Traveling

Harrogate is passing me by outside the window on this nine hour journey to Newcastle. I see a man with a cob pipe sitting at a bus station, looking austerely at me. There is much greenery because of the rain, Paul tells me.

I just ate some sea salt and balsamic vinegar chips. The British are really good at chips, so many flavors, so pungent.

The man sitting across from me, he's probably 26, looks like he does some form of manual labor; dust and dirt all over his clothing and arms, he probably sees me ogling. He is reading a magazine called Zoo which looks like Maxim: rating girls in underwear, plus the requisite Mach 3 ads and random news articles, such as "Incredible Bear Rescue!"

The green is so bright, older couples walk hand in hand through the field. I've seen horses, cows and sheep in the pastures, farmhouses sprinkled along the way.

There is this Turkish guy in the back checking me out, creeping me out. He asks me for the time then grins for an extended period of time, and I walk back to the bus. The girl I was sitting next to has the left the bus in Leeds, and I think about exploring Leeds on my journey back to Belgium. There's no time, next time.

I keep telling myself how I am going to be more organized next time. I will, I promise.