A Visitor

Seeing Bristol again for the first time.

This time it was I who was the visited one. After a long, solid week at work I was delighted to have a fun weekend, hosting the newly Britanised Brad. He had successfully landed himself accommodation and employment within a fortnight of being in London, so he was due for a celebratory holiday in the Westcountry.

I made my way down to the Marlborough Street Bus Station to meet Brad at around 10:00pm on Friday evening. He had boarded his bus after leaving work, so he had only his camera and a small bag, which meant that rather than trekking all the way back to my place to dump his stuff, we could hang out in the City Centre without being too bogged down with baggage. We walked toward the Centre Promenade, as I pointed out the sights, some of which were too dark to see: Castle Park, Bordeaux Quay, Millennium Square. We eventually ended up at a pub I had been to once before, The Penny Farthing, where I managed to grab us a pint each of scrumpy, before the barmaid rang the 11:00 bell. I was a bit surprised by this, since licensing laws in the UK had changed a few years ago, and pubs were typically allowed to stay open later than the traditional 11:00 (especially on a Friday night). As we sat sipping our ciders discussing the week's events, the staff began the process of moving customers along, and by 11:30, after having to quickly guzzle our drinks (the barmaid wasn't keen on seeing good cider go to waste), we were out on the street.

We made the gradual uphill walk to my place where there awaited two Scotch eggs. Brad had never before indulged in this English delicacy. I think he liked it, especially after adding the Canadian touch of maple syrup, which I must say is highly recommended. We watched a bit of the BBC, whilst attempting in vain to inflate the air mattress with self-contained footpump that I had purchased the day before. We had taken turns stomping on this thing for about ten minutes before we realised there was a small piece that needed to be added before it would work.

In the morning I set to work making a Full English Breakfast. I had only made one at home once before. Luckily I had the foresight to purchase all the makings the day before: Westcountry free range eggs, stoneground bread (toasted), smoked bacon, onion and butter sausages, mushrooms, tomato, and good old Heinz baked beans.

By early afternoon we were walking off the breakfast as we headed toward the Downs, and the Clifton Suspension Bridge, the obligatory first stop of a daylight tour of Bristol. We stopped in at the Clifton Observatory to take in the camera obscura and Giant's Cave. The camera obscura was definitely worth the £2 admission fee. At the top of the tower is a small dark room with a small opening at the top. In the centre of the room is a round navel-high table with a concave white top. Once one's eyes adjust the bent image of the outside world appears on the white disc, and a handle allows the viewer to turn the camera 360° to see the bridge, Leigh Woods, Clifton Village and Bristol beyond.

We then descended into the Giant's Cave, which was one not for claustrophobics or tall people, which luckily Brad and I were not. At the bottom was the somewhat anticlimactic platform above the Portway, looking down to the River Avon and up toward the Clifton Suspension Bridge. We seemed more interested in reading the graffiti left by visitors from around the world than the view out.

Back at the top of the Gorge, we decided to brave the natural rock slide, typically enjoyed by the kids. We saw no harm in giving it a try. The rock has been smoothed to a sheen after years of sliders. It's not the smoothest ride but it sure beat walking down the winding ramp. Some of the other adult on-lookers seemed amused and apparently encouraged by our childish ways, as they climbed the rock to try it themselves.

We crossed over the bridge to visit the small interpretive centre dedicated to purveying the bridge's history before heading back through Clifton Village and then down along Park Street toward the City Centre. We were keen to have a coffee and snack, so we stopped it at Woode's Cafe, where we sat it in the strangest spot, halfway up the steps to the toilet, beside the broken mirror. We seemed to be encouraging people to make the journey halfway up only to discover that there were no more seats beyond ours, and that the top floor proper was accessed by the stairway across the cafe.

We carried on past the Centre Promenade to the Architecture Centre, where we stumbled upon the shortlisted entries for the redevelopment of Birnbeck Island. We then moved on to the Arnolfini Gallery, where we enjoyed Bill Owens's Suburbia Revisited a photography exhibition looking at life in suburban America in the 1970s and again in the present day. There were some pretty hilarious photos in the mix with some great fashion. The gallery also featured Persepolis 2530, a piece revisiting the 1971 party held by the Shah of Iran. This exhibit also featured a portrait of the Shah by Andy Warhol.

As night fell and hunger set in, we began our search for a place to eat. We're notoriously indecisive, and after a few false starts, decided on the Bristol Ram, which boasted "the best traditional pub food in Bristol." We each had a pie, mine with mustard mash, Brad's with chips, and we were well impressed with the quality. Perhaps the claim is warranted. The Six Nations Rugby was on the television and a crowd had gathered to watch and cheer on England.

We continued strolling around stopping for hot drinks at a great place called Tom's, where we were also given a free piece of cake with our purchase. It was there, reading the Metro, that we decided to head down to Thekla, the bar on a boat. I had been there the week prior to see Montreal band Islands. It is a great spot, nautical yet not overdone with the theme. There were two rather uncoordinated DJs playing on the main stage (in the hull). Nevertheless we enjoyed the atmosphere, and eventually caught the night bus back home.

On Sunday we decided to hit the Museum and Art Gallery to take in the National Gallery's exhibit, Love which featured paintings and sculpture on said subject, with pieces from Vermeer, Raphael, Turner, Joseph Wright and others. There was a short queue but it was a nice concise exhibit so it didn't take long to view. It was strange seeing paintings I had seen in the National Gallery, in a different space.

We stopped in at Brandon Hill Park to see Cabot Tower, which for some reason is fenced off. There is a great view from the edge of Brandon Hill, one of the high points in the city of Bristol. We could make out the masts of the SS Great Britain, I.K. Brunel's great steamliner, the first of its kind. It's now a museum. We had originally planned on visiting, but we didn't feel there was enough time to fully enjoy it, so we opted to view it from the harbourside.

We stopped in at the Central Library along the way and eventually made our way down to the harbour, opposite the mighty dry-docked ship. Adjacent to it, floating in the harbour, was the recently returned replica of the Matthew, the ship that carried John and Sebastian Cabot to Newfoundland and Cape Breton. We also discovered that there was a cross-harbour ferry that only cost 50p, so we made our way across and briefly stopped in at the gift shop. The rain was off and on, and this gave us a chance to dry off a bit.

That was the last stop on the journey. Brad's bus was due at 5:00pm, so we headed toward Broadmead, stopping for crepes before heading to the bus station. It had been a busy two days, but I got to see bits of Bristol I hadn't seen before, and for Brad it was all new. So it was back to work for the both of us. Nadine was due to arrive in London on Wednesday, so Brad was looking forward to reuniting with her.

Up next, a full day in Cardiff and another weekend in London.

Cheers.