(I wish my bus looked like this. My bus didn’t move nearly this fast. Ever.)

 

I’m studying abroad in London, one of the most expensive cities in the world. In addition to that, I’m a student, on a student visa, which means I can’t legally work or earn money in the UK. Essentially, I’m on the budget of all budgets, and I’m determined to stretch it so that I can make it to as many places as possible during my time in Europe. To kick off my year of travels, I planned my first trip to Amsterdam. I was going with three other girls, which would cut costs on where we stay. But first things first – how to get from London to Amsterdam.

Countless google searches and travel blog skimmings later, I discovered that flights, while definitely less expensive than in the states, are not necessarily cheap, unless booked well in advance. I could have decided to go to Amsterdam later, but one of my best friends is studying there, and I was determined to make it there for her 21st birthday. So flights were pricy, trains were even more expensive than flying, and my weekend was racking up the dollar sign much quicker than I anticipated. I had heard the bus mentioned as being really awesome a few times, with people touting that the seats reclined, a bathroom was available, there was wifi, and you can just sleep the entire journey in your cushy seat! Off I went to research buses, I found a super cheap ticket for about $28 each way, talked with the other girls, and we all booked a ticket on an overnight bus from London Victoria Coach Station to Amsterdam Duivendrecht Station. I was sure this was the best option, when I really should have been more like this:

I should mention here, I’ve been pretty sheltered when it comes to transportation (although I wasn’t aware of this until after my bus ride). I’ve never ridden a bus for longer than 5 hours, and that was only once during a school trip when my entire grade went from New York to Washington, DC. Other than that, I’ve flown or road-tripped everywhere. And on road trips, my parents would stop whenever someone needed a bathroom break and for meals.

So, you could say I was unprepared for the 11 hour bus trip I signed up for. Incidentally, if you drive a car, you can get to Amsterdam in 4 hours or so from London. It doesn’t actually need to take 11 hours. This was a red flag that I ignored, in bliss about how much money I was saving on transportation. I printed my ticket, packed my backpack full, filled up my nalgene, packed some last minute snacks from Whole Foods, and headed off to the bus station on cloud nine thinking I was about to get an amazing 11 hour nap.

No.

My group arrived at the bus station, and right off the bat I realized I had been misinformed. The bus driver accused me of trying to smuggle drugs and alcohol into Amsterdam because I wanted to bring my backpack on board with me (why anyone would do this when it’s mostly all legal there, I do not know, but this guy was suspicious of everyone). I offered to let him check my bag, he told me he didn’t want to, and ordered me to just board the bus with my bag. I guess I passed his test? However, my backpack and I staying together were not meant to be. This bus was not spacious, my seat leaned back less than an airplane seat does (and we all know this is not nearly enough), the foot space was so small my purse barely fit and I had to hold my 5 pound camera in my lap, and there was the noxious sound of coughing, sniffling, and snoring buzzing all around (how the woman seated behind me was snoring about 2.5 minutes after boarding the bus, which was hotter and more stifling than summer in Texas, I have no idea, but I suspect drugs. The bus driver clearly shouldn’t have let her bring her backpack on). I grudgingly stowed my carefully-packed-with-snacks-and-plenty-of -water bag under the bus, climbed back on, and tried to assure myself it was fine, I would be asleep shortly, and wake up in Amsterdam.

No.

In the midst of my lullaby-blaring music, I heard a loud, gruff, angry voice jolting me out of my near-sleep. The bus driver, my new nemesis. He launched into the most horrifying spiel I have ever heard at the beginning of a journey. He started with “the toilet is only for emergencies, and if too many people use it, it will overflow and make the bus smell, so use it at your own risk.” Then he moved on to inform us that we had to take a ferry over the English channel at 3am. But, apparently, the ferry often simply doesn’t run. He told us that yesterday, his bus had to wait from 1 am until 7 am for the ferry to show up. A bus full of people had to sit on that bus for 6 hours at a stand still. At this point, the panic was rising, seeing as my 11 hour bus ride just hit a potential for 17 hours; but I still held out hope that he would give us something good, some little tidbit of information such as “but don’t worry, that won’t happen today.” Nope. No, all we got was “if this happens, send an email. I can’t fix it. You can’t fix it. Just send an email.” Awesome, I’ll use the spotty wifi to email a corporate office, and maybe they’ll make the ferry work in the middle of the night, sounds reasonable. Not! Finally, he told us we would be stopping for breaks to pick up more people, and if anyone got off the bus and didn’t get back on before everyone new we picked up was settled, he was leaving you. “I wait for no one!” were words I heard many, many times.

In the midst of this speech, as I was contemplating whether or not I should get the hell off that bus, he closed the doors and trapped me in.

Turns out, road trips with your parents do not in any way prepare you for a bus road trip. I’m sure it’s difficult to drive a bus, but this guy took it to the next level. We whipped around corners and changed lanes with all the finesse of a fish out of water. So, my nap time slipped by as I was constantly reawakened by the bus taking a turn.

After three hours, as I was slipping into a light daze almost like sleep, suddenly our peach of a driver’s voice came BLARING over his speaker to yell at everyone to GET OFF THE BUS WITH YOUR COAT, SHOES, AND PASSPORT! Am I being kidnapped? Robbed? Bus-jacked? No, it’s just time to go through immigration. Naturally, it’s snowing, and we have to wait outside until our bus driver comes back for us.

Back to the bus, it’s time for the ferry. I swear the entire coach was holding their breath collectively in hopes that it would be running. Alas, it was not. Thankfully, we only had to wait for an hour. However, an hour on a bus that’s turned off, so no air circulation or heat (because it was snowing and 25 degrees F at that point) is not particularly pleasant.

Finally, finally the ferry arrives, we drive on, and then are once again yelled at to, GET OFF THE BUS AND COME BACK IN 90 MINUTES OR I LEAVE WITHOUT YOU. Maybe I should have just let him leave? The thought crossed my mind a few times.

The lounge on the ferry was cool, and definitely the best part of the trip. The silver lining. You could see the lights on the horizon, and you could walk around or sprawl out on the couch to stretch or take a quick nap. Of course, the ferry was slow, so 120 minutes later, we were back on the bus and on our way.

The next 7 hours is an exhausted blur of being woken up periodically by the driver turning the coach lights on and off, and yelling into his handy-dandy microphone that we were stopping for some reason or another. No kidding, one time we stopped at a gas station, not to get gas, but seemingly just to sit in the parking lot for 45 minutes, with the driver periodically yelling.

13-14 hours later, we arrived at Duivendrecht, I have never been so happy to exit a vehicle in my entire life! My neck and shoulders were cramping in weird positions, I couldn’t feel my feet, I developed a cough, and I was more dehydrated and hungry than I have ever been, but it was glorious to step off that bus and into Amsterdam.

 

My bus experience was definitely not fantastic in any way. But I survived and I’m chalking it up as an exercise in character building, learning gratitude and appreciation for every form of travel I have ever taken, ever, and a learning curve of what types of transportation are absolutely not worth it to me to save money on. I’m sure any bus that doesn’t require crossing a channel on a ferry, or last for more than 5 hours, would be a perfectly fine way to travel. However, I admit the thought of getting back on a bus for that same experience, just in the opposite direction, in two days at the end of the weekend filled me with an embarrassing amount of terror and general stubbornness that you could not pay me to get back on that bus. In the end, I booked a train back. And the train was wonderful. Plush seats, leg room, short, and quiet. I love the train. I appreciate the train. I am now very much devoted to the train.

 

xox,

Lauren