Leaving York

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While I sleep, Deanna gets up extra early this morning to take more pictures of the town.

We check out of our hostel, which looks like a hostel but has the environment and feeling of hotel. The residents don't interact the way we do at hostels. We get one of the worker to take a picture of us outside our hostel, so we remember what it looks like. The picture comes out crooked.

Even though the bus station is within walking distance, we take a taxi, rather than dragging our luggage the whole way. The bus will go to Milton Keynes and let us off. Then Deanna and I will wait an hour to catch another bus back to Luton, which is only another 35 minutes.

For part of the journey, we aren't seated together, because we couldn't find two seats. I sit by a guy about our age who is tall, slim, and dark-haired. I start chatting with him and find out that he is from the eastern midlands. His accent can be difficult for me to understand, but he's nice. When the bus pulls into a rest stop for lunch, I invite him to eat with Deanna and me.

During lunch, we chat about why Deanna and I moved to England and what we think about the country so far. Deanna says, "Actually, when I move back home, I think I'd like to start taking the public transport there. I like walking everywhere and going to the bus stop and getting on a bus."

I'm staring at her like she's crazy. "Are you serious?! I hate taking public transport! I hate walking and I hate waiting for the bus or train. I'm tired of walking everywhere. It takes sooo long and my legs get all tight. I just want to get in a car and go! I love driving. I like putting on the radio and rolling the windows down. It's like total freedom!"

Deanna laughs, "Yeah I know what you mean. I'm sure I'll have to drive a lot at home, but I can also walk more, too. And take public transport."

I shake my head, not believing that she actually likes it.

Gesturing to Deanna, the midlands guy says, "If you two were dropped in the jungle somewhere, I think she'd be the most likely to survive."

My head snaps up to look at him, with wide eyes and open mouth, like I can't believe he just said that. "What?!"

He repeats his statement and laughs, looking back and forth between us, like we're supposed to be laughing too. Deanna can see that I don't think it's funny. I'm offended and irritated. Who the hell does he think he is to make an assumption like that?

"Why?" I ask him.

He shrugs, "I don't know. Just seems that way." For some reason, he's still laughing.

"Because I don't like to walk?"

"Uuh," he thinks for a second. "I guess." And laughs again.

I don't respond and just focus on eating. Eventually another conversation starts up, but I'm still annoyed with the guy's comment. All I said was that I don't like to walk, and he suddenly decides that I'm a helpless, prissy, girly-girl. I try to think of some way to show him that he's WRONG.

"Oh have you ever heard of the United States Peace Corps?" I ask him.

"Yeah, I think.." he says.

"It's a government-sponsored volunteer organization that sends people to a developing country to help out. For like, two years."

He nods, "Oh ok. Wow."

"I'm applying for that," I announce proudly.

"Woah, so they're going to send you to South America or something?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "I'll be living with the locals, eating what they eat, etc. Everything they do for survival, I'd have to do."

He nods, and I can't tell if he is impressed or if he thinks I'm insane.

I don't care. I just wanted to prove to him that I'm not that girly. I can go without make-up, hair products, and running water. (In fact, I would like an excuse to NOT fix myself up.)

When we board the bus, he says, "If you two want to sit together, that's fine with me."

So he and Deanna trade seats, and we're on our way.

---

Photos

Front Patio
of our so-called hostel.

Candy Store
(or "sweets shop", as they say here).

There must be some mistake. I ordered a large.
(That's what she said.)