The Bus Story - the ultimate tale!

Before I give you my account of my time in Barcelona I must give you the Bus Story that I've been promising for so long. On my way back from Barca to Madrid we stopped off at a random town where something happened (I won't say what as it will ruin the story) to remind me of my own first Bus trip.

What follows is an account that I first impressed my theatre comrades in the belly of what was 'Fuel' quiz night in Plymouth. Now re-named 'Mouse Trap' by the unscrupulous Cuba/Air/Mouse Trap Bar group (unscrupulous because of it's gratifying women's toplessness in Cuba - another campaign for another time). What I tell you probably isn't really about what happened and how I developed a slight fear of travelling alone on busses but how I manage to turn a mundane 2 minute tale into a near novel.

Let me take you back to a time much nearer the turn of the millenium when I was a hapless school girl in Cambridge. One Weekend my parents decided to go celeb spotting near St Tropez with a friend of mine's parents who had a chalet down there. The plan was for me to go to this girl's house for the weekend where we would be looked after by her older brother and his then girlfriend (now wife). But how to get from Cambs to Dunmow where she lived? I was instructed to take the bus from the centre of town.

Off I trundled down Cambs picturesque streets - suitcase behind me (I weekly boarded at the time), School uniform on. First problem - finding the ticket office and purchasing right ticket. 5 mins was spent trying to find this, tucked away behind where all the busses stand. Finally found and ticket bought, checked to right destination. Next task - waiting at right stand for bus. Hmmmmmmmmm, waiting, waiting, waiting. OK - it's definitely late now. Am I at the right stand? Ok I am, it's all ok. Oh thank god - as the bus rolls up. A few people climb aboard. To the driver I present my ticket and double check "This does stop at Dunmow?" To which the driver says yes and then asks me this "Are you one of those Stansted Airport hostesses?"

This is more than slightly concerning as let me describe to you my school uniform I was wearing; My blue V-neck jumper might have had the green school crest on the left corner, might not have but looked very schooly anyhow. My skirt which was regulatory knee-length balckwatch pleated tartan. I think it was summer so I probably would have had horrid blue socks on completing the look with boring black flats. Also this was pre-eyeliner era so I probably looked about three years younger than I actually was anyway. Now the only thing I can think of that might have made him say that was the fact that I was wielding a wheelie suitcase - but it was bright purple for God sake! This worried me together with the glazed look in his eyes that made me decide he was definitely on drugs.

Journey begins. As I didn't really know what stop Dunmow was after I checked and it was the one after the Airport. Trouble is with busses is that you don't know what your stop looks like if you haven't stopped there before. Of course with long distance they announce it or are supposed to. But I knew what the airport looked like so was resolved in just getting off at the stop after that. So the airport we pass. Ah yes mine's the next then. Time passes. I notice a sign to Dunmow pointing one way - bus goes opposite direction. Try not to panic. Maybe low bridges or something I think. More time passes. Friend rings me on my Nokia 5110 asking where I am. I say should be there any moment now. More time passes. Friend rings me again and tells me to go up to driver and ask him - I reply that I do not trust his multitasking skills to do such a thing. More time and then - we stop.

Bus driver announces "Last Stop Chelmsford. Everyone off!" WHAT! OMG. I have it out with the driver asking him why he didn't stop. He says he did and that someone got off. And I'm like 'well no, obviously not coz that would have been me wouldn't it?' You nummbskull. Obviously I didn't say that to him but I did start crying. I was in deepest darkest Essex and no idea how to get to where I needed to be. Back on the changeable cover Nokia phone and friend had solution. Luckily big bro's girlfreind's mum lived in Chelmsford and so it was arranged for her to pick me up. So I wait in a desolate bus station nearing dark not surprised at yet another stranger coming to collect me from somewhere.

A woman turns up and introduces herself and takes me back to her house. Not too long later my friend, her brother and the girlfriend arrive also. I apologise for causing such havoc but all's well that ends well as we settled down to a nice tea together. Apparently the girlfriend hadn't seen her mum for a while so it was a nice excuse to get together. Which was good. Ah but what a journey it was that formed much of my inexplicable fears of travelling to scary places on my own.

So, ehum, around the world without a plane completely on my toddle should be fine then shouldn't it. Tune in next time when you'll get to hear about Barcelona.

Granada - the Final day

Sunday I woke up after a delightful sleep, still in Mochi Guesthouse thankgod. Breakfast was lovely, talking with different travellers - a plus. My American friend decided to go on a hike with some other girls around the countryside close by. Buses are available to take you into the hills which supposedly have the best views of the city. Unfortunately they missed their bus so never got there. Buses were only once an hour I think.

I was too worn out from the day before to go trekking. Have I mentioned Granada is hilly? So I took a turn about the town in the morning, taking a rest at Paseo de Los Tristes. Despite the name (Walkway of the Sad, literally translated) it has a delightful view of the River Valley and the Alhambra above. I stopped there to write and eat a little before meeting my friend and another we had bumped into who we knew from Madrid in a Moroccan Tea House near the Albacin.

One of my lasting memories of Granada is that it is more like a little taste of Morocco than one of Spain. I was always planning on visiting Morocco before I left southern Europe but I have never been able to do so. Now I'm a little less sad about never making it over to the African continent because of my visit to Granada. The place we were sitting in was tiny, crammed with tiny stools around Metalic round plates set as tables. The menu listed or course many blends of teas and a Crepe selection. I ruddy love crepes! So a Rose Tea and Bannana, Cream and Chocolate Crepe later I was settled. And on leaving, we all spotted a little sheesha action too.

After the Moroccan place we set off once again into the Sacremento to check out the cave museum. After a slight camp out on their steps (it was closed for siesta) we looked around some ancient caves set in the hills. People have been living in these caves since prehistoric times and lately have enjoyed a revival with hippies reinhabiting some abandonned ones. Another beautiful trait of Granada was it's free and artistic atmosphere. As soon as you hit the Albacin, there's street trade, random little shops. Admittedly some sell the same kind of thing but it's all interesting stuff. It's Uni has a rep. for being best at Drama so that's where all that lot go. And that really comes out when you walk around the town.

I have to go back one day to do some more exploration. Apparently there are some Turkish Baths somewhere.

Granada Part 2

Ok so it's been a long time now since Granada but here's the rest of my experience in the fair city.

Granada is geographicaly a hard city to get around on foot. It's hilly, it get's hot easily. Even in Feb - by the middle of the day we were pretty hot. However there are plenty of bus routes you can take that makes visiting the various different places of interest easier. Our first stop in Granada was the the main square where we were told at the hostel that an American guy runs walking tours of the city starting at the fountain at 11.00am. We got there a few minutes before and the fountain wasn't running. Soon there was a young looking guy standing around with a leaflet held up in the air. We walked over and gradually a few others joined. We waited and talked a little - there were 3 other Americans and an Australian. The tour guide had been one of those never ending travellers who had come to Granada to study a little and decided he liked it so much he stayed. He'd discovered there were no walking tours offered to tourists so had decided to start one himself. The fountain was turned on and he takes this as his sign that no one else is going to show so we the small band of tourists set off.

Luckily for us our guide was not an average Joe. He had majored in Theatre and had literary and artistic tendencies. This, I'm pleased to say, was all incoorated in our tour. Whilst relaying certain interesting historical facts about Granada we were all invited to 'step back in time' in a certain impro, drama type way. As in we were invited to make funny noises and wave our arms around. If you're into something a little bit different (as I am) then this walking tour is definitely reccomended. We spent about 2 hours walking all over Granada, entertained and informed whilst also orientating ourselves.

The guy worked for tips and he took us to the best place with a view to get us to give. Believe me - no problem paying the guy. Completely reasonable rates and an excellent tour. Afterwards he invited everyone to go and have lunch together at some places he knew. Unfortunately, my American friend and I had a date with the Alhambra.

The Palace and grounds are weirdly marketed. They are separate areas to visit with different prices from free to expensive. Inside is what you have to book tickets for to gurantee your visit. On these tickets they give you specific times to go. Either a morning time or afternoon. However when we arrived at our aloted time, the wardens kept on asking for another time that was supposed to be our appointment. To this day I do not know what they were on about. It didn't seem to matter anyway. There was a long line to get into the Palace and once inside I was actually quite disapointed. The rooms we were directed through were fabulously old but there was no information anywhere about the rooms. All these questions kept on popping into my head like 'when was this built?' 'What was this room used for?' 'What King used this?' After a while I got so annoyed that I just started making up the answers myself.

I suggest you spend the extra money on an audio guide. As a British tourist I expect information on the place I'm visiting included in the price of visiting. And whilst the architecutre was fabulous and the gardens amazing to walk round, I just felt disapointed at not actually learning anything about what I had just been seeing. My American friend didn't seem to mind though.

We had also been tipped off at the hostel of a fabulous Flamenco and Dinner show up in the Sacremento hills. Apparently the stage had a backdrop of a window that looked out onto the Alhambra lit up at night. After a freshen up and quick nap, a group of us from the hostel decided to trek up there to it. However we were advised to arrive at a certain time to get tickets, we didn't. We got slightly lost and once we had arived after a long and arduous walk up a never ending hill, we were told that it had allready started and there were no tickets left. Well, eventually were told that by an unfriendly hilltop barman. There were alot of small groups of people hanging around, attempting to open slightly invisible locked doors. No one really knew what was going on and all seemed a bit lost even at the supposed destination.

We slunk back down to Granada central in two different taxis and miraculously met up again in a famed tapas bar just off the highstreet. There we had lots of lovely wine from a generous selection and of course, tapas. The place was packed with fabulously looking people. I was, in my backpacking I don't give **** how I look gear, slightly underdressed. But I didn't care. The high density of people just proved the brilliant atmosphere in the place and I was lapping it up. After the tapas, a girl in group decided that her boyfriend was at a much better place so dragged us all off there. Only she didn't know exactly where it was and again, we all got a bit lost. We eventually settled on a retro looking bar to sit down at. But by this time all the walking had taken it's toll and I was titbit tired.

I headed off to Hostel (proud of myself for finding it all by myself in the dark) and fell into bed to slumber well. The beds at the hostel were extremely comfortable even though the matresses were from Ikea.

Sunday coming up in Part 3