London is still familiar surroundings and I blur across the city to the coach station at London Victoria. The vehicle I board hauls its way through Vauxhall, Camberwell and Peckham, and then into less familiar territory and eventually out of London towards Dover.
Even within London, there is a visible transition that occurs in the architecture reeling cinematically past the window. Yellow brick houses gradually become wider, more suburban homes. It's a fascinating transition and one that will only become more exciting to watch as I come deeper into Europe. I am convinced that it's a different and more rewarding type of excitement than that experienced inside an aeroplane.
The crossing via Eurotunnel takes thirty-five minutes and when we reach France, the views change to large, scrubby patches of land, lonesome rows of poplar trees, and fields of sunflowers and corn.
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