The Journey Home

Having packed my two cases full to bursting, I had to lug them plus a big backpack across the metro system to Chamartin station where the Paris-bound tren hotel leaves from. Typical Spain, they waited until about 15 minutes before departure to display (and probably to choose) the platform it would be leaving from. I was a bit surprised when I got on to find I wasn't in a sleeper compartment but the (apparently only) carriage with reclining seats instead. I'm not quite sure how I managed that, maybe I was just assigned it when I booked. Anyway, there was plenty of room and the seats were comfortable enough. No power sockets though, disappointingly.

Off it chugged, north out of Madrid, leaving the four towers in the distance, through some beautiful mountain scenery in the evening sun, before emerging onto wide yellow plains that made for a pretty spectacular sunset. One thing was that it wasn't as smooth a ride as I'd expected. Walking down through the many, many carriages (about 8) to the buffet car, I had to hold onto the walls to keep my balance.

This turbulence didn't stop me from getting a pretty good nights sleep though. It was comparable to sleeping on an aeroplane I suppose, but with more room and more recline on the seats. I felt quite fresh when we were coming up through much greener France the next morning. No breakfast or anything by the way. I don't know if that's only for people in the sleepers but I saw no evidence of it.

The train arrived in Paris about half an hour late, turning the time pressure up a bit. I had about 40 mins to get from Austerlitz station to Gare du Nord in time for the 30 minute Eurostar check in. Unfortunatley, I'd forgotten that the Paris metro doesn't really do escalators and it was hard work heaving my suitcases up and down stair cases. I've only just got rid of the pain in my shoulders and blisters on my hands! I made it in plenty of time though, it only takes about 20 minutes if you are halfway decent at navigating your way through metro systems.

Boarding the Eurostar, (listening to a woman booming into a mobile "Yes, this is Mrs. Smith, I'm calling for Mrs. Johnson! Yes, Johnson!" in the Queens finest posh English accent- nearly home!) for a while, I thought I'd mistakenly booked myself onto first class. The Eurostar is seriously nice: big seats, power sockets, breakfast, but that's all just standard class. It was nice and everything but I couldn't help wishing it were a little less fancy and a little easier on the pocket. At £130, this part of the journey had cost more than the Madrid-Paris leg, and I don't really need Tropicana orange juice and ye olde English jam with my croissant. I'd rather sit on the floor and pay £30, but maybe that's just me. Maybe they should just have one paupers carriage where they pack you in?

Arrived in London at about 11am feeling pretty pleased to have made it with all cases etc in tact (I'm not good at catching trains on time) and after breezing through customs (they were on strike), I set off with my suitcases on our third capital city metro system in 24 hours. Luckily for my hands and shoulders, I wasn't going up to Sheffield (where my parents' house is) that day but just dropping the cases off at a friend's in Archway and then going straight to work at a festival (hence the delay in writing this).

All in all, I've got to say, it was quite a pleasant trip. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but then again, not quite as romantic as I'd hoped either. I also realised, after taking Kate to the airport in Madrid, and having to do some comical last minute bag 'weight adjustment' ("I'll wear that and that, chuck these!"), it would have costr me a fortune to take all my stuff back by air. On Ryanair your checked luggage is limited at 15kg, and it's €20 for every additional kilogram. Mind you, I did struggle with the cases and it's not an option everyone would want to take (although my suitcases were old and not particularly fit for purpose).

For me, the train was definately the nicest way to travel. I like the journey, and don't like flying for environmental reasons. Also, I find airports quite stressful, and the restrictions annoying. The coach on the other hand, although considerably cheaper, was a little too long, and much less comfortable than the train.

So anyway, it's good to be back and I've been enjoying some much missed pleasures of England (fish and chips, bangers and mash, beer than isn't Mahou), catching up with friends, as well as spending a lovely evening in a picturesque Kent beer garden overlooked by some old hops chimneys.

It took me a while to take in the fact that everyone here speaks English. I found myself muttering and gesturing at waiters and cashiers in supermarkets for a couple of days but once it sunk in, the lack of any kind of language barrier has been great too, chatting away to barmen, taxi drivers and check out assisstants at will.

Catching up with friends and family (and gossip) has been amazing as well. People have got girl/boyfriends, split up, got jobs, changed plans and so on while I've been away and it feels weird to have been out of everything for so long. I also just went to visit my sister and see my nephew who was born while I was out there, which was pretty special. It's definately been the hardest thing for me, and it makes me wonder if I can do another year abroad already come September. Decision to be made very soon!

Arriving

After writing the last post (written in a hurry from Manchester by the way, hence how I could have not yet left but also forgotten underwear), I calculated that, based on previous form, I manage to catch pre-booked transportation about 70% of the time, and that given that there were in total four changes to make (including getting up at 5am in London) I had very little chance of actually making it all the way to Madrid without some problem. But surprisingly, it did all go to plan.

A word about Eurolines buses: They will leave from the place they say, at the time they say, but past that, while travelling on them everything else seems completely incomprehensible. What is the driver saying? How long are we staying here for? Why have we taken a diversion through this tiny French village? What on earth was that woman thinking when she brought her newborn baby on a 15 hour coach journey? Well, I'm having a moan now, but to be honest I did quite enjoy it, even despite having to sit through a dubbed version of The Transporter 3 in very loud Spanish (it didn't really detract from the plot that much, especially once you've grasped the meaning of the word 'mierda' which makes up a good part of the script, along with <Statham punches man/woman/wall/car/himself>). I've always liked long journeys, I think it comes from my mum taking me on 15 hour plane journeys from when I was a newborn baby...

So I'm in Madrid, on the date I planned to be here a couple of weeks ago, feeling probably the most organized I've ever been. After a bit of a hectic journey through the metro system with my heavy bag and suitcase (there's a lot of stairs) and finding the hostel on Plaza Santa Domingo, I spent the early evening having a wander round Sol and La Latina and sitting in the sunshine in the big, open Plaza Mayor that apparently used to host all kinds of 'public entertainment', from bullfights to executions. The main entertainment for me tonight, however, was watching 'fat Spiderman' ply his trade. This essentially involves a rather portly man walking around the square in a cheap Spiderman outfit, comically inducing people to get their photo's taken with him for a small fee. He looked something like Dom Joly gone freelance, particularly when he rolled his mask up to his nose and sat down for a fag break next to some bemused teenagers. He was absolutely raking it in though. I estimated that while I was watching him, he must have been making upwards of 30 Euros an hour. Well, if this job falls through, there's always options I suppose.

Fat Spiderman doing his thing in Plaza Mayor

Anyway, my first impression is very much of a modern, living city where things are happening in every available space – every tiny alcove seems to have a taverna nestling in it - unlike, say, Paris where, although lovely, it can sometimes feel a bit like a historical relic where the modern day, almost apologetically, happens to be going on around it. This feels like a well lived in city made up as much of its people as its buildings, although maybe this is because most of them aren't that impressive (the buildings, not people). I realised before I arrived that I couldn't think of one landmark in Madrid, but thats not really what the place seems to be about. But hey, I've only been here half a day so I reserve the right to go back on all of this later!

Language is proving a bit of a barrier but I can feel myself already picking up words from overhearing conversations and having to find out how to say things. However, I'm in the odd position of coming to Spain and sitting here with an English Grammar textbook – you need it for this English teaching job because they teach English here like we learn French or Spanish at school, based on grammatical structure. I'd never even given the grammatical structure of English a thought before now, probably because its absolutely ridiculous – every rule has exceptions, and there's irregular bits all over the place. It's really like we just made it up as we went along, but I suppose that's what happens when you mash several languages together and let it evolve over time.

I'm off to go explore some other areas today, which is <gasp> cloudy. The hostel owner looked very glum about this this morning and told me “When it rains, we cry.” Good job people don't have that attitude in Manchester...