En Route

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

2:50pm, GMT+0

STILL-ON-A-BUS, CALAIS, FRANCE

With any luck, the more astute of you noticed an interesting discrepancy in the last post. Namely, the marker. Anyone? If you haven't picked it, the last post was written in France. Yes, my dear enthusiasts, I was not kidding when I said I was on the road again! It has been a week-and-a-half since I touched down in Glasgow International Airport, and already I am on my third European country. I will not elaborate on the details of the last week, on account of there being a limited photo record (I know, I know :(

But suffice to say there was the long-awaited reunion with a dearly missed friend in England, some fond farewells, a wonderful week with the family in Scotland, the frequenting of some well-known and new-found bars and clubs, plenty of Murder, She Wrote, and way too many unhealthy substances consumed. All in all, a successful week-and-a-bit. Here is the bit where I swear to you that I am returning Glasgow soon-ish and can promise a good helping of visual media then.

But where am I now? Well you must know by now I'm on a bus! Good. In fact I'm fairly out of Calais by now, travelling north-ish. I've been on buses or in bus stations for the last 18 hours or thereabouts, and am therefore probably mad. I left Glasgow (with it's hint of snow) at 10:00pm last night, arriving at London Victoria much too early this morning to really comprehend the new bus driver's explanation that the trains were stuck somewhere and we were therefore catching the ferry to the continent.

Now, this was definitely news to me! I was rather under the impression that a coach, being the landlubbing vehicle it is, would be driving to the continent. Luckily not, for this morning I saw the White Cliffs of Dover (capitals necessary) rise out of the hills as we rounded the bend to the Port. But the biggest surprise was yet to come! Okay, so maybe noone else is surprised by this. But it turns out that when you drive onto a ferry on a coach, they let you on deck. This is cool, because on P&O's The Pride of Calais they've got about a billion bars, duty-free shopping, some restaurants, a food court, and a bunch of secret doors you can find (if you look hard enough) that take you out into the fresh air.

I bet you can guess what song I had in my head the whole time. Hint: T-Pain.

And I swear to god this is true, you really can see France from England.

(You knew that? Well done. I thought it was a metaphor for something.)

So I got some fresh air, took some photos, giggled to myself a bit, decided it was too cold, went inside, and had a pint. Perfection.

Yes, those are the White Cliffs of Dover...

Everybody look at me cos I'm standing on a boat!

Now I leave you as I continue on this hellish bus ride (Okay, fine, it's really not that bad, and it's cheap. And the next stop is Lille.) because by tonight I'll be in Brussels, Belgium! And I get to spend more than an hour there this time! I am super excited. I have been practicing my French:

"Bonjour monsieur. Pardon, je suis en Australie. Parlez vous Anglais? S'il vouz plait?

*Mutters* Oh god please please speak English oh god oh god."

Also I am hoping I have not remembered incorrectly and Brussels is mostly Flemish-speaking, cos then I'm fucked.

With love,

TCT