Transportation Exasperations
Ok, so now that you've gotten to soak up all of the amazingness that was my weekend, I can tell you about the bad part.
When we got to the train station, we went to the platform where we were suppose to go. However, this station worker told us that we were in the wrong spot and then showed us to the line where she said we should wait. I wanted to make sure I understood her, so I asked her a second time for clarification and once again she pointed us to the same line. So we waited there with a bunch of other people for about half an hour before the line finally moved. As they were punching our tickets, the attendant says to us that we were in the wrong spot and that our train had already left. She let us through a gate so that we could check to see if there was any possibility that our train was still there. It wasn't. As we came back up, the same lady who had given us false directions, accosted us and demanded to know why were in her area and why we weren't in the line. I started to explain and she interrupted me to say "Tell me the truth." This crazy lunatic was treating us like terrorists or something and was continueing to insist that we needed to get back in the wrong line. The guy didn't speak English so in my half-hysterical, sleep-deprived state, I had to try and explain our situation in Spanish. He said that we could get our money back, but that we'd have to wait until the next morning when the offices opened at 6:30. He also said that we'd have to pay the difference in price if we wanted to ride the trian the next morning. I started filling out a complaint form when I saw that horrible women. I went up to her and asked her what her name was. Right at this moment, they told me the office was closing and snatched the form out of my hand, half-finished. I'd asked if we could spend the night in the station and he'd told me yes.
After an hour of sleeping on a station seat while Laura sat guard, the intercom announced that the station was closing. So, we ended up stranded ouside at 12:30 in the middle of the night until the station was to open at again at 4:30. There wasn't any point to rent a hostel and since we didn't want to risk using the metro at that hour, we found ourselves a well-lit patch of cement outside the station and set up camp. We set out Laura's sleep sack to sit on in the middle of the cement because we didn't want to sit any where near the walls because Spaniards so frequently relieve themselves in such spots. We new that we couldn't sleep because that would just be a fool-hardy idea so we read travel books, made phone calls, and tried to do homework to pass the time. You will see some very interesting people at 3:00 in the morning outside a train station. We stayed ever vigilant and Laura kept her swiss army knife at hand. I now have a better understanding of what it is like to be homeless in a city.
The next morning we learned that there weren't any seats on the trains until 4:00. The worker didn't some checking and found out that he could get us some seats for the 9:00 AM train for an extra 26 Euros each. I told him to give us our money, and we found our way to the bus station via the metro. Finally, we were able to buy some bus tickets to Madrid for 8:00 for the measly price of 25 Euros. The bus took forever, but at least we were free of the stupid train workers. I was pretty much destroyed by the time that I got home; my arms felt so extremely heavy as I took a picture of us in the Segovia bus station, but at least we made it back. Yesterday I went to bed at 7:00 and slept until 8:30 this mornign. It is an amazing story now, but I hope to never repeat this sort of experience again.
PS: I would like to take this moment to thank those who un-knowingly aided me in this journey: Andrew: who gave me the ipod that kept me awake as a stuggled not to sleep in the street
Jan: Who gave me the beautiful green hat that I used for my performance money and to cover my horribly greasy hair.
When we got to the train station, we went to the platform where we were suppose to go. However, this station worker told us that we were in the wrong spot and then showed us to the line where she said we should wait. I wanted to make sure I understood her, so I asked her a second time for clarification and once again she pointed us to the same line. So we waited there with a bunch of other people for about half an hour before the line finally moved. As they were punching our tickets, the attendant says to us that we were in the wrong spot and that our train had already left. She let us through a gate so that we could check to see if there was any possibility that our train was still there. It wasn't. As we came back up, the same lady who had given us false directions, accosted us and demanded to know why were in her area and why we weren't in the line. I started to explain and she interrupted me to say "Tell me the truth." This crazy lunatic was treating us like terrorists or something and was continueing to insist that we needed to get back in the wrong line. The guy didn't speak English so in my half-hysterical, sleep-deprived state, I had to try and explain our situation in Spanish. He said that we could get our money back, but that we'd have to wait until the next morning when the offices opened at 6:30. He also said that we'd have to pay the difference in price if we wanted to ride the trian the next morning. I started filling out a complaint form when I saw that horrible women. I went up to her and asked her what her name was. Right at this moment, they told me the office was closing and snatched the form out of my hand, half-finished. I'd asked if we could spend the night in the station and he'd told me yes.
After an hour of sleeping on a station seat while Laura sat guard, the intercom announced that the station was closing. So, we ended up stranded ouside at 12:30 in the middle of the night until the station was to open at again at 4:30. There wasn't any point to rent a hostel and since we didn't want to risk using the metro at that hour, we found ourselves a well-lit patch of cement outside the station and set up camp. We set out Laura's sleep sack to sit on in the middle of the cement because we didn't want to sit any where near the walls because Spaniards so frequently relieve themselves in such spots. We new that we couldn't sleep because that would just be a fool-hardy idea so we read travel books, made phone calls, and tried to do homework to pass the time. You will see some very interesting people at 3:00 in the morning outside a train station. We stayed ever vigilant and Laura kept her swiss army knife at hand. I now have a better understanding of what it is like to be homeless in a city.
The next morning we learned that there weren't any seats on the trains until 4:00. The worker didn't some checking and found out that he could get us some seats for the 9:00 AM train for an extra 26 Euros each. I told him to give us our money, and we found our way to the bus station via the metro. Finally, we were able to buy some bus tickets to Madrid for 8:00 for the measly price of 25 Euros. The bus took forever, but at least we were free of the stupid train workers. I was pretty much destroyed by the time that I got home; my arms felt so extremely heavy as I took a picture of us in the Segovia bus station, but at least we made it back. Yesterday I went to bed at 7:00 and slept until 8:30 this mornign. It is an amazing story now, but I hope to never repeat this sort of experience again.
PS: I would like to take this moment to thank those who un-knowingly aided me in this journey: Andrew: who gave me the ipod that kept me awake as a stuggled not to sleep in the street
Jan: Who gave me the beautiful green hat that I used for my performance money and to cover my horribly greasy hair.