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The pub food caught up with me, not to mention all those crisps and candy bars. I became dog sick, which at least got me out of doing laundry that last night in our London hostel before traveling on to Cornwall. Now, we chose Cornwall because it's beautiful and out of the way, but those qualities, as we found out, mean that it's really hard to get to, so we spent quite a long time outside the train station in Exeter.
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While I huddled, read Newsweek, and tried not to throw up, a bored Steve got artistic with the camera.
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Here's a man who seems as abandoned and despondent as we were. Steve's photos of the day reflect our despair at ever catching a bus that would take us where we needed to go. The schedule had just been changed for the whole region, but that didn't mean they decided to post the new schedule. That would be too easy.
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Every bus that came by, we'd ask, "Are you going to Tintagel?" And they'd all look at us like, "Where's Tintagel?" As it turns out, the regional bus that went directly there had been discontinued. We were soon ready to settle for anything that was going in a general southwesterly direction. Walking in fresh air actually sounded better to me than being cooped up in a hot bus on windy roads. Eventually, though, we found a bus to a nearby town. The local bus that would have taken us to Tintagel had already made its last run of the day (naturally), but a nice woman in a chemist's shop called a cab. We way overpaid, but we so didn't care at that point. As we were driven along the rutted dirt track to the hostel on the cliffs, we kept asking ourselves, "Is this worth it?"
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