Now Where Am I?

Hint: It's not Paris!

Yes, I am in fact in Blackpool this time. The funny thing is, when I posted from Paris last week and some of you jokingly guessed I was in Blackpool, I'd already planned this trip as well. Apparently I am doing a world tour of large iron-girder towers. Las Vegas next!

I took the train up yesterday morning, and the weather was not looking promising. The skies were gray and somewhere north of Crewe it poured rain. I thought, "This is going to be a very British beach vacation." But then, lo and behold, the skies began to clear just as we neared Blackpool and by the time I got here, there were only wisps of clouds.

There is, however, wind. Lots of wind. Very intense wind and blowing sand. So I have not spent a great deal of time on the beach proper. Even walking around town, I get sand in my eyes.

Blackpool is a very retro vacation destination. It reminds me a lot of Coney Island in the USA, except that it's more self-contained, rather than being a coastal appendage to a larger city. When I texted our friend Gordon yesterday and told him I was here, he wrote back, "The epitome of the British seaside holiday -- in the 1960's!"

But that's exactly why I wanted to come. Blackpool really is famous as a historic holiday resort, from the Victorian era into the mid-20th Century, particularly for working-class people in northern England. And it is definitely not gentrified. There's an air of carnival amusement to the place, particularly along the waterfront, and there are plenty of families and little kids running around. I've seen burgers for £1 -- no word on what's in them -- and 60-piece boxes of chicken for £5.99. (Pigeon?) I've seen at least three bars advertising Elvis impersonators, and wondered whether it's one impersonator with multiple gigs, or is this the land where all Elvis impersonators are guaranteed employment?

On the waterfront promenade there's a huge pavement mural called "The Comedy Carpet" by Gordon Young and Why Not Associates. It highlights great moments in British comedy, including well-known lines and entire skits. Above you may recognize some moments from Monty Python, and there were others, too -- the dead parrot, Spam, the aquarium fish from "The Meaning of Life." Just reading these skits and replaying them in my head made me laugh out loud. Some of the other lines from other comedians I didn't recognize, but they were still funny.

I got a kick out of this family walking down the oceanfront, the man holding a large stuffed animal, the boy sticking his tongue out at his sister. That's Blackpool in a nutshell, right there.

I had lunch at a relatively fancy place overlooking the water called the Beach House, which I really enjoyed -- a glass of rosé, three Scottish oysters and an allegedly Colombian lentil stew. (Okay, so there may be some gentrification.)

Then I checked into my hotel, the Imperial, a vast, ornate red-brick pile north of the tower. It's a nice place and looks much more prosperous than some of the other oceanfront hotels, which seem like they're in a state of maritime decay. I have a tiny room with a view of nothing -- another rooftop and a wall -- but hey, you get what you pay for, right?

I came across this guy in front of another nearby hotel, which I presume is being used by the government -- like many mid-grade hotels in England -- to house migrant asylum seekers. He was conducting a one-man protest, with a sort of musical chant based on the name of a well-known anti-immigrant activist blaring from his boom box. (I'm not writing the name to avoid bringing Googling racists to my blog.)

I wondered, doesn't he have something better to do? And the answer is no -- which is also the problem. I did see an older woman give him a thumbs-up and go over to talk to him, though.

Remember how I rode the ferris wheel in Eastbourne and made a video? Well, I went out on the Central Pier (from 1868!) yesterday and did the same here, so you can get some fun aerial views of Blackpool. Sorry for my not-so-smooth camera work, but it was blowing like crazy up there and I was just trying to make sure my phone didn't fly off into the Irish Sea. Yes, I added music, because otherwise you would have only heard a windy roar.

Dinner last night: Fish and chips with mushy peas and a pint!

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A note about yesterday's post: Some of you asked in the comments that I not discard the knives with the ruined handles. I personally don't want to deal with re-handling them, but if any of you who commented would like to take on that task, e-mail me within the next few days and I'll mail them to you -- for keeps. Seriously!