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| Granada (revisited) June 15, 2013 |
¡Hola a Todos! So let's just skip past the part about me not blogging for 6 months, and start over from the beginning. Which, because I'm the author of this story, means I'll start at the end. And I don't actually mean the end, because this international love story between me and Spain is far from over...
16:50 Tuesday, June 25, 2013
So there I was in Madrid's Puerta de Atocha Estación de Tren. With the aid of a kind stranger, I had just stepped off the train with three, overstuffed pieces of luggage, two carry on bags, AND Kona in his travel carrier (which he loathes traveling in).
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| My struggle was so much worse than this. My suitcases were twice as big |
Ignoring the puzzled look on people's faces as they watched me on the platform, I put forth my best "
I can do this shit" attitude, confidently assembled my bags for exit, and 5 minutes later was smoothly walking
backwards towards the escalator. And then I got to the escalator and realized I was majorly fucked. 'Cuz ya know, escalators are
moving stairs, which created the very real danger of me falling face forward as I tried to haul my crap while walking backwards. I tried not to panic, but I was at a loss of how I was going to make it work AND I was blocking the escalator. Another kind gentleman witnessed my dilemma and helped me get on the escalator without face planting. We got to the top of, he helped me get my bags off and just barely out of the way of the travelers who had been trapped behind my little sideshow, and disappeared. Considering that when I got on the train in Murcia, and was fighting the good fight to lift my suitcases into the hold and NOBODY helped me, I was grateful. But then I looked at the 1000+ feet journey just to get to the main vestibule of the train station and my heart sank a little. I made several attempts to walk facing traffic with my bags behind me, only to lose control of them and have them fall sideways nearly taking me down with them, so I surrendered my pride to what worked. I have to say that walking backwards with 200lbs of luggage
and a dog through Spain's largest train station was probably the longest 20 minutes of my life. By the time I made it through the
main terminal and outside to the taxi stand, I could barely stand upright or even speak. But I stammered out my destination address, collapsed into the taxi, and exhaled. I was I halfway to on my way home. In two days I would be in Madrid's airport and heading back to the U.S. for the first time in 10 months. I had made it! So let's go backwards a little more.
