The post previous to this was the journey
from my home to Spain's capital city. A journey of 1613 miles, which Google
maps informs me would take 7 days and 14 hours to complete - providing you take
a ferry to Santander (or are Jesus) and a lot of emotional turmoil.
This
post is about my day in Madrid before heading for the train to Linares-Baeza
and the subsequent drive to Baeza, some 20km away.
I actually managed
to get some sleep on the Sunday night. I
reckon all the emotions tire you out and the fact that I’d only had a couple of
hours sleep on the Saturday and a busy day coupled with some paracetamol made
for a decent sleep. The hostal was quiet
and as it was a Sunday night there weren’t too many noisy people on the streets
outside. My check-out was at 12 o’clock
and my train at 3.30. There was the
option of leaving your stuff with the staff so I did that and went out to enjoy
a few hours in the scorching sun of Madrid.
I was in need of a
breakfast and after wandering about for a bit found an empty café where I tried
churros, essentially Spanish doughnuts which they eat with chocolate. I’ve had churros before and the ones at this
place were not great. But I
persevered. And after that I was all set
for some walking.
I went back to el
Puerto del Sol and as I was walking around looking for the damn statue of the
bear I stumbled into a tourist and found Kilometre Zero – a single slab on the
pavement marking the dead centre of Spain.
I sat down at one of the fountains and sat in the sun for a while. The weather here is still absolutely amazing,
so hot and not humid. I do love it. Then in the corner of my eye I noticed a
large group of people congregating – aha!
The bear.
After I got another
tourist to take my picture here I set off once more, just wandering aimlessly
down the calles. Two men in business
suits were in front of me and I followed them, seeing where they were
going. I was not disappointed. They walked through an archway and into La
Plaza Mayor. It was so
overwhelming. Its absolutely huge, with a
statue of King Phillips 3rd in the centre and lots of bars and
shops. I went over to the tourist office
to see if they had anything quick that I could do before I had to go to the
station. There was a Lion King
exhibition but as it was a Monday it was shut.
Back to the hostal
and then to the station. I got a little
lost when I reached Atocha because my train was leaving from Atocha Cercianas
which is the local station attached to Atocha.
I had to go ask directions from the information centre because it wasn’t
really signposted. I was also really
worried about my baggage because my ticket said you could only take two pieces
of hand luggage on a RENFE train and these could only weigh 20kg in
conjunction. Well I had 3 pieces
weighing close to 40kg. But it didn’t
matter to them. They just waived me
through. I know that for some trains
leaving the main Atocha train station there is a baggage check-in, so be
careful not to flaunt the rules too much.
I gathered my suitcases and attempted to get down the escalators. This feel apart when myself and my rucksack
and laptop set off but my suitcase stayed where it was…luckily a Spanish man
was just behind me and he brought it down…oops!
I had one more set of escalators to contend with before getting on the
train but I managed that time.
Getting onto the
train was a tad difficult because there was a gap in between the platform and
the train, but once again a young Spanish man lifted my giant suitcase with
ease and another man helped me to shove it into the luggage rack. The train was nice. Lots of legroom and big windows from which I
could look out and see Castilla Leon pass me by and then we entered
Andalucia. Spain is so big, and so
empty. It’s the vastness of its plains
which amazed me. Just nothingness. I was on edge a lot of the journey, even
though I knew what time we were due to arrive.
I just wanted to be there.
Once I got off of
the train I started to look for my landlord Antonio who was due to pick me
up. He and his wife were a little late
but they made up for it in kindness.
Neither of them spoke any English, and my head was so frazzled and their
accent so different that I barely managed to understand any Spanish. So they called their son’s fiancée Lupe who
translated. We had a tour of the town
and then went for some tapas. Ochio
bread – made with olive oil, tomatoes (I think) and salt is a local delicacy
and is one of my new favourites. We also
had pork done in some sort of pesto and picante cucumbers. Yummy.
I got to go into
the school and see the ancient library, but more of that in a separate post me
thinks.
I skyped home and
then settled in for the night. I was so
tired. And so relieved to finally be
here.
