One wing of the Royal Pavilion in Brighton.
I feel bad leaving you with a photo of the ugliest building in London, so I thought I'd post a photo of the most—well, attractive is not really the word for the Royal Pavilion in Brighton. Ostentatious, bold, thrilling—all these come to mind when one wanders through the rooms of the Pavilion, which must have shocked and awed their Regency audience in quite a different way than the ugly U.S. embassy building does today.
From the outside, it's like a long Taj Mahal, with minarets and bulbous rooftops poking up like onions on a latticed pie. Inside, it's a cozy, overwrought palace. Queen Victoria found it too tiny for her large family, so she moved the family seaside compound to the Isle of Wight.
Or maybe it was the serpent holding the huge chandelier in the Banqueting Room that put her off her porridge. No photos are allowed inside, so you'll have to check out the photos (including the 360º panorama) at the official Pavilion site, which don't properly display the magnificence that greets visitors. That was sort of the point. The Prince Regent had the Palace built where a farmhouse stood, employing first the architect Henry Holland and later, John Nash. He wanted a place that flat-out impressed his fellow Regency movers and shakers, who, although they may not have traveled in the Orient, were fascinated by it. Nothing like faux-bamboo and chinoiserie to loosen the cravat—and the purse—of the Regency gentleman.
The son of dour George III, the prince was quite the spendthrift, a dandy renowned for his over-the-top lifestyle as well as his gluttony. Standing in the middle of the Music Room, one can easily imagine the sumptuous thrill his guests must have had, feeling lucky to be partying with the prince.
Currently, the building is undergoing a facelift, so the front face of the building is partially hidden by scaffolding. The gardens are just beginning to come into color, though the local color was out in force. The city of Brighton owns the building now, and it's a major tourist attraction for this seaside town.
Brighton itself is definitely worth a visit, especially if you are gay or vegetarian. It is known as the gay capitol of the South, a reputation I can't vouch for (we drove down Dyke Road and saw the Dyke Pub, but that's about it). I can report that it's very veggie friendly. The funky North Laines were full of tiny veg-friendly cafés and even a vegetarian shoe store. We stopped for a burger at Red Veg (which you may remember from my post-Boxing Day non-visit). The burgers were okay, but it was the novelty we enjoyed most. Unlike in America, veggie burgers are not standard veggie fare on menus here. (And when they do appear on menus, they are sometimes made with mashed potatoes. Beware.) These were authentic veggie burgers, served with all the mod cons, plus passable chips (fries) and/or potato wedges, which tasted as if they'd been coated with Tony's. Luckily, we found one of the 4 or 5 tiny tables free, but I imagine in high summer seating in this tiny café is a hard-won prize for the vegetarian glutton.
I'll have to go back one day and wander the intriguing streets and Lanes. The South Lanes are more posh, North Lanes, or Laines, are more funky—just the place to search for that hard-to-find vinyl record. This is also where you'll find superb graffiti art.
There's also the Brighton Pier (don't go the their website; you can't get out) and the beach, which was what originally attracted the Prince Regent to Brighton: the waters were said to be restorative. I didn't find out; the wind was cold enough.
Brighton is not car-friendly; we waited ten minutes for a spot at one of the two car parks. There does appear to be a park-and-ride, plus trains go from Victoria Station in London.
But parking, and global warming, probably weren't on the minds of George and his pleasure-seeking guests. Brighton is, however, still a top spot for pleasure in the British Isles. At least for those of us who find decadence and delight in vegetarian shoes and mushroom burgers.
