...So as soon as we get off the train in Madrid, we realized we had less than 30 minutes to get to the bus station before the bus left. We frantically tried to figure out the best/fastest way to get there, knowing that walking was not an option. So we found a taxi, and tried to be patient in Madrid traffic as our cab driver headed to the bus station. As he drove, he asked us where we were from and (like the sweet old lady in Segovia) was impressed by how well we understood Spanish. We told him why we were in such a hurry, and he assured us that there is “mucho tiempo” (a lot of time) for us to get there, print off our tickets, and get on the bus. So we breathed a little easier for the rest of the trip. As we got out of the taxi, he told me (the last one to get out) to “cierra la puerta despaciomente” (close the door slowly) and I said “Sí” and he seemed skeptical that I knew what he meant, but I slowly closed the door and he gave me a thumbs up (I guess he hates people slamming the doors to his taxi), then we ran across the street and into the bus station.
Three of the six of us already had their tickets printed, but Kaitlin, Karen, and I were planning to print them off that morning, before the Segovia trip that we missed half of. So, as we entered the bus station we had to figure out how to print them. The 3 who planned ahead went ahead and ran to the bus. Kaitlin (since she planned ahead and wrote down her ticket number from the online receipt) was able to get hers pretty quickly, then Kaitlin ran to the bus. Karen and I, since we were planning to have internet access when we printed them, were not able to print our tickets, because our ticket number was still online, not written down. (Mistake #1). Then we looked at our only other option: the line to buy tickets, which had at least a dozen people in it. At that point, I felt defeated and thought “this isn’t going to happen. We’re going to miss the bus”, so when Karen asked me “Do you think they would let us cut in line?” I said “I doubt it. Probably not.” But (thank the Lord) she asked anyway. The first lady in line, after Karen explained to her (in Spanish) what was going on, said “No. Lo siento.” And continued onto the next available clerk. The guy behind her, after Karen explained the situation to him (in Spanish), let her get in front of him. Then she asked “Y mi amiga también?” (“And my friend too?”) and he looked at me and what I hoped was a pitiful, puppy-dog look and said “Sí. Bien.” So we got to the window where the guy was selling tickets, and he initially told us he couldn’t print our tickets without our ticket numbers. (Previously, we had been told we would only need our passports and credit cards to verify our ticket.) I asked him, about to cry, “¿No puedo ir?” (“I can’t go?”) and Karen pleaded with him that our bus was leaving in 5 minutes (to which he lectured us on how we have to get there early, etc.) and we explained that our train was late and we couldn’t help it. Finally, he asked us our names, typed in the ticket numbers that corresponded with our name, and printed them off! (My theory is, he was more lenient with us since we were able to communicate in Spanish, because he probably deals with tourists all the time who can’t speak his language.) He told us it was bus “dos uno”. (as in, 2-1, not 21).
So as soon as we got our tickets, we ran down to where the buses were. We asked a random guy where “2-1” was, and he directed us toward “21” (probably assuming we didn’t know how to say “veintiuno”, the Spanish word for 21.) When we got the parking spot for bus 21, it was empty. We immediately thought we missed it. We were both about to cry (mainly out of anger, since it would have been wasted money on the bus AND the hostel we reserved), and I was talking about what we could do in Madrid before going back to Alcalá (because at least we weren’t abandoned in a boring town!) when Karen took out her phone and called one of our friends on the bus. When she answered, Karen said “We missed it. You guys left already didn’t you?” But the girl on the phone said “No. We’re pulling out now!” So we looked for the bus that was pulling out, and as soon as we saw it, we ran toward it—Karen literally running into the street in front of it to stop it! Miraculously, the bus driver opened the door for us, and we got onto the bus to the sounds of clapping and cheering (I’m not making that up—our friends, and a few people sitting near them who probably heard them talking about what was going on, literally cheered for us when we walked onto the bus). We found our seats, sat down, and a few minutes later took this picture to capture the emotion:
Basically, we definitely wouldn’t have been able to go if we were typical tourists who don’t speak the language! Because the guy in line wouldn’t have let us in front of him, and the ticket salesman would have dismissed us at the beginning. (Also, couldn’t have done it without Karen’s boldness in asking to cut in line, and her persistence with the ticket guy!)
So, on the bus we were able to breathe and relax, for the first time all day pretty much. We slept a little bit, and we watched the Spanish version (as in, American actors, with Spanish voices dubbed over and Spanish subtitles for the hearing impaired) of the movie “Boat Trip” (a pretty raunchy, questionable movie, but at least I practiced my Spanish while I watched it).
When we arrived at the bus station in Valencia, it was about 11:30pm. Now we just needed to find our hostel (4 of the girls reserved a hostel before they knew Kaitlin and I were going, so they had their own room at one hostel. Kaitlin and I reserved an all-female room at a different hostel, because we didn’t want to end up with random guys at their hostel). In the process of trying to get directions to our hostel (Mistake #2: Not writing down the address), we met some guys from Mississippi, who heard us talking and asked us if we were American, where we were from, etc. We told them our situation, and they offered for us to go with them and stay at their hostel so we didn’t have to walk alone. It was a tempting offer, and seemed the safest, but more expensive, offer (since we would have been paying for 2 hostels instead of one), so we decided to try to find ours. One of the guys, Lee, gave us his number (one of the girls in our group let us borrow her phone, since neither Kaitlin nor I have one that is usable in Spain) and said to call him if we couldn’t find it or needed him to come help us. So that was super nice of him, and made us feel better about being in Valencia at night, just the two of us.
We asked the bus ticket guy if he knew where our hostel was, he had no idea what we were saying because the name of the hostel is in English. Then we asked the old man at the Information booth, but he said all he has is a bus schedule, nothing else. And the phone book is apparently a foreign concept here too. We finally were able to get a map at least. But then we were pretty much on our own and had no clue where to go. We went outside, where taxis were lined up, waiting for people like us. We asked one taxi driver if he knew where our hostel was, but again, since the name of it is in English, he couldn’t understand what we were talking about. We said we have the address on the internet, but didn’t have a computer or a way to look it up. He then took out his phone, and Kaitlin typed in the name of the hostel, and the cab driver used that to look up the address. Once he figured out the address, he knew where to go (thank the Lord for Google and smart phones!).
We got to the hostel around 12:15, waited in the lounge for a few minutes, where they had computers and internet access, then finally got to our room. As soon as we opened the door, we turned the light on, and quickly realized that 2 girls were already in there, trying to sleep. Luckily, they were American (or at least they spoke English) and told us we could turn the light back on to get settled in. So they were really nice. (Later, when we were asleep, 2 other girls came in and turned on the light and the process started over. These girls were Spanish, though, so we told them in Spanish it was okay to turn the light on). So, overall my first hostel experience wasn’t bad, because the girls in our room were nice and I didn’t lose sleep due to paranoia about theft or murder or anything. However, the problem we had with the hostel was the noise—since there was no a/c, the windows were open and the people on the streets were really loud. Also, at 3:00 in the morning we woke up to a girl screaming, in English “Stop! Help!” etc., and we couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying. Between her yells, we could hear men saying things in Spanish like “Hola…” etc., so we could tell they were bothering her or scaring her. I barely remember this since I was half-asleep, but one of the girls in our room got up and looked out the window, so I think she was watching to make sure the girl outside was okay. Then, at 4:30am, the 2 English-speaking girls got up to leave to catch a plan, so I woke up again to their rustling around. The next morning, I got to take the first hot shower I’ve had in Spain! It was a co-ed bathroom, which was weird to me at first, but it was worth it because of the hot water…
After checking out of the hostel at 9:00am, we got a text from the other 4 girls saying they were at the beach, and telling us which bus to take. This was a change from our original plan, which was to go to this science museum that’s apparently really famous in Valencia. So Kaitlin and I (much like our Madrid experience last weekend) decided to do our own thing. After a quick 10-minute walk from our hostel back to the bus station, and stopping for breakfast at a cute little pastry shop, and some trouble getting to the right bus stop, we made it to the museum by 11:00ish. After seeing most of the museum, we ate at the museum restaurant, where I tried paella (a famous, authentic Valencian dish) for the first time! It was delicious. (Basically, rice with a bunch of random seafood mixed in). Then, after looking at the gift shop and buying some souvenirs, we changed into our swimsuits in the museum bathroom and went to find the bus that would take us to the beach.
We got to the bus stop (the correct one this time) less than a minute before it came and picked us up! It was the best luck we’d had with transportation in over 24 hours! We got to the beach and I got a drink called “horchata” which one of my teachers recommended. It has a similar taste to chai, or vanilla ice cream, and it apparently comes from a fruit. I guess like squeezing a coconut and drinking the milk. Here’s a picture of me drinking it, once we found our friends (who had been on the beach all day):
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| Even though it's in a Coke cup, it was horchata! And it was delicious. |
So we hung out on the beach for about 2 hours, took some stereotypical jumping pictures. (I pretty much nailed this one);
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| Karen, me, and Kaitlin. |
…and I stepped into the Mediterranean Sea for the first time! It was a wonderful afternoon on the beach, although I do wish we could have been there longer.
So we left the beach around 5:00pm, because our bus was leaving at 6:30 this time and we wanted EXTRA time to get there (we thought we had learned our lesson at that point). Before leaving the beach, we asked someone the best way to get to the bus station, and she told us we could take the “Metro” and it would pretty much be a straight shot. But when we got to the nearest Metro stop, the map was confusing and it didn’t look as direct as we thought. Our next idea was to take the same bus route back that we did to get there, but we realized that could take over 30 minutes, plus any additional time to wait for each bus, since we would have to change buses a couple times. As we were trying to figure out what to do, and receiving several different opinions from the locals, we decided our best bet was to take a Taxi. We finally were able to flag one down, and he got us to the bus with 30 minutes to spare! We even had time to change out of our swimsuits in the bus station bathroom, and sit and relax before our bus even arrived.
This bus ride, we watched a movie called “Bella,” and it was really good! (but also quite sad/emotional) It was also in Spanish, but a lot less perverted/inapprope than the other bus driver’s movie choice. I was also glad I could understand at least 95% of what the movie was saying!
When we got to the Madrid bus station, we knew we needed to get back to the train station before the last train left for the night (the trains stop running at a certain point, but the buses run all night. So a bus was our back-up plan, but that particular bus left from a station on the opposite side of Madrid). This time, thanks to Karen, we successfully got on the Metro that took us straight to our train station, “Atocha”, and we quickly found the train that would take us to Alcalá. Since we were so paranoid about our bad luck with the Spanish transportation system, we were worried for a while that we were somehow on the wrong train, because at first nothing looked familiar to us. But we asked a guy on the train, and he assured us we were on the right one. A while later, when he was getting off at his stop, he turned to us again and told us that Alcalá was just a few stops away. This time, the random helpful stranger was right.
When we got off the train at good ‘ole Alcalá, I literally wanted to kiss the ground! It was the most stressful traveling experience of my life, and it was so nice to be on familiar territory once again. After a quick walk from the train station, KAitlin and I were home!! Or, at least, our home away from home. (This apartment has never felt so home-like until now! And this bed never felt as comfortable until last night, when I slept like a baby for 11 hours, recovering from the long, stressful journey). We walked in the door, Madre Carmer greeted her “niñas” and offered to make us dinner! (It was midnight). We told her we didn’t need dinner, we just wanted to sleep. And that’s what we did.
And that is the end of my Segovia/Valencia adventure. Next weekend, Kaitlin and I are staying in Alcalá…
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