For me the town/city felt dead. Everything was a struggle. From getting a taxi at the bus station yesterday to checking into my room with the woman who all she could say was “Non contiendo”. I get it, you don’t understand. Trust me, I don’t either.
There seems to be some universal European custom that if you are ONE PERSON, you can only stay in a room with ONE BED. This has happened to me before in my previous travels, but the woman last night was incredulous. I seriously thought she was going to call the American consulate to come have my head examined. “UNA PERSONA?” “DOS (insert word for bed here)?”
I felt like Carrie Bradshaw in the last episode of Sex in the City.
There are some words that translate well, which I think of as universal, and if I can read them from a sign on the wall in about 6 different languages, the pronunciation usually is not that difficult. Those words are “credit card”, “train”, “taxi”, “water”, minutes, “attention”… and of course others, but for this story this is all that we need.
This morning I got up for a quick run to see the Ghery building the Guggenheim is housed in one more time, as when I left last night it was dusk and I thought the view this morning would be nice. As I am leaving the hotel, the woman who runs it was outside smoking (maybe that explains why the WHOLE PLACE smelled of cigarettes), while blowing smoke into the breakfast area (I thought this should have been in the reverse, but my thinking and the way of life here were simply NOT JIVING so I just went with it).
When I returned from a quick run, I found Miss Cigarettes again, this time prepared with tools to ensure the conversation ended with “comprende”. I had a map of Bilbao, a notepad and a pen.
I took the map and circled the hotel, “aqui”. I then circled the train station. I next pointed to myself, and then the hotel, “I am here”… I want to go to the train station, and then wrote the word taxi followed by 30 minutos. She kind of got it, and when I had showered and pulled through with my bags she said “taxi – tre minutos”. Yeah… victory!
Paying was a whole other issue involving a lot of “a dei mios”. Trust me lady, my thoughts exactly.
Everyone here seems put out by tourists, or maybe its just me they are not too thrilled with. At the Guggenheim they seemed to get it…anywhere else (minus the ice cream man last night) forgettaboutit. Even the men working at the hotel… never heard of the world chilvalry – must be something that doesn’t translate well.
I don’t pull the damsel in distress card too often, but when you see a woman heaving a bag down a set of winding crooked steps, you help her. Hell, I do it whenever I see ANYONE (man or woman) lugging something too heavy for them. This morning THREE men watched me nearly fall down the steps. Granted, it might have been a funny site to see… but come on, help a girl out. I think its just common sense.
So now I am on the train and bound for Madrid. My friend Sarah has arranged for me for me to meet up with her friend Javier for a few days for him to show me the sites. I am looking forward to being in a bigger city for a few days after this small town feel. If there is a beach, I seem to fit well with the city’s energy. A town in the valley set by a river? Not so much.
I have heard great things about Madrid and have arranged to stay three nights… and maybe longer. Sometime while I am here I want to see a bull-fight, and Madrid may just be the place.
For now I have a 5 hour ride to Madrid, and I think I would be wise to teach myself some Spanish so I feel a bit about better about myself. As right now I am just waiting for my “dunce” cap so I can go sit in the corner.
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