Saturday, June 28 2008

I got up early in the morning, so I could leave the country soon enough. To save up as much as I could, I decided that I should hitch my way into France, rather than take a train, bus, or any form of public transport to get there. The ride I hitched was a red Citroën 2CV, which dragged a yellow home-trailer. This was funny to me, as I remembered to have been to a circus in the Netherlands, where there were two men who also drove a red car and a yellow trailer. In any event, this car was driven by a man with a dog, a bobtail to be more specific, which strange as it may sound, could talk. And let me be the one to tell you this, you don't want to enter in debate with a dog that keeps switching the "r" and the "l" in the word "problem".

When I asked them where they were going, they told me they were going to Bretagne. Upon answering, they showed me a leaflet which had pictures of the area. One of these pictures was of a statue, portraying a tall muscular man and a smaller plumply one. The description underneath the picture said the men were Astérix and Obélix, respectively. Both are well-known heroes in that area, though knowing that this statue was likely made by somebody who lived hundreds of years after both of these guys were already dead, I doubt that either one of them even looked like that statue. The dog I mentioned disagreed and started spouting... a lot of senseless words. After he was done talking, his owner corrected every single word he meant by stating what he might have meant to say, but by the time he was finished, I forgot what we were arguing about. I only remember it now, since I'm writing it down and thinking back about what happened some time ago.

Later, the two of them turned on their radio, which played their own songs. A bit narcistic of them, though, to only listen to their own music. When I asked them if they wouldn't wanna put on something else, the dog went furious. The man, not so much, but it didn't look as though he disagreed. In order to prevent any more conflicts like these, we agreed that I could still drive along with them, but they'd rather have me drive in their trailer, rather than in the car. I don't particularly mind, as I could listen to whatever artist I liked, as well as I could read a book, rather than having to sit with them discussing any of their childish subjects. It should be noted, however, that the dog sounded very old, and still talked as if it were a child, just like it's owner, who was already turning gray, despite that he tries to hide his age by using too much hair-gel.

Only a few seconds ago, we were stopped by the police. I had no idea where we were, but I reckoned we were near the borders. An old man, a policeman by the looks of it, asked the driver some questions, after which the old man searched the car, then the trailer. The old man, who smelled like he needed to go to one of those anti-alcohol meetings, did get surprised to see me, but it didn't seem like I was the one he was looking for. He turned the entire trailer upside down, just to find this certain somebody. At some point, that old man swore his head off when wondering how far a man, who just woke up from a coma can run. In that same sentence, he wondered whether the man he searched is really Irish or from another planet. I remember to have heard of some shoot-out having happened last winter in which an Irish man was involved, as well as a British and an American. That Irish guy is still in this country? How is that possible? When the old man swore all that, his partner, who appeared a lot more mature in comparison (despite being much younger), reminded him that what he swore about wasn't something the general public was supposed to hear.

Once this search was over, I managed to read a little more of "Tracer Bullet". So far, it looks quite promising, but that's to be expected, especially since the book is written by the same guy who created "Stupendous Man" and "Spaceman Spiff". Wonder where this guy got all the inspiration just to write all this. He must have quite the imagination.

Once we arrived in Calais, the car stopped so I could get out. Just in time, so I could catch the Chunnel's train that would take me to England. This will be when my journey really begins.

Sunday, June 29 2008:

Okay, how should I describe what happened while going through the Chunnel yesterday? Should I write what Great-Britain's Home Office wants me to write, or just the truth? The truth however is that I can only write what I saw before my eyes, but I'm not sure of what really happened.

The trip went smoothly in the beginning, until the train abruptly stopped driving. Nobody knew what was happening, but when water seemed to run through the train, everybody knew they had to run away. Not that would help much, because if there's water in the train, there'll be water in the Chunnel as well. Strangely, when looking out the window, I saw no such thing. Unless I'm mistaking, water should get in the Chunnel first, before it reaches inside any of the trains. But then, shouldn't the train be moving in any way? Knowing that there's no water out there, I used one of those emergency hammers that broke the window, after which I managed to jump out. From where I stood then, I saw something... weird, at the beginning of the train. It looked as though it was gone. Instead, there was some kind of light. What's even weirder, it appeared to be some kind of magnet, as all the metals I had on me appeared attracted to it. But it didn't end there. As I moved closer, I saw what appeared to be huge fish, under the train's rails. How did those get in here? Furthermore, what were they? They didn't look like any known fish. Plus given the state they were in, and how they did or didn't smell, I'd say they've been lying there for a long time.

After a few hours, people from the British Home Office came, told us that we somehow got disconnected from the first wagons, that the water we saw came from the train's cooling systems, and the fish were from an earlier incident in which the Chunnel was breached, and people forgot to clean up the fish. This statement was much to the dismay of many, as they claimed to have seen the first wagons disappearing in that light I described earlier. Some even claimed to have seen some kind of sea-monsters. But the people from Home Office asked them that if there were some kind of light, where is it now? Though it is true that the light has disappeared after some time, I'm sure this wasn't some trick of my mind. I should look up what this Chunnel is made of, to check for magnets, and look up one of these aforementioned incidents when I return home.

All in all, I finally arrived in England after all, looked for the cheapest hotel I could find, where I've spend the night. I was too tired to write anything about those events last night, so I had to do it this morning. Okay, it's 2 am, but it still counts as morning. I was so tired, I went to bed hours before my bedtime. Being in that Chunnel, all anxious as everybody was, then stand up for hours on in, in another, less comfortable small train, where I had the bad luck to not find myself a place to sit, and yet still found my way into London, or it's suburbs. It was 6 pm when I arrived at my hotel room, after which I immediately went into bed, without supper, and now I'm really hungry. I wish I had taken some food with me, but some of the aviation rules forbids all that. I was at all lucky that I could get a permit to bring a Swiss knife.

If you're curious about London's nightlife, I can tell you I've seen something I never thought I would see. I saw a man jumping from one rooftop to another, wearing a long black cape, a pointy hat and a white mask, which bore something of a nasty grin. No idea of who or what that was, but if he's sneaking through the night, that means he was on the prowl for something. Hopefully, the fact that I'm the only one with the lights on in the middle of the night, was enough to scare him away. I imagine he wouldn't want there to be any witnesses to whatever it is that he's doing.