When the Cheshire emerges...

A year ago today I was in Granada, Spain, still recovering from a horror day that included this fountain.

Getting into Granada the morning before, after an overnight train, I decided to try and buy a five-trip ticket on the bus. I knew I was saying it right and I knew the bus driver was saying 20 Euros which was the 10-trip one that I didn't want. Perhaps it was that I didn't understand but he was saying I couldn't buy it. He then took my money and kept 20 Euros worth and gave me the 10-trip. I tried saying no and asking for my money back but he just kept jibbering at me without trying to listen.

I was so frustrated I actually turned to the full bus and shouted 'Does anyone speak English'. In Spanish of course, doing my best with my phrasebook as I had since entering Spain. And do you think ANYONE even murmured an answer? No.

Then I realised it was about where I thought I was meant to get off and I felt so exasperated. A middle-aged woman and a senior woman were trying to ask me something, then realising I couldn't reply spoke to each other as if to figure out what was going on. I managed to get the words for "I'm here two days" and they both went "ohhhh". So even THEY knew I got ripped off and there's nothing I could do.

THEN after getting to my hostel, waiting around and explaining that I wanted to try and sell the ticket to someone to get that 20 Euros, the walking tour I wait for at the fountain never shows. No-one else, no tour guide, nothing. Later in the day I put that ticket to use to find out tickets for the Alhambra castle are usually sold weeks in advance. I had to go that night, missing the Champions League final (with Barca FC) I was so keen to go to a pub and watch, having been in Barcelona the day before.

Overall, I felt so emotionally frustrated I walked around in tears for most of the day. And when I wasn't I looked and felt like I was about to.

Day two was a bit better. The ticket wasn't used up but did come in handy somewhat. It was just so frustrating that I was trying so hard to speak the language and it was STILL impossible to evoke any sort of help for people, especially after the Barcelona episode.

***

The next two days, in Sevilla, were surprisingly better. It didn't come without its own example of language/emotive barriers though... I went to the renfe information room at the train station on arrival after the man didn't understand my ticket query at the general counters. I ask if they speak English (again in Spanish, it was always in fucking Spanish because I'm not ignorant enough to assume English is the world's only language and I TRIED) and the chick just looks at the guy, they turn their heads back and just snigger.

Actual SNIGGER.

I seriously was so frustrated at yet ANOTHER negative welcome/response from people in the transport industry I actually gave them a big 'Fuck you' and stormed out. It was there I seriously considered going straight to Madrid and changing my ticket to fly out a week early. Atrocious.

Having said that I came out of Sevilla with a new Aussie friend, and from both places with some great sightseeing under my belt. Take a look.