At the end of the Paris post, I wrote that I expected Dover to be a shithole. I retract that statement in full as I was mistaken. To call Dover a shithole would be a compliment to it. As Eddie put it so very well “to call Dover a shithole is unfair to shitholes”. Don’t ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever pass through here let alone stay here.
To get to this place we had to get a bus through the French border security and then through the UK border security. Got drilled and asked questions for a good fifteen minutes by the woman at customs because I planned to stay in the UK for so long. I had thought for a second I wouldn’t be let through so relief came after she stamped my passport. Then we had to get a several hour late ferry across the English Channel. After 114 days of traveling only being able to find foreign language channels on the telle, we hit the jackpot crossing the English Channel.
Arriving at the Eastern Docks of Dover, the Battlers walked around in search of the bus company ‘National Express’ to purchase tickets to Brighton the next day. About 525pm, lined up behind the only other people in the bus company office for several minutes before their business was done and it was time to sort out ours. The depressed African American – or maybe the more political correct term for a black person over here is African English – said to us “sorry we close at 530pm.” The time was twenty seven minutes to six. They’d technically been closed for three minutes. She continued to mumble “you should have come earlier if you wanted to buy tickets today.” Absolutely bloody stunned by her rudeness we responded “but we were here before 530pm, you were serving other people.” Again, she responded how we should have got here earlier. Trying not to get fired up at her, it was sternly told to her that our ferry was supposed to arrive at 230pm but it was late and wasn’t our fault.” Reluctantly this bee with an itch sold us tickets to Brighton. The Battlers left without saying thankyou. She didn’t deserve it.
Wondered around the docks for about halfa surrounded by dual carriage ways, of which everyone was driving on the left side of the road. Funnily enough this now seems like everyone is driving on the wrong side of the road after being used to right hand lane, left hand drive driving. Finally found the town centre of Dover after walking through insane mist and fog and found our hostel, if you can even call it that.
Our one night in Dover was in a two bedroom place filled with bunks above an empty pub. It was called ‘The Castle’. Hope to hell it was this guys ‘castle’ – like Daryl’s castle from the Aussie movie – because I can’t see how it was anybody else’s. Had fish and chips at a corner shop nearby, a meal we’ve been craving for a fair while. Watched some Top Gear in the pub and then went to bed early. Both because we were tired and there was nothing to do or see. Was also at the point of hitting the hay I came to the realisation that the power point sockets in the UK are different to the Euro sockets. I told Eddie this news, that we couldn’t charge anything because we couldn’t use our euro adapters but luckily his mummy hooked him up with a UK adapter.
About 4am we were awoken by yelling outside on the street. From what I could make out, this is what happened. Dave was filthy because either Lou or another bloke clogged the toilet but both were denying it. I think Dave owned the place which meant he had to clean it out. Dave seemed to be pinning the blame more on Lou, possibly because he had done something like this before. Dave had a swing at Lou but missed. Lou didn’t retaliate but told Dave not to swing at him ever again or he’d “find out about it”. It all died down pretty quick because I think Dave went back inside and locked up the place so Lou and the other bloke couldn’t get back in. When I used the bathroom the next morning, I was so nervous about clogging it. It’s all I could think about.
Left after smashing down a B and E roll and got the bus to Brighton which unfortunately has to detour through London. I say unfortunately because it meant we could have gone straight to London without having to go to Dover. But you know what, I’m glad we went to Dover. Had a very different experience there and that’s what this trip is all about, new experiences. I know I sound like a broken record but it’s true.
This place is located in the region of Kent which is funny because that’s the substitute word of another bad word used by loads of youths every day back at home due to their similar sound. Having a little bit of a giggle at that.
Even though Dover was the biggest shithole I’ve ever been to, it is the best biggest shithole I’ve ever encountered