“See them long trains runnin’, And you watch ’em disappear, Without love
Where would you be now?” (Doobie Brothers 1973)
It’s been a long day. Not a bad day, just long… We went today from Leon down to the coast in Cadiz (pronounced kind of like “cadeeth”). Spain is about the same size as South Dakota and North Dakota put together plus about half of Minnesota. St Jean Pied de Port (our starting point in France) would be about Bena, MN and the Compostela would be about Zahl, ND (that will get some of you pulling up your map apps!). Today we got on a train in Minot (Leon) and rode to Aberdeen (Madrid), got on a second train and road to Edgemont (Cadiz). We “eventually” got a train to Edgemont, we actually missed our first one… dang disorientation.
We began the morning in Leon and caught our train to Madrid without any issue whatsoever. When we arrived in Madrid however, the rail agent told us we need to go to another part of the station (“either platform 2 or 3”). Trains came, trains left. We asked an employee if this was the right spot (“yes”)… eventually after asking at least three other agents we were told we need to get on one of those trains and get to the next station (Atocha) while shaking her head and looking at her watch.
So, yes, we got on the train and after a few stops we were at a different train station precisely 10 minutes after our train for Cadiz had left. At this point it seemed difficult to even get someone to help us get help. Some of these conversations evoked memories of racist westerns from my youth:
Me: “hablas Ingles?”
Agent poker faced: “un poco”
Me: “we” (waving hand between Camille and myself) “miss train” (pointing to ticket time)
Agent, eyebrow raised shrugs shoulder
Me: “where” (pointing around station) “customer service?”
Agent, picking teeth: “up stairs” (waving index finger like trying to shoo a fly), “left. Up. Siguiente!”)
For a while I was ready to just ask for the train to the airport but I knew the worst case scenario would mean either buying another ticket, or waiting in Madrid for a day and going tomorrow, and neither one of those options was too onerous. I was just disappointed in our inability to figure things out (like watching people buy fruit in the grocery store again) and a little disappointed no one seems too concerned with my problem. I don’t know how many of you have this experience because it seems most people know their way around a grocery store better than I do, but sometimes when I ask “where would I find ____?” some employees look up and nod their head and say, “Not sure. Try aisle 7?” and the next store they stop stocking the shelves, and escort you over to find said item? The one response feels a little dismissive and the other feels like a little too much service (do I have to tip them when they do that??). The train stations today were the equivalent of the teenager in the stained smock suggesting I should just look harder. Technically not bad advice, but not the help I was looking for.
To be fair, we did have a lovely agent at the Customer Service counter who helped us get back on track, or “the tracks” I should say, just 4 hours later. In the meantime we were able to wander outside the station and have a lovely lunch in Madrid.
I find it funny that I expect so much help (and expect it in English to be sure!). Yesterday, while touring the Cathedral of Leon, I laughed at myself several times when I would see a tomb or an inscription and wonder why they didn’t write it in English too? (Never mind that most of them weren’t even written in Spanish, they were written in Latin!) I am also pretty sure they were actually written before English was invented, or at least the English I can read and understand. You know, the kind where there aren’t f’s that represent “s” sounds and words that end in -yre… et maketh me moft tyred. Maybe one of those cultural things about Americans is that we expect people to accommodate us? Apparently it is for this American.
I have been thinking a good bit about culture and maybe will throw some thoughts down one of these days. The help I need right now I suspect is just a good night of sleep. This is actually the one area I have multilingual fluency as Camille says “everyone snores in the same language”. Really don’t have much for pictures for the day but I will say Spain has some beautiful countryside. It’s beautiful when you walk, it’s beautiful when you bike and it’s beautiful when you are sitting in your train seat gliding through the countryside. I am really grateful we are able yet to do all three.
Buen Camino.
