticks, I quickly realized it wasn’t what I thought it was. The small prawns, a stem of cilantro and about five slices of green pepper made the meal look appetizing.
But the noodles – curled noodles – I swear, were from the cup of noodles that sell three-for-a-dollar in Dollarama. I’m quite adept at doing that, simply by having a mix of fresh vegetables, shrimps and chicken stewed in a pan with two or three cups of ramen, and voila . . .
Anyway, I showed my exasperation by taking all the change from the £10-bill I paid them with and promptly left. Never again would I come here, I vowed. But, of course, I ate everything in the plate; who wouldn’t when one’s hungry? Besides, I was walking back to Westminster station and needed the energy.
I see new high-rise structures being built along Victoria Street, one of the road arteries that passes through Westminster City Hall, Westminster Cathedral, Westminster Abbey and finally to Parliament Square. A spanking new edifice has risen near the headquarters of New Scotland Yard, London’s Metropolitan Police Force.
The streets are always busy with people and vehicular traffic. Nothing stops. Crossing the street is an adventure and an experience. Motorists drive on the left-hand side of the road, and drivers sit on the right side of the vehicle – both of which are confusing for non-Londoners like me.
An unwritten rule seems to apply also on pedestrian lanes and sidewalks. One walks on the left-hand side. In underground stations, it goes the same – foot traffic is always on the left.
I took a taxi once. The driver got off to load my luggage. Meanwhile I walked to what I knew to be the passenger seat beside the driver. Of course I was wrong and realized it upon seeing the steering wheel. But the driver was surprised. He probably thought I was going to run away with his car! #
