Heading South

22 Jan Comares

That last evening in Madrid I thought I’d go to Retiro Park and walk around – was feeling too lazy to go all the way to the Palacio Real and appreciate more artwork. Can’t absorb any more. Also, I started my period in Toledo, so that long bus ride and easy meander through Illescas was my way of not stopping but not forcing. Also why I didn’t go find Olga at the Ayuntamiento.

When I got back to the hostel I went up to the room for a while so the guy behind the desk wouldn’t bust me getting my big pack out of the locker in the common room. He’s the one who told me I could not leave my stuff there overnight…when I did sneak down to get it he was chatting with the cleaning staff. It's seriously funny to be sneaking around like a kid, but there was no way I was taking 35 extra pounds of baggage for one night. Up in the room there was an English woman who was going to a place called VaughnTown in Spain to teach English for a week as a volunteer. Sounds interesting…she also told me that the Prado is free from 6-8pm. Good to know for next time. I could drop in there every time I pass through Madrid. I also met Ximena, from Argentina, in the room – we ended up talking for over two hours, by which time I had to run out and find a locutorio to call Naman. Took me a bit of wandering the neighborhood to find it, but eventually I did…his Mom and his older brother were visiting him, so we talked briefly. After the phone call I was unsettled and a little wired, so I looked for a quiet place to have a glass of wine to make me at least a little bit sleepy. Found a sweet little bar/restaurant and chatted with the bartender about his travels in America, my travels in Spain…truly I love Spain – people here are as friendly as old Austin, even in the middle of Madrid. I haven’t gone into a single place where I haven’t been treated like gold. The wine was delicious, too. Fell asleep easily as soon as I got in bed.

Next morning I was flossing and when I glanced over at the other person in the bathroom it was Natasha from Toledo!  I didn’t eat breakfast with them, as they were chatting with the Chinese artist from my room, but we sat at adjacent tables and it was a lovely breakfast – I sat with Ximena, and we ate our bread and later got some hot water for my thermos (Natasha, Elsa, Ximena and I all had thermoses to keep a cup of tea with us at all times). 

Traveling you meet people at such interesting points in their lives. It's like the lounge of a therapist's office, but you take it with you everywhere. Ximena lives in Buenos Aires and had, from what she said, lost hope that she'd be able to buy a house on her own so she took her savings and decided to invest in herself (her words) and go traveling. She's starting her last year of an engineering degree in March. Just ballsy - loved her! Natasha and Elsa (never did learn their Chinese names) are 20 and 21, studying in Sweden to be English teachers in China. They were traveling hell bent for leather - trying to soak up every last thing they could - traveling on every long weekend all around Europe like the world was going to end. Of course once they start working it likely will, at least for traveling.

It’s amazing how fast you can feel at home somewhere if there are good people to talk to. Leaving that hostel was almost sad.

Getting to Atocha Station was alright – my bags were incredibly heavy, but there was room for me to pass everywhere I went, so I was thankful for that. At Atocha I took a couple of pictures of the turtles in the tropical garden pond, and then made to go through the security checkpoint. But when they asked me for some proof of a ticket I realized I had to go find a place to retrieve it – downstairs at the ticket kiosks I could print it by using the card I bought the ticket with – it printed right out, and I was an hour early for the train, goddammit. Better early than late, with 50 lbs of baggage to carry, and the AVE waiting room was almost empty so I could spread out and relax. Once you’re past security there, it’s like being at an airport gate – only passengers, so you don’t feel like you’re in the middle of an enormous train station at all. There was a ton of room on the train, too. I had a great window seat and the train was so comfy I got sleepy right away. Stayed awake for most of the trip, but did nod off toward the end. There was a woman across from me one row back with a cat in a carrier, and the cat was nervous, so the lady was talking to it and petting it very gently during the trip. At one point it jumped out of the carrier and was running around underneath the seats – it was pretty funny watching people’s reactions, because I think I may have been the only one to realize there was a cat on board. The owner did catch the cat, and it stayed quietly in the carrier after that.  I loved having the cat on board, with such a sweet person – it made the trip a little different. Homey.

When I got to Malaga I had completely forgotten where to meet John, and of course there was no weefee in the station.  So I sort of slunk, underneath the weight of my bags, back and forth between the main entrance to the station and the ticket office. He got there 10 minutes after I did, when all the other passengers had gone, so it was easy as pie for him to see me. We went to the Carrefour (huge supermarket), which was nutty - after all the traveling and jet lag of the past days. I was supposed to organize myself and stock up, but was rather randomly buying whatever I came across, instead. It worked out okay. When we were getting carts to go in we didn’t have enough coins but John said to try a quarter and presto! When we were returning them I passed mine on to a guy who got genuinely excited that he was going to get a quarter back after shopping. Sincerely love to see grown people get excited about a little detail.

The ride out of Malaga was surprising – we drove along the promenade for a while, then the outskirts of town were very brief, and all of a sudden we were out in the country, driving up and up and up, through arid, pretty, mountainous terrain. The almond trees were just starting to blossom and it was a sparklingly pretty blue sky day. As we drove, John filled me in on all sorts of details about the area, all much too quickly, but I was trying to retain some of it. He’s wonderfully helpful and kind.

We could see the village and the houses (El Llano de la Luz and Las Almendras) from quite a ways away, as we wove our way up through the mountains. When we arrived, John let us into the house, showed me around (it was dusty, as I’d been warned by Jacqueline) – the houses are both made of stone, like everything up in this area, and painted (whitewashed?) white, with tile roofs. They each have 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a large living room/common space. Jacqueline’s was built 7 or 8 years ago, and Richard’s was just finished in May. Fortunately for me, the houses come with John and his gf Polly, who is a travel writer. She is next door a lot of the time working on stuff online, and John stops by or meets her there sometimes. They’re very sweet and friendly, especially considering they get visitors like me pretty frequently. People who come out here, as far as I hear, are all interesting. I like the house I’m in – it has two terraces, one of which is outside my bedroom. The view is nothing short of incredible – the mountains aren’t massive, but they are covered in soft green grass, almond trees, lavender, and orange trees. The mountainsides create lots of intersecting angles, so each time the sun shifts just a little bit the light changes the landscape looks totally fresh. It took me a few days for my eyes to get used to looking into the mountains but little by little I can pick out new details every day. It is wonderful how adaptable we are – every day I ‘land’ a little more, and see, hear, and perceive more of what is going on in the ‘neighborhood’. Even walking here is different – people here don’t move quickly, and I have had to slow down my walk.

That was Saturday, Jan 15, and the next day was the Fiesta de San Hilario in Comares. The first celebration of the season – serious luck! I walked up to the village – there was quite a bit of traffic going up for the festival, but I didn’t dare take the goat track before I had a better feel for the direction I needed to go. When you're traveling alone you make up all sorts of headlines as you're weighing options that could possibly end in embarassment. Like "Stupidest Yank EVER Dies of Exposure After Wandering Off Alone Into Unknown Mountain Area."

There were a ton of people up there – I got there after the mass, just as they were carrying San Hilario down to the main plaza. Got some pictures of the procession – all the families were out, walking in big groups. There were a few single people, like me – a couple of photographers and a woman who looked English was on the outer edge like me. I get claustrophobic in big crowds (there were around 1,500 people there) so I walked around the village and tried to locate the supermarket. No luck, even though I followed the signs, but I did find the old castle and the cemetery. The castle is just as I’d pictured it – small, very, very old and weathered – mostly the ramparts are what are still intact (or rebuilt). I don’t think it was ever very big. The cemetery is Spanish style, of course, so it’s more like a mausoleum – also took some pictures up there. The view is breathtaking.

I rested for a while in the cemetery, at the back, where they finish their funerals and you can look over the edge of the retaining wall and see the remains of funeral processions – old candles, wreaths, ribbon, etc. It shocked me to see they would litter like that in such a small village, where litter is really obvious. Oh dear.