Ok so, so much to say but so busy doing things that I have no time to talk about it. Tonight public transport .... Mañana por la noche voy a tratar de escribir más sobre algunos de los lugares turísticos (thanks Google translate! J)
In Melbourne I am the queen of public transport – it has prepared me well for travel mucho transporto publica internationale. Mi casa es muy cerca de metro staciones - cuatro. 4 stations within 500 metres in every direction! In fact it is quite an easy walk, 15-20 mins, to town. But back to the metro. Trains arrive within 5 minutes – ALWAYS. Why do I live in the only city this does not seem to be the case? Anyways, having said that, there are issues with getting around in Barcelona.
Going down into a metro station is like voluntarily strolling down the throat of a panting dog – an old Labrador with halitosis. Gusts of hot, fetid air that seem to be deprived of oxygen greet you when you enter any station. Most women carry fans … the men just stand close to them and/or sweat!
When changing lines at some stations – like Passeig de Gracia – involves plumbing the depths of the earth and trekking an endless tunnel. Everyone sweats, everyone has a mild creeping anxiety – is there enough air – and everyone walks more quickly as a result. For fucks sake how do those who experience claustrophobia cope? These photos were taken approx in the middle facing each direction.
On the upside catching a lot of PT has meant I have seen some astonishing buskers in the same fetid tunnels. I mean how often can you listen to a harp or Andeluvian pipes at Flinders Street?
There are many buses here too – I have had no need to explore the options here but the seem frequent. Not really sure. I do know there’s a night but given the metro runs til midnight during the week and all night Saturdays and til 2am Fridays, Ive only needed to cab it once or twice oh that reminds me…
I am quite likely to die in Barcelona – certainly I feel that way each time I get into a cab. The fuckers drive on the wrong side of the road – keep in mind I am occasionally intoxicated when in a cab so I seriously have to stop myself from yelling “stop, you’re on the wrong fucking side of the road!” This effects me indirectly too. I walk on the wrong side of the footpath. I get swamped by a sea of people walking the wrong way, I block the wrong side of the escalator and I might in fact die cos some frustrated Catalunyan wants to push me under a car for getting in their way. For that matter they mightn’t need to push … I frequently have to stop myself from walking in front of cars COS THEY’RE DRIVING ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE FUCKING ROAD!
Anyways I should also mention my attempts to book regional trains on my EURAIL pass. DO NOT BUY EURAIL PASSES – they are expensive and then you have to pay large booking fees for your seat – if there is one cos they restrict the number of available seats on each train… but despite that let me tell you about the booking process. I first went to the regional railway station to get timetable so I could plan my travels around Spain – it took dos horas and cuatro queues… TO GET TIMETABLES!
It was funny though, after standing for half an hour in one queue I could see that the guy who was about to serve me was muy frustrated – totally over it! SO I went up all perky “Beunos dias blah blah blah.” Immediately his eyes lit up and he gesticulated wildly gabbing on… obviously bitching about having to deal with foreigners - blah blah, Japoneses, blah blah Americanos, blah blah Alemanias” before I butted in with “y Australiano.” I shared a small smile before the language barriers shat him again.
When I went back to book my tickets – this Saturday I catch the train to Valencia por dias dos, Seville tres, Madrid tres before catching an overnight to Paris, yeehaa - I had a pretty good idea what would be involved. I went prepared practicing how to say “I have been learning Spanish for 2 weeks and can only speak a little, please speak slowly.” When I got to the front of each queue I’d say my line they’d smile/smirk a lot, nod and be quite kind.
The last place I had to wait used one of those ticket machines… my number was ochenta y seis (86) and they were calling cinco (5). I sat and waited chatted to many travellers – bought some nail polish and painted my nails… then went up and said my line, reserved my tickets and went home pretty fucken pleased with myself! Done.
It was only an hour or so after getting home that I realised what I’d actually said was “tiene aprendiendo Española dos semanas y habla en poco, habo lento por favor" …. You have been learning Spanish for 2 weeks and only speak a little, I will speak slowly!
Hasta manana mi amigo/as
