
Victoria Station, onde tantas vezes estive, indo e voltando
Victoria Station, where I’ve been so many times, coming or going
Uma coisa engraçada nos ônibus do Reino Unido é a paranóia dos motoristas com a bagagem de mão. Se for um pouquinho maior do que determinado tamanho ou estiver muito estufada, exigem que seja colocada no compartimento de bagagem. Como já tinha percebido esse detalhe, embarcava me mantendo sempre de frente para o motorista, ainda que precisasse subir os degraus de costas para que ele não visse o tamanho da mochila nas minhas costas, senão nem me deixaria entrar. E a escondia imediatamente debaixo da cadeira, atrás das minhas pernas, embora devesse guardá-la na prateleira acima dos assentos.
Para esta longa viagem ( de Londres a Edimburgo, 656km) levava casacos, cachecol, lanche, câmera e o livro Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, um tijolo. Mas o volume passou despercebido quando o motorista foi checar se estava tudo em ordem no ônibus antes de dar a partida.
Something funny in UK coaches is the drivers’ paranoia concerning hand luggage.
If it’s an inch bigger than a certain size or too overweighted, they oblige you to put it in the luggage compartment under the vehicle. As soon as I took notice of this detail I made a plan, and it worked quite well. Whenever I was boarding I never turned my back to the driver so he couldn’t see my backpack size, otherwise he wouldn’t let me in. I would circumvent the man, climbing the steps backward if necessary. And immediately hid the backpack under the seat, behind my legs, although hand luggage is supposed to be kept in the compartment above the seats.
For this overnight journey (from london to Edimburgh, around 408 miles) I had brought coats, scarf, a snack, camera and “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince”, a book thick as a brick. The driver went all the way through the corridor to check out if everything was in order before starting the engine, still the backpack went unnoticed.
Presenciei uma cena bizarra na Victoria Station por causa de bagagem. Um negão entrou carregando um galão de vinte litros e, interpelado pelo motorista, disse que era óleo. Confusão à vista: o motorista disse que era proibido transportar óleo no ônibus. Mas o tal óleo – de cozinha talvez – não existia na cidade do passageiro, que tinha ido a Londres especialmente para comprar aquilo e se recusava a abandonar a mercadoria.
– Nesse caso, o senhor não pode viajar – afirmou o motorista.
– Mas eu paguei a passagem – rebateu o homem.
E a discussão começou. Dez minutos depois, o motorista mandou chamar uma guarda da estação, também negra, para ver se convencia o sujeito:
– Senhor, lamento, mas são normas da empresa, não posso permitir.
O passageiro insistiu. Não digo que as pessoas se amontoaram em volta, como teria acontecido na Rodoviária Novo Rio, porque os ingleses são muito discretos, mas o bate boca já estava chamando atenção e os demais passageiros amarrando a cara devido ao atraso. Foi chamado outro funcionário, mais graduado, que se mostrou irredutível do mesmo jeito. Nem no bagageiro era permitido levar óleo. Enfim, depois de quarenta minutos, o galão foi finalmente colocado num compartimento separado do resto da bagagem e o ônibus partiu.
I witnessed a bizarre occurrence concerning luggage in Victoria Station. A big black man was boarding the coach carrying a demijohn of around 5 galons. Heckled by the driver, he said it was oil, and the trouble started. The driver told him it was expressly forbidden to carry oil in the coach. But such oil (probably cooking oil) was not available in the passenger’s town. He had gone all the way to London just to buy it and refused to leave it behind.
“– You can’t travel then”, the driver stated.
“– But I paid for the ticket”, refuted the passenger.
The quarrel began, and after ten minutes of argument the driver sent for an officer, black herself, to talk him into the matter:
“– I’m sorry, Sir, these are the company rules, there’s nothing I can do”.
And the passenger insisted. There was not a crowd gathering around, as would surely happen in Brazil, for English people are very discreet, but the squabble was drawing people’s attention and the other passengers were already ugly-faced for the delay.
Another station officer appeared, adamant as well: it was forbidden to carry oil, even in the luggage compartment. At last, forty minutes later, the demijohn was put in another compartment, apart from the luggage, and the coach departed.
A viagem levou a noite toda. O ônibus ia lotado, o carinha ao meu lado era um fofo e logo começamos a conversar. Ele percebeu que eu estava inconfortável naquele assento apertado e me emprestou uma almofadinha inflável que se encaixa em volta do pescoço, salvou minha vida. Embora fosse verão, fazia um frio absurdo. No meio da madrugada o ônibus fez uma parada. Jimi tinha cigarros, e saímos para fumar no estacionamento, quase congelamos no vento cortante.
The journey took all night. The coach was full, the guy sitting next to me was very nice and soon we were engaged in a conversation. He noticed how uncomfortable I was in that narrow seat and lent me an air cushion to put around my neck, that saved my life.
Despite being summertime, it was utterly cold. Early morning there was a stop, Jimi had cigarrettes and we got out to smoke in the parking lot. It was freezing there in the biting wind.
Não consegui dormir, mesmo com a almofada . Ao romper da aurora, já estava com a câmera grudada no vidro da janela.
Lamentei não ter um celular naquela hora para manter contato com Jimi. Ele poderia me ligar quando terminassem seus compromissos, mas eu nem sabia onde iria me hospedar. Então só trocamos e-mails e até hoje somos amigos no Facebook.
I tossed and turned but could not sleep. Came dawn, my camera was already pressed in the windowpane.
So sad I didn’t have a mobile to keep in touch with Jimi. He would call me when he was finished with his appointments, but I didn’t knew where I was going to stay in Edimburgh. But we exchanged e-mails and still today we’re friends in Facebook.





