The Wisdom of a 10 Hour Bus Ride to Scotland
By Patricio Pino
One of the core aspects of traveling is (despite many better words) the act of traveling itself. So finding myself studying abroad in London it felt like I needed to spread my travels even further, making up for my growing familiarity with England by seeking some more novel sights and cities. An easy start for these auxiliary journeys would be any of the constituent countries of the United Kingdom; so my friends and I decided to take a trip to Edinburgh, Scotland.
Now, at this point I could be writing about the romance and wistfulness of travel, and how it fills my wandering soul. Instead, I will write about the logistics of trans-Britannic travel and other items of practicality (and mundanity).
When it comes to traversing what amounts to more than 300 miles and most of Great Britain, you might think that either the sheer efficiency of the plane, or the relative ease and traditionality of the train, might win out as the most logical travel options. However, you would be entirely wrong. In what may or may not have been a bout of immense wisdom, the decision was made to travel to Scotland by bus; a journey which takes 10 hours, and which has led to me being not at all, in any way, at all spiteful.
This fateful decision has occupied my mind in a most placid manner, and so I wish to decipher, with the benefit of hindsight I now have, some of its pros and cons. Beginning with what was lauded as its most reasonable justification: the financial benefits.
Coming in at less than £40 round trip, I was told the bus tickets were half the price of train tickets, and significantly cheaper than any possible plane tickets. Facts, which if taken at face value (which I did), seem to indicate the bus as the best option, an opinion echoed by my friends (the value of the company I keep is a discussion for another time). However, in retrospect this justification brings into serious question how much I really value money, as opposed to other (seemingly meaningless) things, like dignity.
The true worth of the money saved is also called into question when considered within a larger context. The £2 coin which I dropped down a storm drain, the £2 muffin which I dropped outside of the Edinburgh coach station, the £25 which I had to pay to replace my lost oyster card, and countless other examples of carelessness that sit very pleasantly in my mind and really begin to chip away at this notion of thrifty living. Which at best brings into serious question the justification for the bus ride, and at worst throws a dark light on my life and future in a cold and unforgiving world.
However, what made me most happy about the trip, rather than money saved, were the two strangers who I got to know over the course of 20 collective hours of travel time. Now, when I say “got to know” I primarily mean a degree of well acquaintance with their lower arm as a result of the constant, largely subconscious, sparring for armrest dominance in the delightfully cramped seats. Seats which really bolstered my respect for British ingenuity. No higher example of efficiency can surely be found, than that of the oh so comfortably nestled travelers regularly found shuttling across Britannia on exceedingly long bus rides.
And even though I recall no conversation, and what few words were exchanged were probably curt and meaningless, I can’t help but feel like I really got to familiarize myself with the people of these fair isles. After all, meeting new people and absorbing local culture are integral parts of the travel experience, and from the conditions on those buses, I can’t help but feel like I must have absorbed something from my fellow passengers.
In the words of acclaimed lyricist, Aubrey Drake Graham, “Sometimes it’s the journey that teaches you a lot about your destination.” A quotation which rings partially true in that nothing makes you enjoy long walks through a historic city quite like having spent the last 10 hours unable to move your legs. While nothing makes you cherish every single passing instance in an art museum quite like the looming threat of a 10 hour return trip with only glare and mist to look at through the window.
Overall, I think a valuable lesson learned from this experience is the importance of context. By looking at the context of how I spend my money, I can learn about how to be more responsible in the future. For example, within the context of a trip’s cost to comfort ratio I can gain the knowledge about where to adequately cut costs without making undue sacrifices, and within the context of insufficient leg room and a max 2° recline for longer than a few hours, I can gain a propensity for concerning thoughts and a feeling that my brain is dissolving.
