On the wrong side of the (smoking) law

When I was in the UK, I wanted to see as many friends as possible. "Come to Brighton," suggested KR, so I came. After a suitably decadent Friday night, KR was up brighton early (sorry!) to go to work, and I was at the train station. With a lamentably heavy "overnight" bag. (My packing problems are documented here, and here). In the rain.

I was only due back in London that evening but, despite my heavy load and the shite weather, I was tempted to spend the day exploring Brighton. First up, I asked a policeman at the station if there was anywhere to leave my bag. Now, KR had already informed me that there wasn´t, but I figured there was no harm in a second opinion. The policeman dispelled any lurking doubts with a brusque retort: "We don´t have lockers. Terrorists are likely to put a bomb in them."

I was tempted to reply: "And Eid Mubarak to you to sir," for it was indeed Eid, but figured that wouldn´t go down too well.

I decided to have a cigarette while I pondered my plans for the day. I went and stood outside the station, but under the shelter, due to the rain. At which point the policeman chased after me, to inform me that the station was a no-smoking area. Apparently, you can´t just be outside the actual building to smoke, you have to walk a few metres to outside the station gates, because what I took to be outside is still technically part of the station.

Pernickety fucking Brits. In Zurich, you can smoke in the train station itself. However, I duly had my cigarette outside in the rain, as I am scared to death of the British police. Gone is the image of the friendly bobby from my childhood; instead I live in fear that one of the paranoid freaks will randomly gun me down just because.

The altercation had put me in a defiant mood. "Damn my packing skills, and the bloody weather," I reasoned: "When am I ever likely to be in Brighton again?" So I set off for the pier weighed down by my bag, but buoyed up by an intrepid spirit.

Second visit

3 September 2007

I hadn´t even been here a fortnight when I received my second visitor, Rude Larry, who arrived from Dubai via Zurich. I was still a Liech newbie at the time, so we explored together, which meant we headed to The Castle Inn to drink some beer.

Then we wandered around Vaduz; looked at the princely castle from afar - it seemed too much of an effort to walk up to it; and went for a stroll by the Rhein - my default entertainment for visitors. Hardly a big day out, but I suspect Rude Larry was happy as his namesake that the Kunstmuseum is closed on Mondays.

To liven things up a bit I booked us a ride on the Citytrain (actually a bus, go figure!). So we spent half an hour driving around to all the places which we had already seen by foot, accompanied by commentary that was hilarious in German, amusing in French, and rather less entertaining by the time we listened to the English version. Not 10 Francs I´ll be spending again in a hurry.

Time to sup and suip. We ate at a sedate local "pub" and then ventured off to another one down the road, that F-X had informed me was a little more "rough". It was, if possible, even more sedate than the first one. "Sedate" as in the other clientele seemed more likely to be mistaken for our grandparents than our parents. So we gave up the hunt for a party; drank some wodka (actually it was rum & coke, I just wanted to use the word "wodka"); and reminisced about the good old bad old days at the House of Earthly Delights.

Whenever I see the Citytrain, I think of Rude Larry... Don´t forget about the prize on offer for my 20th visitor. And why would you want to visit? Keep reading my blog for future posts about wild student parties: featuring Hungarian wine, Italian cheese and hot Czech girls.

Visitor count: Mim, Pim, Rude Larry (3)

Random fact of the week

At Zurich Hauptbahnhof you have to pay to use the toilets. They´re maintained by a company called McClean.

The facilities are indeed sparkling clean. But it costs CHF1 to use them if you´re a guy, and a whole CHF2 if you´re a woman. This didn´t make me feel clean, even when I was sitting on the cute little chair in front of the pristine mirror and powdering my nose to get my money´s worth; it made me feel that it´s a pretty dirty thing to be female.