Hollady!
Today was a fiesta, so I decided (at 10 PM last night) to go to Salamanca. But I have no proof besides a series of train and bus tickets because I forgot to take my camera. I remembered my drawing pencils, but it was too cold to speed draw.
When I looked up the forecast online, it was 43°, and the first thing I thought was, "But...it's winter!" I'm so proud.
As it turned out, trains to Salamanca leave from Chamartín train station, and I've only ever used Atocha because Atocha is super awesome cool (read: it's where AVE leaves from), and I thought Chamartín would be pretty much the same despite the following:
1. It is not Atocha
2. I booked a budget, slow-as-molasses train, not the super high-tech, tear-inducing wonder that is AVE
3. It's not Atocha
4. It's closer, but not THAT much closer
So, I leave only an hour beforehand, which means that the Metro delivers me there with fifteen minutes to spare, which I spent wandering, then running around trying to find the kiosk that they have in Atocha where I give them my magic Internet code and they print me a ticket. None were forthcoming. With three minutes to go before go time, a kindly old representative patiently explained that in this case, they print out the tickets beforehand and give them to the guy who checks for tickets after everyone is already trapped on board.
This, however, failed to resolve the dilemma that I had no assigned seat, so I lurked in-between compartments for a half-hour trying not to accidentally open the door and being almost unsuccessful by thinking too much about it. Ticket-Checker Man arrived and told me that I was so special, I could take any seat that was free. He said he saw a free one waaaay at the other end of the train. I wasn't all that keen to sit by someone anyway because all that running around had made my scent-er, less than enviable. But my sentiments were mooted when TCM opened the door to the next compartment to reveal a seat occupied by nothing but luggage in a country with Baggage Segregation laws fully in force. The old man cheerfully transfered it to the overhead rack, and he immediately struck up a conversation (so as not to breathe in through his nose). Turns out he's from Argentina, and he's going to the university in Salamanca (which happens to be one of the oldest in the world) to peruse certain items from its libraries. We talked about lots of stuff for two-and-a-half hours, and I was explaining the length of the terms of Senators and Representatives in the United States Congress when we pulled into the station.
Off he went to the university, while I sneakily followed unsuspecting American tourists onto a bus because all my guidebook had to say about getting to the sights of Salamanca was "everything is so close together you can't miss it," which apparently did not take into account the two-kilometer distance between the train station and the Plaza Mayor.
Plaza Mayor was easy to find, though, and it is indeed beautiful. I then boldly struck out to find the cathedrals, but boldness has no sense of direction. I went in the opposite direction.
Going the right way, I found my way to the entrance of the university, where I ran into a certain Argentine who had been given bad directions for finding the library, so out came the guidebook and it was relevant. We struck off, and when we came to the entrance he left his luggage with me for a bit while he went to get a security pass. I had my trench coat on, so I just concentrated on looking as scary as possible. Nothing happened, so I can market it as an inspirational success story.
Off I went, and found the cathedrals. There's a 12th century one with a 16th century cathedral built alongside it because they couldn't get the squatters out. The entryway of the newer one is high decorated, and among the saints, angels, nuns, popes, and skulls, there is a single frog, and I joined the crowd searching for it. I didn't find it, and in shame I entered the cathedral, which I have been told by several comedians is the proper way to enter one.
It was cool, but I liked the older one better. I don't know why. It's smaller, austere, and had a lot of dead people in the annex.
I then wandered aimlessly until the sun set, then I returned to the Plaza Mayor so as to see it floodlit. I'd seen photos, and they were cool. But of all the public lights, the only ones that weren't lit were in the Plaza Mayor. So I took a nice paseo, walking in giant circles within the square, watching the people who crossed my path and imagining how cool it would be if a kitten were to suddenly run up and jump on my shoulder, and how difficult it would be to smuggle it back home. After I walked clockwise for fifteen minutes, I decided to walk counterclockwise to avoid uneven wear in my ankles, but after only five minutes the lights turned on in an explosion of bright, honey-colored stone. It was awesome. People cheered.
Then I wandered down to the bus stop I'd been dropped off at, only then to realize it was on a one-way street and therefore unlikely to offer return service. But I looked at the map they had and struck off boldly to find the street that would take me home, and thank goodness I went in the right direction this time because if not, I'd probably have felt really stupid.
I found another bus stop which told me (in an annoying falsetto) that Line 1 was the one I wanted. After ten minutes, as I was poking around somewhere inside my skull looking for something to think about, a bus passed, and my eyes were good enough to register the "1" on it. I then did a rather good impression of panicked arm waving and screaming (in Spanish, for which I'm proud), but some nice people where were waiting for me told me that that bus was an inter-city bus, not a regular bus. I think it was good of them to calm the insane foreigner instead of tackling me or something.
So I got back to the train station a half-hour early, and I got a good luck at the food court before deciding I had no money, and the train arrived and I got on (with an assigned seat, no less) and I started reading my magazine, learning about a simplified theory for chain reactions evolving into life, a conservation movement aiming to reintroduce lions, cheetahs, camels, and elephants to North America, and specialized anesthesia drugs which can independently produce analgesia, immobility, amnesia, and unconsciousness instead of all of them at once. At one point I happened to look up and saw a familiar Argentine in the same compartment. He looked tired, though, so I just waved. We did exchange a few words when we arrived back at Chamartín.
There was a entrance directly to the Metro from the platform, but I took the long way and was treated to a wonderful view of the new Cuatro Torres Business Area, which looks really cool.
The Metro was really crowded for this time of night when I was coming home. There was a girl sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out with her friends surrounding her, and I thought she must be drunk, but then I noticed one of her friends was carrying a half-empty 2-liter bottle of Coke, and then I didn't know what to think. Maybe she always sits that way.
Then I arrived home, and I made spaghetti for dinner, and I ate it with tomato sauce and olive oil. I have carbs and fats down, but what do I do for protein?
When I looked up the forecast online, it was 43°, and the first thing I thought was, "But...it's winter!" I'm so proud.
As it turned out, trains to Salamanca leave from Chamartín train station, and I've only ever used Atocha because Atocha is super awesome cool (read: it's where AVE leaves from), and I thought Chamartín would be pretty much the same despite the following:
1. It is not Atocha
2. I booked a budget, slow-as-molasses train, not the super high-tech, tear-inducing wonder that is AVE
3. It's not Atocha
4. It's closer, but not THAT much closer
So, I leave only an hour beforehand, which means that the Metro delivers me there with fifteen minutes to spare, which I spent wandering, then running around trying to find the kiosk that they have in Atocha where I give them my magic Internet code and they print me a ticket. None were forthcoming. With three minutes to go before go time, a kindly old representative patiently explained that in this case, they print out the tickets beforehand and give them to the guy who checks for tickets after everyone is already trapped on board.
This, however, failed to resolve the dilemma that I had no assigned seat, so I lurked in-between compartments for a half-hour trying not to accidentally open the door and being almost unsuccessful by thinking too much about it. Ticket-Checker Man arrived and told me that I was so special, I could take any seat that was free. He said he saw a free one waaaay at the other end of the train. I wasn't all that keen to sit by someone anyway because all that running around had made my scent-er, less than enviable. But my sentiments were mooted when TCM opened the door to the next compartment to reveal a seat occupied by nothing but luggage in a country with Baggage Segregation laws fully in force. The old man cheerfully transfered it to the overhead rack, and he immediately struck up a conversation (so as not to breathe in through his nose). Turns out he's from Argentina, and he's going to the university in Salamanca (which happens to be one of the oldest in the world) to peruse certain items from its libraries. We talked about lots of stuff for two-and-a-half hours, and I was explaining the length of the terms of Senators and Representatives in the United States Congress when we pulled into the station.
Off he went to the university, while I sneakily followed unsuspecting American tourists onto a bus because all my guidebook had to say about getting to the sights of Salamanca was "everything is so close together you can't miss it," which apparently did not take into account the two-kilometer distance between the train station and the Plaza Mayor.
Plaza Mayor was easy to find, though, and it is indeed beautiful. I then boldly struck out to find the cathedrals, but boldness has no sense of direction. I went in the opposite direction.
Going the right way, I found my way to the entrance of the university, where I ran into a certain Argentine who had been given bad directions for finding the library, so out came the guidebook and it was relevant. We struck off, and when we came to the entrance he left his luggage with me for a bit while he went to get a security pass. I had my trench coat on, so I just concentrated on looking as scary as possible. Nothing happened, so I can market it as an inspirational success story.
Off I went, and found the cathedrals. There's a 12th century one with a 16th century cathedral built alongside it because they couldn't get the squatters out. The entryway of the newer one is high decorated, and among the saints, angels, nuns, popes, and skulls, there is a single frog, and I joined the crowd searching for it. I didn't find it, and in shame I entered the cathedral, which I have been told by several comedians is the proper way to enter one.
It was cool, but I liked the older one better. I don't know why. It's smaller, austere, and had a lot of dead people in the annex.
I then wandered aimlessly until the sun set, then I returned to the Plaza Mayor so as to see it floodlit. I'd seen photos, and they were cool. But of all the public lights, the only ones that weren't lit were in the Plaza Mayor. So I took a nice paseo, walking in giant circles within the square, watching the people who crossed my path and imagining how cool it would be if a kitten were to suddenly run up and jump on my shoulder, and how difficult it would be to smuggle it back home. After I walked clockwise for fifteen minutes, I decided to walk counterclockwise to avoid uneven wear in my ankles, but after only five minutes the lights turned on in an explosion of bright, honey-colored stone. It was awesome. People cheered.
Then I wandered down to the bus stop I'd been dropped off at, only then to realize it was on a one-way street and therefore unlikely to offer return service. But I looked at the map they had and struck off boldly to find the street that would take me home, and thank goodness I went in the right direction this time because if not, I'd probably have felt really stupid.
I found another bus stop which told me (in an annoying falsetto) that Line 1 was the one I wanted. After ten minutes, as I was poking around somewhere inside my skull looking for something to think about, a bus passed, and my eyes were good enough to register the "1" on it. I then did a rather good impression of panicked arm waving and screaming (in Spanish, for which I'm proud), but some nice people where were waiting for me told me that that bus was an inter-city bus, not a regular bus. I think it was good of them to calm the insane foreigner instead of tackling me or something.
So I got back to the train station a half-hour early, and I got a good luck at the food court before deciding I had no money, and the train arrived and I got on (with an assigned seat, no less) and I started reading my magazine, learning about a simplified theory for chain reactions evolving into life, a conservation movement aiming to reintroduce lions, cheetahs, camels, and elephants to North America, and specialized anesthesia drugs which can independently produce analgesia, immobility, amnesia, and unconsciousness instead of all of them at once. At one point I happened to look up and saw a familiar Argentine in the same compartment. He looked tired, though, so I just waved. We did exchange a few words when we arrived back at Chamartín.
There was a entrance directly to the Metro from the platform, but I took the long way and was treated to a wonderful view of the new Cuatro Torres Business Area, which looks really cool.
The Metro was really crowded for this time of night when I was coming home. There was a girl sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out with her friends surrounding her, and I thought she must be drunk, but then I noticed one of her friends was carrying a half-empty 2-liter bottle of Coke, and then I didn't know what to think. Maybe she always sits that way.
Then I arrived home, and I made spaghetti for dinner, and I ate it with tomato sauce and olive oil. I have carbs and fats down, but what do I do for protein?