Coimbra, Portugal
Music, World Cup game announcement, talent show, partiers...we had it all last night. And like Spain, the Portugese don't believe in sleeping at night. It's cool then, so PARTY! The music was great! So rhythmic and emotional, I found myself I initially grooving to it while it penetrated my sleeping brain. But this was the 2nd night of poor sleep so it didn't stay enjoyable for long.
But first I need to tell the story of getting here. Nothing is ever simple in the travels of trike touring and now with 2 trikes the adventures are magnified more than twofold. We cycled into Plasencia, Spain, a town I thought would have public transportation out to Portugal. Given the heat wave, April and I decided it might be cooler at the coast. Then, too, we'd have a slow leisurely trip down the coast to Lisbon with plenty of time to catch our June 30th flight to London.
So I go into the bus station to find out about a bus to Porto, Portugal. The guy doesn't speak English but writes on a piece of paper the names of 2 "somethings" about where I get the bus to Portugal. I sit down and figure out these are 2 towns south of us. They must be the connections. Ok, let's see what the train folks have to say. They say we have to go back to Madrid to get the train to Porto. Not doing that! But a train goes to Caceres, the first town on my list. Let's take the train to Caceres and there catch the bus to Porto. Sounds like a plan! They said the bus' bike section was full, but she'd ask the conductor when the train arrived if our bikes could go on. Yes! And off we go for an hour's ride to Caceres, Spain. Lucky us. The bus station is across the street. They tell us we have to go to Salamanca to get a bus to Porto. And stay over one night because the only bus leaves at midday. We have 2 bikes...special bikes. Fold them small. Ok. Out in the platform a guy comes by shaking his head. "Too big!!" he motions and says in Spanish. (I'm getting really good at reading body language:)). So we start to fold them. He motions that he'll have to look at the bus when it arrives. Turns out he's the next driver. He checks all the bus' bays but says nothing to us. Wait, I tell April. It's a game they all play. He hasn't said No, yet. After changing drivers and their briefcases he opens a rear bay and motions for us to load it up Yea! Luckily April has great spatial awareness and can see how best to get these buggers in this small space. On they go. Off we go.
What's that exit sign say I ask an hour later? Plasencia? That's the town we left a couple of hours ago! This bus is STOPPING in Plasencia on its way to Salamanca. We're right back to where we started. That effing bus ticket guy!!! He didn't know what he was talking about!! Arghhhh!!! The adventure continues because things are just seeming so challenging. So we'll go to Salamanca and figure it out from there. Maybe we can get the train from there to Porto. The train is definitely more fun than the bus and usually easier with the trikes.
We arrive in Salamanca to spend the night. April found us online a place to stay for 40 € right in the old section of town near the Plaza Mayor. That should be great if they can handle our trikes. We unload our pile of gear and trike pieces onto the platform and commence to reassemble to the stares if onlookers and clicking of cameras. We make quite a spectacle and it can be abut disconcerting in a crowd like that. Poor April's literally on the pavement screwing things back together. She's figured her trike out pretty quickly! Looks like we got it all! Let's get out of here. Using Google Maps on my phone, I figure out where to go, and we're off. One way streets! Yikes. Sidewalks it will have to be.
We get down to the plaza and it's "hoppening"! People everywhere. Hundreds of cafe tables and wide screen TVs. What's going on? We find our hotel and the first thing I notice is the steps up to a 2nd floor reception. I don't think this is going to work:(. But don't give up yet. I go up and ask about our bikes. Yes, we have a place: up those stairs I came up, down the narrow main hallway and out onto a rooftop. It will work, I exclaim!...not knowing if we can get them up those stairs or not! We can! We do! The lady receptionist is ever so helpful carry bags after bags of our gear up. Such kindness!
"Where's your blue sack?" Says April as we stuff our multitude of bags into this tiny room. Shit! I set it down to empty the bus and it got separated from all the rest. It's just got food scraps and odd junk in it. They never pick up litter here til morning, it's probably let still there. So I hustle on foot back. Nope not by the post where I set it. Not in the trash cans. Maybe Lost and Found. But who to ask? And how? Information is closed. There's a guy at a window. Use Google Translate. He's trying to call someone. Motions to wait 5 minutes. I pace. Go back down to the bus platform. A couple that work at a restaurant on the platform recognize me from the bike fiasco. I explain. He takes me over to a building and ask a guy who does maintenance there. Nada. Didn't see it. The couple says there was nothing left behind. Oh well. I tried. I hope whoever lifted it can use the coffee mug, knife, spork, folding bowl, visor, Boy Toy (for peeing by the side of the road), and bandannas it contained. Maybe someone in dire straits is benefitting. Nothing irreplaceable. Detachment from possessions is what this journey is about. And adjusting to whatever comes my way.
(This blog post is turning into a novel all on its own...and the story's not over:))
The hubbub in the Plaza Mayor is a festival AND opening World Cup. Game. Wild place to be!
The next day we head to the train station in the morning to figure out what our options are. 1 am??? The only train? Ok. We'll go by bus. We pack up and head to the bus staton. Full? Really? It's Friday. Busy time for busses. Guess it will have to be the 1 am train. And let's only go to Coimbra. Heard it was a cute city. We wheeled our loaded bikes into the train station to buy our tickets so they could see them. Don't think they can go, says the ticket man. Then he does his research. Only way is if we buy sleeper car tickets with births. They go in the compartment. Really? How much? 105 € each. Oh my!! The bus is half that. But this is Friday and if we wait for a Monday bus we'll have spent that staying here. Ok. And then the bikes can go.
Running errands, sitting around, replacing lost criticals from blue pack, eating, drinking...that's how we spent the next 12 hours. We're on the platform awaiting the train with our bikes still loaded because until we know what car to get on it's easier to move the stiff on the bikes. A man comes by. Not going to fit, he says. We motion that they fold. He shakes his head. But they saw the bikes and sold us the tickets. Not my problem, he motions. He leaves. We wait. Not giving up yet. We talk to some other officials, station guards probably. Guy comes back. Looks like he's the conductor. Still no. We tear the bikes apart and fold them. He's unsure. The train arrives. We don't know where to go. Of course. 4 cars down. We grab stuff and run. More stuff. Now wheel our folded bikes. He shows us compartment. No way! We hardly fit. April persists. Tried her trike. Nope. Quick release front wheels. They help her take them off. Hers will fit now. No, I say, mine don't gone off. Big mistake not having that option. Please! begs April. Find a place for her bike. He goes looking and finds a hallway in an engine car. I get it in. We're not responsible, he says. Meanwhile April with help has put her trike and all it's pieces and all our gear into this tiny 2 bunk sleeper car! Our home for the night! And once again....
WE'RE OFF!!!!!!!
Livin' the life,
BagLady
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