(no subject)
I feel so tired... I was on my way back to the pension for a sleep when I called the hostel in Lisbon, and they said they had only one spot left, from Monday, and that I had an hour to book it online. So here I am, online again. My eyes are blurry with fatigue, but I have paid 80 cents for this hour and I intend to use it.
It was, of course, about 5 minutes into my 13 hour train ride last night that I took a better glance at the Lonely Planet (there is an argument for following the bloody thing) and found I could have enjoyed a 7 hour bus ride instead. Furthermore, I couldn't book a ticket all the way to Porto, and had to get off at 7.04am at a stop I'd never heard of on the Spanish border, buy an onward ticket there, and get on a train an hour later.
They'd sold out of the little bunk beads, so I was in a seat. For some reason everyone in the carriage (all spanish, this was definitely not a tourist train) seemed aggressively unfriendly so I just tried to get to sleep. And tried. And squirmed. And put on my eye mask. Then my winter jacket. Then took off my jacket. It was one of those nights, although in the end I must have managed about 4 hours sleep when I woke, disoriented and dry mouthed, at 6.30. Why had I woken? Because I had gotten the text telling me I was in Portugal (I get a text like this every time I cross the border). But hang on - I was supposed to get off on the SPanish side, right? I looked around to ask someone where we were, everyone was asleep. There was one woman in the corridor, but she couldn't speak English.
Hang on - what if Portugal is an hour behind Spain, timewise, and I've woken up 30 minutes too late? Where is this train going?! Will the stern train guards beat me if I'm travelling on an invalid ticket? Will I have to catch another train back to Madrid and try again?
Luckily a guard comes along and though he doesn't speak english, indicates to me that I get off in 2 stops time. Phew. I relax. Temporarily. Itºs still dark, and this stop doesn't sound like a big town... what if there is no-one manning the ticket counter? Will I just wait until it opens at 10am or whatever and wait for the next train, and possibly die of exposure? Or would I just jump on the train as it passes, ticketless, rebellious, gormless? They always check tickets too, and I would have a hard time explaining myself in my spanish or their english in this part of the country. As it approaches there are 2 women (of a train of hundreds) getting off also. They don't speak english and judt giggle to each other. As I get off I realise my visions of a train station with breakfast, bright lights, friendly staff and coffee are somewhat askew - this station is half a platform and a rickety building. Graffiti. The closest structure is an old car park, and some kind of water tower. My heart sunk.
However, I walked to the building and saw a cafeteria with 5 working men around a bar. I got my courage together, their heads swiveled around at me, their gaze following my progress. My over-cheery Hola! was followed by a short silence, but thañkfully my tremulous 'does anyone speak english' was met by a 'yes, little'. He tells me that I just have to buy my ticket on the train, and turns out to be a right friendly old fella. All is well in the world.
So, Porto. Pretty amazing place. Will go into more detail later. Felt lonely and lost at f~irst but couldn't helçp but get interested.
It was, of course, about 5 minutes into my 13 hour train ride last night that I took a better glance at the Lonely Planet (there is an argument for following the bloody thing) and found I could have enjoyed a 7 hour bus ride instead. Furthermore, I couldn't book a ticket all the way to Porto, and had to get off at 7.04am at a stop I'd never heard of on the Spanish border, buy an onward ticket there, and get on a train an hour later.
They'd sold out of the little bunk beads, so I was in a seat. For some reason everyone in the carriage (all spanish, this was definitely not a tourist train) seemed aggressively unfriendly so I just tried to get to sleep. And tried. And squirmed. And put on my eye mask. Then my winter jacket. Then took off my jacket. It was one of those nights, although in the end I must have managed about 4 hours sleep when I woke, disoriented and dry mouthed, at 6.30. Why had I woken? Because I had gotten the text telling me I was in Portugal (I get a text like this every time I cross the border). But hang on - I was supposed to get off on the SPanish side, right? I looked around to ask someone where we were, everyone was asleep. There was one woman in the corridor, but she couldn't speak English.
Hang on - what if Portugal is an hour behind Spain, timewise, and I've woken up 30 minutes too late? Where is this train going?! Will the stern train guards beat me if I'm travelling on an invalid ticket? Will I have to catch another train back to Madrid and try again?
Luckily a guard comes along and though he doesn't speak english, indicates to me that I get off in 2 stops time. Phew. I relax. Temporarily. Itºs still dark, and this stop doesn't sound like a big town... what if there is no-one manning the ticket counter? Will I just wait until it opens at 10am or whatever and wait for the next train, and possibly die of exposure? Or would I just jump on the train as it passes, ticketless, rebellious, gormless? They always check tickets too, and I would have a hard time explaining myself in my spanish or their english in this part of the country. As it approaches there are 2 women (of a train of hundreds) getting off also. They don't speak english and judt giggle to each other. As I get off I realise my visions of a train station with breakfast, bright lights, friendly staff and coffee are somewhat askew - this station is half a platform and a rickety building. Graffiti. The closest structure is an old car park, and some kind of water tower. My heart sunk.
However, I walked to the building and saw a cafeteria with 5 working men around a bar. I got my courage together, their heads swiveled around at me, their gaze following my progress. My over-cheery Hola! was followed by a short silence, but thañkfully my tremulous 'does anyone speak english' was met by a 'yes, little'. He tells me that I just have to buy my ticket on the train, and turns out to be a right friendly old fella. All is well in the world.
So, Porto. Pretty amazing place. Will go into more detail later. Felt lonely and lost at f~irst but couldn't helçp but get interested.