I walked 5.5 km across Burgos to the main train station, against the advice of my host.
The train left right on time, as they do here and at 11:56am I was Madrid bound.
Then the fun began.
I used most of my phone battery navigating to the station and then taking a Spanish lesson online. Allowing enough to walk from the train station in Toledo to my Airbnb there, I thought.
The train from Burgos arrives to Madrid-Chamartin station. The train from Madrid to Toledo leaves from Madrid-Atocha station. They are miles apart. Yesterday Google said it was a train ride between, but today I was only offered a 18 minute taxi ride, 44 minute bus ride (leaving from somewhere nearby-ish) or a 1 hour 10 minute walk. Crap!
I decided to get the Toledo train ticket at Chamartin to speed things up at the other end. Because the human being ticket agent was at the other end of a long queue, I opted to use the automatic ticket machine. Five minutes later I was getting the "remove card" message from that machine, but my credit card was jammed inside. Stress was mounting, so I did what all non-Spanish speaking tourists should do. .. I called the technical support number printed on the Renfe machine.
I know what you're thinking. But I'm an optimist and people like me will call the advanced language hotline because we honestly think that the tech support guy who answers the phone might just speak fluent English and be able to reach through the phone with a magic wrench to pry that credit card out. Not this time though. Instead he told me, in Español, to call back after 4 PM and someone will speak English to me. Useful. It was now 2:45 and the train to Toledo left at 3:30 PM... from across the other side of Madrid.
Do I leave the machine and go for help, understanding the risk that it could spit out the card while I'm gone (because it was already making regurgitation noises) or do I wait. ... indefinitely?!
At the 10 minute mark, with about 35 minutes to get to Atocha left, I abandoned my Renfe machine and ran to the information desk - where I joined the queue. The Spaniard in charge of my well-being was less than empathetic. "No English" he said. Then pointed to a different customer service desk and said "English there". Now 50 yards from the machine that ate my card, I had no view to it and worried somebody else would soon be in charge of my spending! Another queue, another 5 minutes. The older woman who received me was quick to point out that she also spoke no English and I should go to the information desk (from whence I'd come).
If there was ever a time when talking loudly with your hands and jumping around with a backpack on is appropriate, I'd like to believe this was it. "Big problem, credit card in Renfe machina" I said, almost in tears... and wishing I had the luxury of collapsing on the tile floor and crying!
The good news is she understood. The other good news (for me, but not the next customer) was that she had a solution to this on hand. We ran back to the machine, pushed aside the people trying to use it to buy a ticket and my old lady worked her magic. She shoved another plastic card into the slot and when she removed it, my card came flying out also!
Elated, I thanked her, then set about finding a solution to my next problem - how the heck do I get to Atocha?!
You guessed it. Two more queues and I found a guy who sold me an underground train ticket.
Ok, so this is wrong on so many levels, but I started feeling better only after meeting 3 Americans on my train to Atocha who had arrived 2 hours early for their Barcelona train, then missed it. They were at platform 10, Chamartin and the train to Barcelona left from Atocha, platform 10.
That bad kama is probably what caused my next issue, actually!
Too scared to use the Renfe machine to buy my ticket to Toledo (no, it never came out of the broken machine, so we're hoping I didn't pay for it!) I started asking where to buy one. Seriously, my Spanish is pretty abysmal but I'm sure this man told me "go left, go right, go outside and it's in the plantation". Hmmmm...
The plantation was in fact a tropical garden of sorts and it was kinda outside. Go figure. You guessed it, another queue and now 15 minutes til the train leaves.
The ticket agent sold me the ticket 7 minutes before the train left. They cut off sales at 5 minutes before, FYI. All I had to do was get to platform 15.
I could NOT make this stuff up. I ran back and forward in that station looking for platform 15. The only sign I found was platforms 1-12! Finally, because I only had 2 minutes and nothing to lose, I went through security (bag x-ray) under the sign for platform 1-12. Wouldn't you know it... They have platforms 13, 14 & 15 at the end of 12, but haven't seen the need for a sign yet!
I boarded my train one minute before it's on-time departure. It was moving before I'd found my seat or taken off my pack.
Ok... just one more slight issue for today, unless you count a temperature control problem in my part. (The only clean clothes I had to wear today, were long sleeved thermals and all that running with a pack on and stress was telling me I needed a shower, soon!)
Using the last of my phone battery, I tried look up the address of Cesár, who is my airbnb host. Turns out they renamed his street recently and Google let me down again with its "no results" response. That's 2x today Google! How am I going to survive, if I can't trust you?!
Alls well that ends well. Cesár answered my text for help, met me outside, let me shower, launder clothes and gave me a clean room with a comfortable bed from which I was able to recover from my stroke today. He is super sweet and the perfect personality to be hosting/putting up with ridiculous guests like me.
Toledo is already amazing and I've just scratched the surface. :)
The train left right on time, as they do here and at 11:56am I was Madrid bound.
Then the fun began.
I used most of my phone battery navigating to the station and then taking a Spanish lesson online. Allowing enough to walk from the train station in Toledo to my Airbnb there, I thought.
The train from Burgos arrives to Madrid-Chamartin station. The train from Madrid to Toledo leaves from Madrid-Atocha station. They are miles apart. Yesterday Google said it was a train ride between, but today I was only offered a 18 minute taxi ride, 44 minute bus ride (leaving from somewhere nearby-ish) or a 1 hour 10 minute walk. Crap!
I decided to get the Toledo train ticket at Chamartin to speed things up at the other end. Because the human being ticket agent was at the other end of a long queue, I opted to use the automatic ticket machine. Five minutes later I was getting the "remove card" message from that machine, but my credit card was jammed inside. Stress was mounting, so I did what all non-Spanish speaking tourists should do. .. I called the technical support number printed on the Renfe machine.
I know what you're thinking. But I'm an optimist and people like me will call the advanced language hotline because we honestly think that the tech support guy who answers the phone might just speak fluent English and be able to reach through the phone with a magic wrench to pry that credit card out. Not this time though. Instead he told me, in Español, to call back after 4 PM and someone will speak English to me. Useful. It was now 2:45 and the train to Toledo left at 3:30 PM... from across the other side of Madrid.
Do I leave the machine and go for help, understanding the risk that it could spit out the card while I'm gone (because it was already making regurgitation noises) or do I wait. ... indefinitely?!
At the 10 minute mark, with about 35 minutes to get to Atocha left, I abandoned my Renfe machine and ran to the information desk - where I joined the queue. The Spaniard in charge of my well-being was less than empathetic. "No English" he said. Then pointed to a different customer service desk and said "English there". Now 50 yards from the machine that ate my card, I had no view to it and worried somebody else would soon be in charge of my spending! Another queue, another 5 minutes. The older woman who received me was quick to point out that she also spoke no English and I should go to the information desk (from whence I'd come).
If there was ever a time when talking loudly with your hands and jumping around with a backpack on is appropriate, I'd like to believe this was it. "Big problem, credit card in Renfe machina" I said, almost in tears... and wishing I had the luxury of collapsing on the tile floor and crying!
The good news is she understood. The other good news (for me, but not the next customer) was that she had a solution to this on hand. We ran back to the machine, pushed aside the people trying to use it to buy a ticket and my old lady worked her magic. She shoved another plastic card into the slot and when she removed it, my card came flying out also!
Elated, I thanked her, then set about finding a solution to my next problem - how the heck do I get to Atocha?!
You guessed it. Two more queues and I found a guy who sold me an underground train ticket.
Ok, so this is wrong on so many levels, but I started feeling better only after meeting 3 Americans on my train to Atocha who had arrived 2 hours early for their Barcelona train, then missed it. They were at platform 10, Chamartin and the train to Barcelona left from Atocha, platform 10.
That bad kama is probably what caused my next issue, actually!
Too scared to use the Renfe machine to buy my ticket to Toledo (no, it never came out of the broken machine, so we're hoping I didn't pay for it!) I started asking where to buy one. Seriously, my Spanish is pretty abysmal but I'm sure this man told me "go left, go right, go outside and it's in the plantation". Hmmmm...
The plantation was in fact a tropical garden of sorts and it was kinda outside. Go figure. You guessed it, another queue and now 15 minutes til the train leaves.
The ticket agent sold me the ticket 7 minutes before the train left. They cut off sales at 5 minutes before, FYI. All I had to do was get to platform 15.
I could NOT make this stuff up. I ran back and forward in that station looking for platform 15. The only sign I found was platforms 1-12! Finally, because I only had 2 minutes and nothing to lose, I went through security (bag x-ray) under the sign for platform 1-12. Wouldn't you know it... They have platforms 13, 14 & 15 at the end of 12, but haven't seen the need for a sign yet!
I boarded my train one minute before it's on-time departure. It was moving before I'd found my seat or taken off my pack.
Ok... just one more slight issue for today, unless you count a temperature control problem in my part. (The only clean clothes I had to wear today, were long sleeved thermals and all that running with a pack on and stress was telling me I needed a shower, soon!)
Using the last of my phone battery, I tried look up the address of Cesár, who is my airbnb host. Turns out they renamed his street recently and Google let me down again with its "no results" response. That's 2x today Google! How am I going to survive, if I can't trust you?!
Alls well that ends well. Cesár answered my text for help, met me outside, let me shower, launder clothes and gave me a clean room with a comfortable bed from which I was able to recover from my stroke today. He is super sweet and the perfect personality to be hosting/putting up with ridiculous guests like me.
Toledo is already amazing and I've just scratched the surface. :)
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