We arrived at the bus stop about an hour and a half before the bus was supposed to leave, and waited. About 15 minutes before the bus was supposed to leave, we found out that the station our bus was heading to, called Valencia- San Juan, was actually in a city west of Madrid, when we wanted to go east to the coast. We are very fortunate that Vanessa was able to ask an old couple for help, and they helped set us straight. After this, we obviously did not board the bus, but found the help desk where Vanessa asked where we could buy a bus ticket, and the lady told her that we need to go about half the length of one of the metro lines to a stop that connected with the bus station for longer distance rides. So on the metro we went again, and finally got to the stop at about 11:15, and by 11:30, it was my turn to do some talking. I walked up to the ticket agent and asked for two tickets to Valencia in the best Spanish I could, and it wasn't pretty, but she understood me the first time, which is a blessing, because since we have been here, with the accent, I have hardly understood anything. A train was supposed to depart from Madrid at 12:00, and just when the agent was about to make the transaction, she checked again and told me that that train was full, and the next train to Valencia would be at 3:00. I bought 2 tickets for 3:00 from Madrid to Valencia.
We sat at the bus station from 11:45 to 2:45 and caught some Z's, read some books, and looked around. Finally, the bus left, with us on it. We were very lucky today, the ticket agent told me that we could take on 30 kilos per person, and I don't know about Vanessa, but I had about twice that amount. Luckily, packing those lower bus compartments looked a lot like choir tour; total chaos, and no one would have had any way of figuring out whose 30 kilo's belong to who, so we definitely slipped by there.
On the bus, it was some of the most beautiful countryside I had ever seen. I saw three types of crops growing on the way; sunflowers, grapes, and olives. The vineyards made me swear I was in a combination of Napa CA, and Palm Springs CA. If that doesn't make sense to you, imagine a beautiful vineyard out in the middle of the desert. It was beautiful, and weird at the same time. What really surprised me, though, was the olives. We have a relatively small -ish olive tree in our front yard, and that produces enough olives in one year for the entire neighborhood to have their fill and then some; I picked a huge bowl last year to cure, and that didn't even put a dent in the number on the tree. Here, there were rolling hills and fields full of huge olive trees in perfect rows- just like the vineyards. If one tree could feed our neighborhood, then they must have enough olives each year between Madrid and Valencia to feed all of Europe and most of Africa as well. By the way, if you are considering taking up a lost art for a hobby, try curing olives- I am sure my parents would be happy to fix you up with more than you'd ever want, because every one that goes with you, avoids its sometimes eternal nap on the sidewalk below.
There was a woman sitting on the train about two seats up from me who was trying to sleep. When we made a short stop to get gas and a restroom stop, she turned around, and I only got a quick glance at her, but I could have swore that it was Rachel Tohm. I literally thought for a brief second that Rachel was in Europe for some reason even though she should be at Walla Walla right now. It surprised me, and scared me as well. A little while later, I got a better look at her, and I realized that the hair and most of the face was identical, but this lady's eyes made her look too Avatar-ish to be Rachel.
We finally rolled into the bus station around 7:20, called the director at the school using a payphone, and had a seat. The director told us that it would be a half-hour or so. At 9:15 we decided to call him back because we were still sitting there. He told us that someone was already in Valencia, and they would be there in 10 minutes or less. Within 5 the boys director arrived in a sweet European Opel van that I had only seen in movies. Of course, the boys director had a huge accent, so understanding him was tough, but we eventually got through. We drove back to the college, and I met my roommate who's name is Erik from Seattle Washington. Erik attends La Sierra University, and I attend Walla Walla; we had plenty to talk about because I school in his home; he schools in mine. My room is fairly tiny, but so are all the other ones. What makes up for the tiny room is the balcony with a view of the hills behind the school, and a tiny bit of the city. I broke out a sweat for no reason whatsoever; it is just really hot here. Now, it is late. I need to shave, shower, and hit the sack.
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