my sister and i were in cornwall from july 5 to july 8.
a little note on how the trip started: with me, hungover and nauseous on a train. i’d been so good about not drinking, but i went into central the night before to drop my sister off at a dinner and we stumbled into pride.
and instead of heading home, i thought i might as well soak in the atmosphere, find a place to take it all in. so i went to a simmons by myself and sat there drinking a coke, and then a girl asked if she could sit with me and i said yes. she said her friend was coming to meet her, and we ended up talking and hanging out.
“you’re so cute, you should come out with us tonight!”
and one thing led to another, and before i knew it, i was swept up in their orbit, taking celebratory shots, stumbling to bars, getting lost in the hazy buzz of the summer night. i remember a dance floor, and kissing a boy, heat and sweat, and then heading home on the tube in a daze.
so much of a daze that i left my phone on the train, and by the time it disconnected from my airpods and i let out an “oh shit” of sudden realization, the train was out of sight, disappeared into the next tunnel, leaving me stunned on the platform.
thankfully, it ended up with a good samaritan, and after church the next day (for which i was so unfortunately hungover, which was a shame because it was the service following the excitement of our summer fair and it would’ve been nice to be on my a-game), my sister went to south kensington to retrieve it before we had to hop on the train to cornwall.
upon getting my phone back, i looked through the most recent photos – always the most damning evidence of my state of being whenever these things happen. i found a bunch of messy bathroom mirror selfies with strangers spanning from about 1am – 2am, and the last photo was a shirtless picture of me in an empty club at about 5am.
after church, i had a bit of a much-needed rest. i hadn’t gotten any sleep because of the phone fiasco and i was fading fast. and then, at the very last minute, i threw a bunch of clothes and supplies into my new travel backpack and whipped off to paddington to meet my sister.
we agreed to meet at the paddington bear statue, but apparently they move it around all the time and i was having trouble finding it. thankfully, by some miracle, she noticed me aimlessly wandering around and i saw her waving as she beelined over.
she was well-equipped with snacks, and over the course of the train ride, as my stomach settled and i started to feel better, i was grateful for them. and so our cornwall adventures began.
i remember it being around 8pm-ish when we got into hayle, where we’d be staying. our airbnb host, daniel, graciously picked us up from the train station and drove us the less than 10 minutes to the house. his wife, sylvia, greeted us when we came in. they gave us the lay of the land, house rules and arrangements, and showed us to our cozy room.
we put our stuff down and freshened up a bit and then headed out to grab some dinner. the sun was setting and everything was settling into deep greys and blues. it was quiet and serene and i remember thinking it all felt like a liminal space, a bit of a dreamscape.
we found a bangladeshi restaurant called grameen tandoori and everything we ate there was delicious. i starkly remember the grumpy tall ginger man who took our drinks order. but our main servers were a couple of bangladeshi men who bonded with us the way fellow immigrants do – with tales of home and travels, harkening to different aspects of our cultures.
it was darker out by the time we left the restaurant, which shone like an oasis in looming night. even more of a dreamscape, then.
we headed back for some sleep, planning to wake up at the crack of dawn to go surfing.
we woke up early and sylvia was already making breakfast. they would treat us to breakfast for the entirety of our stay – butter croissants, cereal, fruit – little mugs of coffee from their french press.
we took a bus to penzance and then another bus to land’s end for the surfing lesson. the morning was overcast, grey and misty, a striking mood for the day. surfing was fun. i liked the way i looked in the wetsuit. our instructor, jessica, much like many of the locals we would see, looked tanned and wind-swept and i thought her life must feel so free down by the coast. i actually managed to stand on the board for a little bit and i was proud. at the end of the lesson, she gave me and my sister cornish pasties, vegetarian and delicious.
jessica lived in penzance and offered us a ride back so we packed ourselves into her car (already cramped with surfboards) and she gave us recommendations for things to see and places to eat while she drove.
we decided to head over to st. michael’s mount, to walk along the causeway before it submerged under a rising tide, and roam the gardens of the castle. the gardens were filled with all sorts of colourful flowers and plantlife, rising in tiers and levels along winding paths that led upwards to the castle looming above. the day was hot and beautiful and everything made for a pretty picture.
that evening, back in penzance, we had dinner at a place called mackerel sky seafood bar, a tapas place jessica recommended. everything we ordered was delicious, and i remember being particularly blown away by the scallops. i’m always blown away by scallops, to be fair.
took the bus back to hayle, and we stopped at the big lidl on the way to the airbnb to pick up some snacks, including a bucket of popcorn that looked like a cartoon. we watched the rom-com “voicemails for isabelle” before going to bed. it was decent.
the next morning, we made our way over to st. ives to do some exploring. stopped by a photography gallery run by a man who takes wistful, dreamy pictures of the coastal landscapes. he talked to us about the tricks he uses, how he only develops a limited number of prints per series. his photos were admittedly beautiful. his dog laid on the floor, inviting little pats and pets.
then we went to the tate modern and walked around peering at the art under conspicuously bad lighting. in the gift shop, i found a book called “hot victorians: meet your dream man from the past” full of, you guessed it, pictures and biographies of hot men from that time period. i was seriously tempted to buy it, but i was already struggling to fit all of my wares in my travel backpack and didn’t need anything else adding to the weight. i opted for taking photos of the hottest guys instead and posting them on my instagram story for posterity.
had fish and chips from a place a local recommended for lunch. we sat and ate at the beach, wary of any seagulls that might be patrolling on the sand. everyone told us to watch out for them, reminding me of the time a seagull stole three prawns from me as i innocently strolled on a beach in brighton a couple of years ago. viscous little creatures, but i respect the hustle. they stood around, pretending not to take any notice of us, inching ever closer, but we were vigilant and refused them an opening.
we spent the rest of the day idly exploring st. ives. we saw a structure on a hill in the distance, so we went up to it and came by one of the most beautiful views of the whole trip. so beautiful that we were compelled to film a dramatic lip-sync video set to jojo’s seminal classic, “too little, too late.”
on our way back down the hill, we stumbled across a more tucked-away beach. went for a swim and it was so relaxing, shielded from the bulk of the people. it was one of the best parts of the trip. and then we had a lovely dinner at the restaurant just up the beach.
when it was time to leave st. ives, we stopped by a cafe on the way to the bus stop for a late coffee. the barista was notably quite cute. and when we got off the bus at hayle, my sister almost immediately realized she’d left her phone on the bus, which had unfortunately already driven away.
small panic for a little bit, and to distract ourselves we went back to the lidl to get more snacks. a little later, when i checked her phone’s location on the “find my” app, it seemed to be stationary at a bus station, so we called the bus station and they said the phone was safe and sound and to pick it up in the morning. so that’s two phones lost and found in the course of one trip, one for me and one for her.
in the morning, on our last day in cornwall, we went to camborne to rescue her phone. when that was all sorted, we finally dropped by philps to sample their cornish pasties (delicious and filling), and then we went back to hayle and relaxed on hayle beach until it was time to go home. ended up getting on an earlier train thinking we had flex tickets, and then getting kicked off because it turns out we had advance single tickets, forcing us to spend some time truro until we could get onto the right train. honestly, it wasn’t the worst place to get stuck in.
it was a fun trip, full of beautiful scenery and relaxing beaches. i now romanticize life by the coast. it seems so peaceful, and i wonder what it’s like when the tourists are all gone. i imagine standing on the beach at night alone, in that liminal dreamscape from that first night, letting my thoughts wash away into the sea. i imagine a quiet love blooming – two men sitting on a bench close to shore, everything muted and protected and hushed – tenderness in deep blues, shared whispers against the sound of a gentle tide, and the moon, bashfully watching, giving her endless blessing.
