Day 6 and 7: May 18 and 19
One of my favorite Bollywood movies is
about a girl who misses a train.
She meets a nice guy who's a little bit suicidal and is actually a billionaire, and when she tries to help him she ends up missing her train, and so he ends up having to help her get the train but then she misses it again, and then her family think's she eloped with him but actually she meant to elope with Anshuman, and in the end Anshuman is a jerk and the billionaire nice guy ends up being her true love.
I'm not sure what I expected to happen when we missed our bus to Dover, but deep inside it was that scenario.
What actually happened, however, is that we met up with Cam's friends from his mission, the Powells. They were very nice. We met them at church, made a complicated plan for us to go back to our respective accommodations, and meet up again for lunch, even though traffic was bad and we were short on time and the District subway line was down (which was the root of our problems, really). Our bus left at 1:30.
12:55 I ask for the check even though I wanted it five minutes ago.
1:05 we finally get out the door of the French creperie, take pictures with the Powells, and book it across the street to the tube station. Have a confusing conversation with the ticket guy about our Oyster cards.
1:15 we finally get on a tube towards Victoria station, but we still have three stops to go and a transfer.
about 1:28, we arrive at the Victoria underground station, we ask somebody where Victoria Coach station is, not the same as Victoria Rail or Victoria Underground stations. He says it is to the left and two blocks down. (I have a Donna moment from "Turn Left," "That's half a mile away!!!")
We then run as fast as we can to the station (in my head I'm going "I think this is the hardest thing I've ever done")(Cam was enjoying the afternoon jog)
and at 1:35
we find out the bus is already long gone.
What are our options? We have tickets for the ferry to Calais at 5:25. Let's take the next bus. 3:30 is full. Okay, we'll take the 4:00. We go back to the rail station and find out that we could be in Dover by 4:10 if we pay 40 pounds each. No thanks. 4:00 bus it is. It is supposed to get to Dover at 7:10. Okay fine, hope our ferry tickets will transfer. This is supposed to be an adventure, right?
We chat with a nice British lady on the bus down to Dover. She tell us all about how the ferry works and is very friendly over all, says that Dover should have a sign on it that says "The rest of England is not like this." The bus gets into the ferry station at 7:20.
The last foot-passenger-capable ferry left at 7:15.
What are our options? Hitchhike across the Channel. Get a ride with a lorry driver going on the freight ferry. Stowaway. Get a hotel down the street. "You can stay here all night if you like," a sympathetic bus driver says of the ferry station, probably facetiously.
Further inquiries determine that the station is well-lit, has fairly comfortable benches, and is open 24/7. Door number 3 it is. Or whatever door it was.
It was kind of cold, rather uncomfortable and our lowest moment was asking if it would be tasty to dip the salami in the yogurt. We ended up walking into town and buying foodstuffs, discovering that: food was much cheaper in Dover than London, 5 pounds goes a long way, and flirting with the Sri Lankan cashier probably wasn't going to get us some sliced cheese for free. I used my souvenir scarves as blankets and Cam fashioned a pillow out of a messenger bag and some dirty laundry. In the morning we met another guy who had stayed there all night; Martin from the Netherlands. The ticket office opened at about 7:15, and we were able to transfer our tickets to the 8:25 ferry.
And that, my friends, is the story of how we missed a bus, stayed overnight in a ferry station, made friends with a Nederlander, and ultimately did not end up married to billionaires.
She meets a nice guy who's a little bit suicidal and is actually a billionaire, and when she tries to help him she ends up missing her train, and so he ends up having to help her get the train but then she misses it again, and then her family think's she eloped with him but actually she meant to elope with Anshuman, and in the end Anshuman is a jerk and the billionaire nice guy ends up being her true love.
I'm not sure what I expected to happen when we missed our bus to Dover, but deep inside it was that scenario.
What actually happened, however, is that we met up with Cam's friends from his mission, the Powells. They were very nice. We met them at church, made a complicated plan for us to go back to our respective accommodations, and meet up again for lunch, even though traffic was bad and we were short on time and the District subway line was down (which was the root of our problems, really). Our bus left at 1:30.
12:55 I ask for the check even though I wanted it five minutes ago.
1:05 we finally get out the door of the French creperie, take pictures with the Powells, and book it across the street to the tube station. Have a confusing conversation with the ticket guy about our Oyster cards.
1:15 we finally get on a tube towards Victoria station, but we still have three stops to go and a transfer.
about 1:28, we arrive at the Victoria underground station, we ask somebody where Victoria Coach station is, not the same as Victoria Rail or Victoria Underground stations. He says it is to the left and two blocks down. (I have a Donna moment from "Turn Left," "That's half a mile away!!!")
We then run as fast as we can to the station (in my head I'm going "I think this is the hardest thing I've ever done")(Cam was enjoying the afternoon jog)
and at 1:35
we find out the bus is already long gone.
What are our options? We have tickets for the ferry to Calais at 5:25. Let's take the next bus. 3:30 is full. Okay, we'll take the 4:00. We go back to the rail station and find out that we could be in Dover by 4:10 if we pay 40 pounds each. No thanks. 4:00 bus it is. It is supposed to get to Dover at 7:10. Okay fine, hope our ferry tickets will transfer. This is supposed to be an adventure, right?
We chat with a nice British lady on the bus down to Dover. She tell us all about how the ferry works and is very friendly over all, says that Dover should have a sign on it that says "The rest of England is not like this." The bus gets into the ferry station at 7:20.
The last foot-passenger-capable ferry left at 7:15.
What are our options? Hitchhike across the Channel. Get a ride with a lorry driver going on the freight ferry. Stowaway. Get a hotel down the street. "You can stay here all night if you like," a sympathetic bus driver says of the ferry station, probably facetiously.
Further inquiries determine that the station is well-lit, has fairly comfortable benches, and is open 24/7. Door number 3 it is. Or whatever door it was.
It was kind of cold, rather uncomfortable and our lowest moment was asking if it would be tasty to dip the salami in the yogurt. We ended up walking into town and buying foodstuffs, discovering that: food was much cheaper in Dover than London, 5 pounds goes a long way, and flirting with the Sri Lankan cashier probably wasn't going to get us some sliced cheese for free. I used my souvenir scarves as blankets and Cam fashioned a pillow out of a messenger bag and some dirty laundry. In the morning we met another guy who had stayed there all night; Martin from the Netherlands. The ticket office opened at about 7:15, and we were able to transfer our tickets to the 8:25 ferry.
And that, my friends, is the story of how we missed a bus, stayed overnight in a ferry station, made friends with a Nederlander, and ultimately did not end up married to billionaires.
Our lovely accommodation
We slept most of the ferry ride over
(although of course we made sure to get pictures of the white cliffs of Dover)
and ended up in Calais with about fifteen words of French between us and much
gratitude for Ellyn From the Past who brought a multi-lingual phrase book. “Pour
alleh a la gare?” and some sign language got us to the train station, where we
waved to Martin again. We had to get some French fries for lunch, of course
(although come to think of it we forgot to get fish and chips in London), and
we figured out how to get to Bruges by train, stopping in Lille, France on the
way. In Bruges we once again had to figure out how to get to our accommodation,
the Snuffel Backpacker’s Hostel (which I recommend for price and comfort,
though not for the smell of the bar)(if you like the smell of bars then I say
go for it), but the stars aligned (or we knew how to read bus maps) and we
arrived without too much difficulty. We both finally got our showers and
strolled around a bit in the evening to get an idea of Bruges, then finally
collapsed in our bunk beds, exhausted.
The Cliffs of Dover
Calais
Bruges in the evening
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