Brighton, land of creative foodies with less fucks to give - they already spent them on being socially-responsible

Oh Brighton. A place that has already nuzzled in to a soft spot in my heart. 

So much like Melbourne, a city on the other side of the world who also has a Greens MP representing it. 

The clothing is as colourful as the range of openly celebrated sexualities. 

A haven for people escaping London, like my excellent friend who hosted us.

Brickwork streets that weave through a throng of strolling, socially-responsible humanity. 

Open air markets where people insist on not taking your money.

Rare second-hand bookshops with early editions of A Catcher in the Rye and all of Haruki Murakami's collection (I really shouldn't read him, the stories are incredibly depressing but there's not many authors I like).

Ah-MAZING food. Vegan everything.

Food from Snorl's and Tun Tun's.

Foodstores with cashew cheese, soy cheese, coconut cheese, facon, gluten-free heaven.

My goods.

An arcade room of addiction. There were these 2p machines that you loaded your 2ps into as they slowly pushed cheap prizes your way. 

The 2p machines, who turn the most unlikely suspects into problem gamblers. 

I don't gamble and was skeptical, but I got out £1 worth of 2ps and was the first to run out of the three of us. So I got out £3 and played with conviction, finally winning a tiny teddy bear blazoned with the word Brighton. 

More serious players had the option of using the 50p machines for more valuable prizes (more expensive-looking key rings).

I looked at my phone. I had lost 20 minutes to gambling, and there were missed calls from my friends. I walked outside into the bright sunlight, squinting.

I invested the rest of my 2ps towards my bottle of prosecco for our aperol spritz. 

And finally, a stony beach with a beautiful view. 

Brighton Beach 

So that was Brighton for me.

The best part of course was the lovely company I had. Other traveller friends are the best type of friend. If you travel together, you are forced to bond very quickly. And although years may have passed, your friendship will be like no time has passed when you do see each other.

I remembered what it was like to have three Kiwi girls in one room together. Constant talking and missing funny cultural tidbits, like the idea of bringing a plate to a BBQ.

We talked about what it was like being in our thirties (the first time we met we were in our teens). Of what it means to be a young woman today. Of becoming who we really are. Of having less fucks to give. 

And agreement that if the travel bug hadn't got us in Spain, 2006 then we would all be in very different places right now. Probably in NZ and up the duff. 

This is us, Brighton, UK, 10 June 2018.

I think that travelling the world can really change you, show you what's possible. And once your eyes are open, it's hard to close them again. 

I will forever be slightly restless. A desire to see more, do more, be more. 

And these friends understand me.  

Brighton, a city in the UK just behind London in terms of tourist numbers. 

I am enjoying my last hour in Brighton by going on a date by myself with a vegan breakfast (in the late afternoon). I feel completely content. 

I think Brighton understands me too.