Sunday, 29 March 2009

Cross country

In the old country, I would have taken the car. Here, I still feel insecure. By train, I'll have to take the train to London first, then the underground, than another train. I did this last week to go to Gatwick and back. London underground in the morning with a suitcase isn't the most pleasant way to travel. So I decide to try the bus, proudly called Stagecoach. It's also less than half the price of the train, and travel time more or less the same. Three hours on a bus that goes into every small village on the way - at least it feels so. Small cosy towns with pubs and churches and fancy school buildings; a city that looks like one huge shopping mall. People get on and get off. Pretty landscape outside. Everything is in bloom: fruit trees, almond trees, daffodils and all the other vegetation the names of which I still have to learn. First time in my life I regret I don't own an ipod or whatever it's called, to listen to music on the way. I listen to my own thoughts instead.

There is one drawback. When the bus negotiates the endless roundabouts, it sways so that one almost gets seasick.

A real stagecoach looks like this

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