A Spanish puente (long weekend) last week lead me to do a short trip in London and Bristol. In this post I’ll focus on Bristol, a city in south-west England. What led me there? An audacious and somewhat vulgar girl (I’ve never heard anyone speak so much about their private parts) who I’d met in Tel Aviv, Israel. We’d met in the hostel and along with a few others she’d helped me have a hell of a 27th birthday in the Holy Land.
I waited for her at the train station, feeling far away from the English capital. It was exciting to know that I was one of the few tourists in such a large city (more than 400,000 people). I also wondered if my weekend would be anything like Skins, standing in the very city where the series is filmed.
Before I’d even dropped my bags Carly took me to a bar/lounge to grab some dinner and a muchly needed drink. They had mulled cider. OM(FUCKING)G. After freezing my bum off the last couple days in London and continuing to do so in Bristol, this was heaven. I had a lentil and pumpkin dish, loving the fact that I could stick to vegetarianism when away from my small town in Spain. The place made me feel like I was right back in Melbourne with the hipsters and young ones. Think along the lines of Grumpy’s Green or The Penny Black. Anywhere in Brunswick, really. Before our plates had even been licked, Carly had run into about 100 of her friends (is this their meeting spot?) Then apparently we were off later to a place called Motion (electro, dub, house, etc).
We took a taxi back to her house (they take heaps o’ taxis in Bristol since the most you’ll pay in the city is a 10’er) and fuck it was cold (about 4 degrees). My poor little bones. Carly’s house was a double storey cute thing, similar to my old place in Northcote. Fireplaces galore and carpet that had seen better days. But this house was warm inside, I needed warm.