Notes from Tory: a little from column A, a little from column B
7:00 AM Friday, January 29, 2010
Events conspired to make today the best ever, the worst imaginable, and end on a pleasant note. Imagine if you will...
It was a one mile hike from my little Valencia apartment to the main train station. I arrived in just enough time to mail a few postcards before I boarded the train for Madrid. On a whim, I decided to pay the 3 Euro supplement required by my EurRail for a reservation in the first class car. And what I expected to be a dull 3.5 hour train ride became the queen´s treatment for the day. Before we had left the station, I was offered champagne (why say no?). Then, every 15 minutes or so, the staff came down the aisle with more gifts. A small packet of dates and peanuts? Sure! Coke with lemon? Why not? A hot towel to wash your hands? A full lunch menu with salad, cheese ravioli, fresh bread... more bread, then wine, espresso, it went on and on. Arriving in the station, I said yes for the final time: a small piece of Swiss chocolate-- one for the road. Exquisite.
In Madrid, I negotiated my way on the metro to the hotel I had booked for the night. Up till this point it existed to me only as a webpage, and it´s always such a shock to see it appear in real life before my eyes. My back was aching from lugging my pack so I made my way up the stairs to reception.
Here´s where column B comes in. Reception spoke no English, but I could tell there was a problem... the hotel was overbooked and I had been bumped into another hotel. But see, it is not a problem, because it is only 5 or 10 minutes walk. She wrote the address on a scrap of paper. Just exit the building and turn left...
Yeah right.
I walked left, I walked right, lugging my pack all the way. I followed the directions of friendly locals: turn left at the Arab restaurant (it was Greek); turn right off the circle (it was a square). On and on I went, over an hour, my back aching and sweaty, my spirits flagging. Eventually I triangulated from all the directions and found the place. She´d written the name of the street down wrong, so that´s why it wasn´t on any of the maps. Sigh. I checked into my room, slammed the door and burst into tears. Not my finest moment.
But after my tantrum was over (and the pack was off my back), I launched myself onto the streets of Madrid. Valencia was a sleepy provincial town, but Madrid is alive! There are people everywhere: the good, the bad, and the tourists. I snapped pics of street performers and went window shopping in a vast pedestrian district. Tonight I´ll consult my map and find out where I´ve been
Love T
Events conspired to make today the best ever, the worst imaginable, and end on a pleasant note. Imagine if you will...
It was a one mile hike from my little Valencia apartment to the main train station. I arrived in just enough time to mail a few postcards before I boarded the train for Madrid. On a whim, I decided to pay the 3 Euro supplement required by my EurRail for a reservation in the first class car. And what I expected to be a dull 3.5 hour train ride became the queen´s treatment for the day. Before we had left the station, I was offered champagne (why say no?). Then, every 15 minutes or so, the staff came down the aisle with more gifts. A small packet of dates and peanuts? Sure! Coke with lemon? Why not? A hot towel to wash your hands? A full lunch menu with salad, cheese ravioli, fresh bread... more bread, then wine, espresso, it went on and on. Arriving in the station, I said yes for the final time: a small piece of Swiss chocolate-- one for the road. Exquisite.
In Madrid, I negotiated my way on the metro to the hotel I had booked for the night. Up till this point it existed to me only as a webpage, and it´s always such a shock to see it appear in real life before my eyes. My back was aching from lugging my pack so I made my way up the stairs to reception.
Here´s where column B comes in. Reception spoke no English, but I could tell there was a problem... the hotel was overbooked and I had been bumped into another hotel. But see, it is not a problem, because it is only 5 or 10 minutes walk. She wrote the address on a scrap of paper. Just exit the building and turn left...
Yeah right.
I walked left, I walked right, lugging my pack all the way. I followed the directions of friendly locals: turn left at the Arab restaurant (it was Greek); turn right off the circle (it was a square). On and on I went, over an hour, my back aching and sweaty, my spirits flagging. Eventually I triangulated from all the directions and found the place. She´d written the name of the street down wrong, so that´s why it wasn´t on any of the maps. Sigh. I checked into my room, slammed the door and burst into tears. Not my finest moment.
But after my tantrum was over (and the pack was off my back), I launched myself onto the streets of Madrid. Valencia was a sleepy provincial town, but Madrid is alive! There are people everywhere: the good, the bad, and the tourists. I snapped pics of street performers and went window shopping in a vast pedestrian district. Tonight I´ll consult my map and find out where I´ve been
Love T
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