Taking the bus from Anglia Square in Norwich

If you need to go by bus in Norwich, England, there is no way of avoiding Anglia Square. How can I, a Dutch person, describe Anglia Square? Most significant is the ugly flyover that has destroyed the character of Magdalen Street. A lot of shops have been demolished. After that was done, there obviously was no money left to modernise or develop new shops or different buildings. On one side next to the pavement they have dumped rubble on the wasted land. So people park here. Some of their cars are fit for the junk yard. Some shops in the street has been closed, a few others are dumping goods so they might follow soon. Collapsing roofs are common for the shops and the paint is flaking off most buildings.

On the other side of the road there are two stalls: one sells vegetables and fruit, the other one sells hamburgers and chips. There is a constant smell of old grease near it. They get their electricity from an oil generator, like this is a temporary situation. But it is not.

There are men dressed in a peculiar way who loudly make deals amongst each other. I doubt if the police would agree with their trade. The young people that are here, are decorated with metal pieces in their faces. Rings pierced through lips and eyebrows are favourite. If they have it, they like to show the ugly tattoos they have in their necks. Girls have at least three colours of hair. I see the combination of pink, purple and blue the most. To me it seems that they are celebrating ugly people’s day every day over here.

But you do have to come here, almost every bus passes this bus stop. So we waited here.

We had to wait a long time on this day. It was very cold and wet, maybe more people than normal were using the buses. First we saw some Park and Ride buses going along. Hardly anyone was sitting in these, but they are only meant for people who have parked their car outside the city. The people standing in line all must have been jealous, just like us. We would love to get out of this miserable weather.

More and more people joined the queue. One lady started to smoke and stepped away a bit. After finishing her cigarette she got on her spot again. I really admired this behaviour; in the Netherlands the person with the sharpest elbows goes first.

There came a bus, number 21, but this one was full already. Three persons squeezed themselves in and it left. The rest of the people remained silent in line in the drizzle.

After two more Park and Ride buses had passed a bus, number 22, arrived. Sometimes being a bit handicapped is an advantage. My wife used her walking-stick very obviously, a man gave her the seat he was sitting on. I tried to stand a bit close to her. Bumping and swaying we drove away on the narrow road. Now and then the bus had to go on the pavement when there was a car coming from the opposite direction. People jumped into gardens like this was normal. I was amazed why this wasn’t a one way street.

After a girl with blue and green hair and a tattooed neck got out, I could take a seat. The middle aged lady next to me asked me if I was okay. I was, of course, now I could sit. It wasn’t perfect. I didn’t want to hurt the lady’s feelings by squeezing my nose. The stench was unbearable. It was a mix of mothballs and old sweat.