Another Day in Seville

If only I had known what the day was going to be like when I woke up, I might just have rolled over and gone back to sleep. The day started (far too) early especially after a night sampling Seville 's nightlife whilst mistaking a gay club for a Flamenco club, easy mistake to make really. We weren't aware the club in question was for gays until a slightly older Spanish lady propositioned my fellow (female) traveller, this Senorita was old enough to be her grandmother! Nice. So in the hostel as we clamoured to get our things (how did my flip flop end up in the bath) and nursed our sore heads (how many vodka and cokes did we have?) the prospect of a nice day relaxing in the blazing sun of Seville was just what I needed. With the obligatory stops at an internet café and a nice restaurant for some tapas and much needed refreshments. All I wanted was a big bottle of water and a nice patch of grass (not exactly easy to find in Spain )

After checking out from the hostel (late as usual) we strolled down to the river to soak up our last rays of sun before returning to the miserable weather of good old Great Britain. Plenty of time to get the train from Seville to Malaga for my flight home, there were six trains going that day, no need to book really? So as I said my emotional goodbyes to my friends and fellow travelling companions (well it would be over two weeks until we saw each other again when university started) I was sad to be leaving the relaxed lifestyle of travelling. Something I could definitely get used to, better than writing a 3000 word essay any day. Not exactly relishing my three and a half hours no frills flight back home to Belfast either- boredom!

The good thing about Seville is the taxi on every corner, so after walking barely five minutes I spotted one and jumped in. The conversation on the way to the train station wasn't exactly flowing, after exhausting the topics of the weather and my flight home we stopped there. My Spanish wasn't really up to a discussion on global warming or the pros and cons of private education, a few words on the Beckhams I could just about manage.

Arriving at the train station I headed straight to the ticket office, knowing how long it can take to get tickets after running round Gare du Nord in the hope of actually getting a ticket for Geneva . I arrived at the ticket desk and was confronted with the words

" No more room on the train to Malaga "

I couldn't take it in; I just stared at the lady and hoped she was joking

" But.but if I don't get this train I'll miss my flight."

I spluttered this to the women but she wasn't looking very sympathetic.

" Is there nothing you can do "?

This was greeted by a shrug

"Please, I really need to get this train"

Another shrug and

"Next Please"

So there I was, no train to get to Malaga , hardly any money, nowhere to stay for the night, not even sure when the next flight to Belfast was and even then, think of the cost. Time was running out, I thought about a bus but I had no idea if there were any direct buses running to Malaga and if they would even get me there on time. In my reliance on the trains I hadn't left myself a lot of time. The chase was on. I rushed outside and got into a taxi

"Bus station" I shouted

"Which One?"

"Oh God, I don't know, I need to get to Malaga , Help!"

Thinking I was about to have a nervous breakdown, the driver sped off to the station by the river. I rushed inside and gabbled quite incoherently that I needed to get to Malaga now. The slightly surprised lady behind the desk directed me to the other bus station, just my luck I thought, wrong bus station. The kind taxi driver had been waiting for me outside and drove me to the other station. Running inside I found the Malaga ticket office, silently praying that there would be a direct bus and soon.

"When's the next bus to Malaga ?"

"Half an hour"

"How long does it take?"

"Two hours"

"Yesssssssssss!"

I would have kissed him had it not been for the window separating us (lucky escape). As I bought chocolate and water (necessary supplies for a long bus journey) I sighed with relief at my good luck and my incredibly bad planning and organisation. Arriving at the airport two and a half hours later I chided myself on my near escape. Never again, from now on I will always be organised and have a back up plan. Roll on next summer!

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