We did not get an early start on Saturday. But we really didn't care, there was no big hurry. We eventually made our way to the Starbucks near the hotel, and came to consensus that the blueberry muffin sold in Spain is better than the blueberry muffin sold in Alabama. We also enjoyed a yogurt cup w/muesli. I have to chuckle when I think of Caitlin looking in her Spanish/English dictionary, trying to find out what muesli meant in English. Cait wanted to do a little shopping before we started our voyage to Salamanca. I was quick to show her the little shop that I'd scoped out on Thursday evening. It didn't take her long to find a cute blouse, and it was refreshing to find a shop keeper that provided some personal service. We wandered and shopped for a little while, but eventually it was time. We went back to the hotel, gather our gear and checked out.
Down the stairs into the Alonso Martinez Metro Station, the #10 line one stop to Tribunal. There we picked up the #1 line, six stops to Atocha Renfe, just as we had done the day before. We made our way to the familiar ticket office, where I punched the button and got my number so I could buy our billetes. Turning on my heels to look around, there, waiting for his chance to buy some tickets was my asian friend from a day earlier. We greeted one another as though we'd known each other for years. He told me how the spanish are not the least bit co-dependent. If you miss your train to Toledo, that's just too bad, you can buy some more tickets tomorrow. He asked me about the trip to Seville, I told him the high speed train alone was worth the trip, but the city itself was the most beautiful in Spain. The streets are lined with orange trees whose aroma was liken unto honeysuckle. I could see it in his eyes, he was on the edge, wanting to jump in. It was at this point his oldest son came in and said, "Dad, Mom is at the other ticket office and says that there are no tickets available for Toledo today." He looked at me sheepishly, I smiled and offered my hand. As we shook hands, I told him, "enjoy Sevilla, and near the train station is a cafe that has the best frozen yogurt you'll ever eat."
I stood waiting my turn to buy tickets, as I looked over my shoulder to see where Caitlin was, I heard laughter. There she was sitting on the bench waiting on me, talking to a group of children. They were all siblings, an Israeli family. The boys were flirting with Cait, the girls were giggling as they watched their brothers make fools of themselves. Dad would come and check on them as he waited his turn to buy tickets. Another beautiful family, ready to befriend fellow travelers. It was finally my turn to buy tickets. I told the man, two one way tickets to Salamanca. Well, it seems we were in the wrong place. All trains heading south left from the Atocha station, but if you want to travel north, that required the Chamartin station. Who knew? Certainly not I! Not a problem though, buy a couple of tickets at the kiosk, and tracks 1, 2 & 6 would provide a train about every 10 minutes. The trip to Chamartin was quick and we soon had tickets to Salamanca. Caitlin wandered around the train station while I stood watch over our stuff.
As we were strolling along the platform looking for coche 2, we started a conversation with a couple speaking english, the queen's english. They were from Birmingham, England (a coincidence? I think not). She was a retired school teacher, he a retired product development coordinator. They were not only seated right behind us, they were headed to Salamanca for a two week spanish class. We chatted for quite some time, but eventually settled into our seats to watch the countryside whisk by. This was not an express train, we stopped probably 8-10 times on the trip north. Each of the towns or pueblos (small town) had it's own endearing quality and I found myself day dreaming about what it would be like living in one of these neat little towns. This was the first time I remember seeing a house. In Madrid all we saw were apartments, with the ground floors being shops, cafes, restaurants, banks (lots of banks!). Same in Seville. But small towns had houses, and some of them were really cool looking. One small town we passed had a wall around it, obviously it had been a city/state during the middle ages. The train was similar to others we had traveled on, clean and comfortable. There was the familiar monitor that displayed time, temp, the name of the next stop, and our speed (in kph). This train, although not a high speed, would still hit speeds of 150 kph (about 90 mph for the non metric) which for a train that made multiple stops wasn't too shabby. We started the count down, three stops to go, two, one...We were in Salamanca.
Our british traveling companions invited us to walk with them into town. It wasn't a long walk, and the steady conversation made the walk pleasant. Once we passed Paseo Canalejas, Peter and Barbara Jones bid us adieu and pointed us in the right direction. We walked a couple of blocks to Plaza Santa Eulalia were we found Hotel Condal. Hotel Condal is not a 4 star hotel, but our room had a bed and a bath and wi-fi (kinda). We made ourselves at home, then it was time to explore Salamanca. Caitlin has on her key ring a little tag that states, "boys are nice, but shoes are forever", so it was her great delight to discover a city in which every other shop was a shoe store (or so it seemed). We got hungry and found a very cool bar that had "tapas" galore. I love sardines, and my favorite was the fresh sardines with green olives. I even tried one that was a cow stomach stew, I liked it! The broth reminded me of pinto beans. It was the most reasonably priced meal of the whole trip, a measly 12 euro. It was getting cool, so we went in search for a coat for Cait. After a false start at one store, the "right" coat was found and the wrong one returned (style is such an individual thing!). Finally we strolled down to La Plaza Mayor, the center of the old section of Salamanca. The place was packed with spaniards doing their thing, eating a little, drinking a little and talking a lot. It was getting late (by our standard) so we returned to the room. I took off my shoes and relaxed on the bed, while Caitlin did the Facebook thing. I eventually started to doze, thinking about what an incredibly beautiful little city Salamanca is, and fantasizing about what it would be like living there. I was falling in love with Spain!?! But this was romantic, nothing could be more impractical or irrational. However when you're in that state, half way between sleep and consciousness, reality is way over rated. So I envisioned myself learning the language and customs, and becoming a part of it, and offered no apologies.
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