But it all came together suddenly, as we threw not quite the right amount of money at Jelte, ran across the park back to the bus station, ran into Holly, and leapt onto our bus.
It wasn't the express.
This bus took five hours along narrow winding roads in lovely hill country. Despite getting motion sickness, I was still able to blearily appreciate the fresh, wild countryside. Small emerald green sheep pastures were divided from each other by hedges, stone walls, or wire fences. Occasionally there would be a house, or a town with a name that I'd always heard of: Newcastle-upon-Tyne, or York. I'd like to go back to York, it's spectacularly quaint looking. The hills got less steep, the pastures slightly larger as we wound our way southward. By the time we got to Leeds, I was ready to never see another bus again, but on the up side, had probably lost 5 pounds from repeated vomiting.