Day 32: Sintra & Cobo de Roca

  Our railroad pass ran out last night, so we are on our own for transportation the rest of the trip. That was a little scary. We were so used to just waving the pass on most trains and being home free. Now we had to figure out how to pay our way for each ride.

  We had decided to visit Sintra today. When reading about what to do in Portugal two main things seemed to come up--go to Lisbon and go to Sintra. So we did Lisbon yesterday--today was Sintra. Sintra is interesting as it houses several major structures, the most interesting to me being a Moorish castle that dates back to the 8th century and Pena Palace, the summer palace of the ruling family of Portugal in the 18th century. Pena Palace is sometimes compared to Neuschwanstein of King Ludwig, but although I thought t was pretty awesome, I didn’t feel the two compared at all.

  Anyway, before we left a decision had to be made. We could take the easy route. Catch a train to Estoril, the next town from us. The bus to Sintra leaves right from the train station making it a very easy to piece together trip. The bus goes straight to Sintra.

  OR….we could do it the hard way. Take the train to Cascais, two towns from us. There we would have to find the bus station which is located under the mall. Which meant more work for us. But here’s the thing--the bus from Cascais makes an extra stop! At Cabo de Roca which is the westernmost extent of continental Europe and the place where people thought the world ended back in the time of Columbus. It is described as a place with high, rugged cliffs and wild rocks with crashing waves. JUST EXACTLY MY FAVORITE KIND OF SCENERY. So we had to decide--the easy trip or the harder to figure out one that included that tantalizing stop at Cabo de Roca. Ken left it up to me but he said he knew right from the start which I would pick. It wasn’t as easy a choice as I think he thought it would be. My foot is hurting really, really badly now and walking is getting harder and harder. And the fact that we would have to find the bus station would mean more walking. But I just had to see those cliffs and wild waves. So as Ken knew I would, I chose the harder way.

  Actually that part worked out pretty well, We found the bus station right away (after another success story in figuring out how to pay for our train tickets--that went well too!).

  We determined that we would need to take Bus 403 (which will always be a famous number to us now). It arrived, and we (along with half the rest of the world) clambered aboard. And off we went. Up twisting roads, hair pin curves. Eventually we arrived at Cabo de Roca and there, once again, I fell in love. What wild majestic scenery. What beauty. Words simply cannot describe.

  Here I got in a little bit of trouble with Ken. Most of the crowd turned left to the major marker which determines the westernmost boundary. But not I. There was a fence along the cliffs to keep us all from falling over to the jagged rocks and crashing waves below. But there was one area where the fence had clearly been climbed under many times with a very well traveled path along the cliffs on the other side of it. I immediately climbed under and started up the path. I assumed Ken would do the same, but after a bit I looked back and realized that of the 150 so people who were in the area (a number of tour buses had come in too), I was the only one going that way.

  To me, that was a plus. I was alone with my ocean and my cliffs and my crashing waves. the scenery I love most in the world. I didn’t have to share with with dozens of other screeching, pushing, tourists all taking selfies. I was HAPPY!  I wandered along my trail and I saw beauty beyond description---none of which the others ever saw. I was in no danger for one second. The path was well marked.

  But when I finally turned around and got back I found a somewhat grumpy husband. It seems that he thought I was a fool to take what he called a “risk”. He reminded me that I’ve just come off a broken ankle and am suffering with some ailment in the other foot that is causing me considerable pain in walking. “What if you had slipped off that cliff with your bad ankle giving way or something?” he said with some annoyance. I tried to tell him that I had been fine every second but he was still unhappy with me.

  Truth is--I’m sorry he was unhappy, but I would do it all over again. It was one of the happiest moments of my entire trip!

  We wandered around some more looking at the gorgeous scenery, had a bite to eat, and then caught the bus to Sintra.

   Here we initially had a bit of a bad time. We got off the bus before we should have for Pena Palace. It took us a while to figure that part out. THen we got back on the next bus and managed to get off at the right stop. We only wanted to look at the grounds so didn’t think we had to buy a ticket. Wrong! We went through the gate and a man immediately started screaming. We heard him but didn’t think it could be for us so we kept walking. His screaming got louder and louder and we heard footsteps behind us. We turned around in surprise to see scores of people looking at us and a very red-faced, angry man running to catch up with us. Seems we needed a ticket. Just to look at the grounds.

  It was hot and Ken was tired of the whole thing anyway. He knew nothing of Sintra--I had been the one to read up on it--he was just going because I said we should. So I told him to find a cool spot and I would stand in line to get the tickets. Which I did. In the blazing sun. For over 30 minutes. Finally I got them and we were good to go. Rick Steves had said it is quite a heavy climb from the ticket booth to the palace, but it isn’t necessary to do it. He said for 2 euros, there is a small bus that will take you up. We found the small bus right away and got in line for it. There was a sign that said it is 3 euros (guess inflation has hit here too). We fished out 6 euros for the two of us and made it to the front of the line.

  Here we ran into more trouble. Seems you are supposed to buy a ticket! You can’t just hand euros to the driver. Ken tried and tried to talk the guy into taking our cash, but he just wouldn’t do it. He said we had to go back, get in line at the ticket counter and get tickets for the bus.

  Well, as I said,, I had just spent 30 hot minutes in that line and I was NOT going to do it again. In a cold fury I said to Ken--quite loud enough for the driver to hear--”forget it, we’ll walk!” “OK” said Ken who has been a real trooper about walking. He rarely seems to wear out. I’ve done extremely well for me too--but the foot is becoming a real problem for me. Even as I made my comment, I knew I was going to be sorry almost certainly, but pride forced me to do it!

  We climbed and climbed. It was so hot! It was definitely not as bad as Mary’s Bridge and not even as bad as Corniglia, but it was a real climb. But we made it!

  The palace is impressive, but really you can’t get very good pictures of it from the top. It is simply too huge to capture on film at that close distance. You need to be far away. We did the best we could, but it really was a bit disappointing after that climb.

  However, the walk down was fabulous. It was shady and there was a cool breeze. We actually enjoyed it--a lot! And something sort of miraculous happened that would never have happened if we took the bus.

   When we got off at the first stop mistaking it for the Pena Palace stop we were actually at the Moorish Castle stop. But we didn’t realize that until we were back on the bus and it was too late at that point to climb to the Castle. I was disappointed. Ken, at that point, didn’t care as he didn’t know anything about the Moorish Castle anyway.

  But walking down from Pena, Ken happened to look at a break in the woods and there--in absolute glory, was the Moorish Castle. Better than we could EVER have seen it close up. It was on a mountain opposite where we were and it was just grand. Both Ken and I stood in amazement looking at it. No one on the bus could have seen that. You had to walk it to get that view. And suddenly that hard climb seemed worth it to me.

  We made it back down, caught the bus again that does the loop around the castle and palace and headed back to the town of Sintra to catch Bus 403 back to Cascais. Oh boy! Did we ever have an experience here.

   Those of you who have been following this blog will remember my story of Bus 2 to and from Venice and how we were packed in like sardines.

   Forget that. That was an EASY trip compared to what was in store for us. It seems that half the world wanted to return to Cascais on that very bus. When we got on, it was already standing room only. I wanted to wait for the next bus (even if it WOULD be an hour), but Ken thought it would be as bad. So we handed the driver our ticket and looked for something to hang on to. We thought he was packed as tight as possible even then but he took on about 10 more people before he pulled out.

  I have never been so crammed in my life. I was literally body to body in all directions. I couldn’t breathe. It was so hot I thought I might pass out.

  At least in Venice it was only a 20 minute or so ride. This went on for at least 45 minutes. And it wasn’t a straight shot like Venice. It was hairpin curves where we were thrown side to side, backwards and forwards. I thought I might get sick--not motion sickness, but just from the heat and the feeling that I couldn’t breathe. And he kept stopping and taking on more! There were literally 3 people standing in the landing by the door. If anyone wanted to get off (which was rare) a bunch of people had to get off to let them through and then get back on. It was hell!

  I kept thinking about Cabo de Roca. There were sure to be dozens of people there wanting to get on too and I knew he would take them if it meant death to us all. I felt I could not bear it much longer.

  We finally pulled into Cabo and I waited for a dozen more people to try to get on that bus--which I felt would be simply impossible.. Because it was nearly 6 p.m. I was pretty sure no one would be getting off--it seemed to late to get off and view the scenery and still get wait for the next bus an hour later to get back to Cascais. But to my (and everyone else on the bus’s) relief and bunch of people got off! And Ken and I were able to scramble and get two real seats before the new crowd tried to get on. It was heaven! We could breathe. We could even feel the air-conditioning! Ken told me later if more people had crowded on that bus as Cabo without anyone getting off, he would have pulled me off and we would have sat there until midnight if necessary waiting for a bus without crowds. He said he couldn’t have taken it any longer either.

   Anyway, we got back to Cascais, got a meal and came home. It felt good to be back in our lovely condo although we really had seen some beautiful sights this day.

End of Day 32

CABO DE ROCA

The lighthouse at Cabo

The marker that marks the "end of the earth"

Some of the beautiful scenery

More scenery

One of the photos I got that no one else did because of my "foolhardy" (according to my husband) climbing under the fence and taking an off the beaten path walk

The fence

Sintra and Pena Palace

This palace is (like the Sagrada Familia) way too large to capture a real photo unless you are quite a long ways away from it. I hope these photos will give you an idea of how interesting and quirky it is though. It really is quite beautful.

These are actual redwood trees that were a gift from the United States. They don't thrive as they do in California though as the climate is not perfect here as it is in California.

MOORISH CASTLE

 This is the fantastic view that Ken and I were able to photograph only because we actually did the arduous climb up to the Pena Palace. This is not viewable to those who take the bus.

Not a good photo,  but we shot this from the town of Sintra when we got back down there. It was getting dusk then so the photo isn't good, but it gives you an idea of the size of this thing!

Day 31: Lisbon

  Our rail pass was still good for one more day and we tried to decide which would be the most cost effective way to use it. We decided to go to Lisbon thinking the cost for going there would be more on the train than going the other direction to Estoril to catch the bus to Sintra the other big “destination” we had planned for Portugal.

  We didn’t get a really early start, so arrived in Lisbon around noon, We had half learned the Metro the day before when we had had to use it to get to Cais Sodre train station so we were able without much trouble to get to the main square where the HOHO busses were. Right away things went awry. There was a crowd trying to get on, and the hawkers were sort of lackadaisical about selling--guess they were hot too.  We stopped one sweaty, red-faced girl and asked if she was selling tickets. She seemed unsure of what she was doing and asked us to wait. A few minutes later a black girl came along and we asked her. She was delightful and said of course she would help us and asked if we could just “go into the shadow” first--clearly she was as hot as we were and wanted some shade. She said they did four tours--what did we want. We finally decided on two--the small bus (they have to run a small bus because the old part of the city has such narrow streets) to Old City and a regular bus to Belem. While she was selling us the tickets, the first girl came over and there erupted a major argument all in Portuguese of which we understood nary a word. It was clear that Girl 1 was very  unhappy. Finally she went away our our girl said, “She’s upset because she says I stole you from her.” Well we liked our girl much better and assured her there had been no stealing. She told us the small bus was ready to go, Belem would be a while. So off we went to Small Bus. I was really looking forward to this. Thought it would be fun to tour the city in a small bus--more intimate and I figured it had to be great if the streets were that narrow. Let’s just say it was a total dud. The bus was almost full and Ken and I couldn’t even sit together. Then when we finally got going, the narration button wouldn’t work on my speaker and all I could get was Spanish. It was a total bore. We just wound our way through the city without a clue what we were seeing. I caught a quick glimpse of St George’s Castle but it was only a very quick look. Otherwise I saw nothing of the famed sights that were listed.

  We got off that one figuring we’d take it later and try to find one where the narration worked .We saw another bus about ready to take off and ran to catch it.. It, too, was completely full. However the driver said, “Just get on. There are many stops with many people getting on and off. You will find a seat.” We showed him our tickets, he nodded unenthusiastically,and we got on board. It was only a while later that I realized we had mistakenly got on the Oriente Tour--the absolutely most boring of all. We had NOT paid for this tour and he should not have allowed us on, but he clearly didn’t care, At least the narration worked here with a man with a Spanish accent doing his very best to try to make the boring things we were seeing seem exciting. And another good thing--the stops were well marked out. In Rome you didn’t even know what stop number you were out. Barcelona had been great too--every stop clearly marked with numbers. That is so helpful. But I did get a bit of a chuckle at the narration. The guy would say dramatically--”Stop Number 7! Our next stop will be Stop Number 8!” Guess he figured us English speakers aren’t great at counting.

  Anyway we finished that very, very boring tour. We managed to find the Belem bus and got on and found decent seats. But shortly into it, Ken had had enough. He cannot hear the narration enough to understand it so all he gets to do is sit on the bus and watch the city go by without really knowing what he is seeing. I know that is deadly boring. It had happened to me with the first small bus. So he just said he was getting off.

  I was ticked to be honest. We were finally on the right bus and I really wanted to go to Belem and see the famed Belem Tower, etc. But Ken was tired of the bus and he was hungry. He just wanted to walk around the city some.

  To be quite frank at this point I really was not impressed with Lisbon. I had wanted to be. Portugal and Lisbon have long been on my “I want to go there” list and I had wrapped up our trip in Portugal expecting that I would love the place. But I really wasn’t liking it at all at this point. That was to change.

  We wandered dispiritedly for a bit looking for a place we could both agree on to eat at. Ken found one he really liked. I was grumpy and ornery and not in the mood to agree to anything he wanted to do (yes, I’m not always the sweetheart you all think I am). I was mad because he had pulled me off the bus to Belem and dagnabit, I wanted to GO to Belem!

  Eventually, as always, our better natures took over and we did a bit of kissy-poo and things were OK. I agreed to eat at Ken’s place. Oh, how I was to be rewarded!

  It was in a pedestrian street where no cars were allowed. Outdoor cafes filled the middle of the street with stores on either side. We sat under one of the awnings at our chosen cafe and ordered. Ken LOVED his meal. I got the only vegetarian option, a sandwich. It sounded better than it tasted but it was OK. But it came with a huge platter of french fries which were as good as anything McDonalds has ever put out. AND they had ketchup (I got charged for it at one place and they only allowed a tiny packet), This place gave me several packets and those fries were good! Better was to come.

  Not long after we started eating we saw a bunch of men arrive. They were all nicely dressed--most in dress slacks, dress shirts and ties (some with suspenders). They were all carrying brass instruments. There were three trombones, trumpets, horns, and a host of other instruments. There was also a drummer. I saw the waiter from our restaurant come out with huge mugs of beer and a couple Cokes. And then these guys (14 or 15 of them--I never got a true count) started playing. They were just magnificent. Totally professional level. Soon the street was crowded in both directions and anyone trying to get through was having a heck of a time. People were going wild, clapping and cheering. And there we were with a front row seat.

  We never figured out just what the deal was. Ken thinks (and I think he might be right) that these guys just play for the joy of it. It was Sunday afternoon, and they probably have regular jobs somewhere, but they must have some kind of deal with this particular restaurant. The waiter made sure that they had all the beer and Coke they wanted. I never saw a “hat” in front of them and I didn’t see people leaving money, so I think they weren’t the regular street-type musicians. They were just playing for fun. Oh how good they were! I will never, never forget that experience.

  Things continued to look up. Ken made me leave the cafe as he said we had used the table far longer than was fair. So we got up and left. We could hear the guys playing far, far down the street.

  We wandered along the harbor a bit looking at the various crafts that vendors had on display. It was time to catch our bus again, but I could tell that Ken was really not wanting to do that.

  Along the way we had seen something interesting. There were these little jitneys like motorized rickshaws. They had two seats in the back and a driver in the front. You could hire the driver to take you around the city. We both thought it looked like fun. We asked each other how much we thought it would cost. Ken thought one price--I thought another much higher. We decided to ask. It turned out that I was pretty much right on the money for the cost, but we were both really wanting to do this--so we did!

  Oh, it was wonderful. We actually got to SEE the city. Our driver was able to get us right up to the sites--something the HOHO bus couldn’t do. We had a full hour of seeing Lisbon at its most beautiful with a driver who knew it well and could tell us about what we were seeing. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences of our entire trip. And worth every single penny!

  Our guy was a great guide and we found out he had four kids--three boys and a girl. we liked him tremendously--he was even able to find me a water closet when nature asserted her ugly head again.

  He told us that in order to qualify for the job you have to be able to speak fairly good English, some Italian, German and French. He said the French are the worst. They refuse to speak any language but their own. They may understand English very well, but they make the driver talk to them in nothing but French.

  What had started out to be a not so great day totally turned around. We loved Lisbon. It is just plain gorgeous if you see it the way it should be seen. What a great city!

  We came home to our beautiful condo and just sat and thought what a wonderful day we had had and thanked God for His great blessings on our trip.

End of Day 31

  

Isn't Lisbon gorgeous??

Street musicians--these guys drew a big crowd

A monument in the beautiful square by the ocean--don't ask me who the guy is--can't remember

Another view of the beautiful monument

The absolutely amazing brass group that played at our outside cafe

Famed Trolley 28

Overlooking the city

Can't remember who this saint was but I liked the stature a lot--so did the pigeons

Another overlook

Our motorized rickshaw driver with his machine

This bridge which looks almost exactly like the Golden Gate Bridge was designed by the same people who designed the Golden Gate

  

Famous St. Jorge's Castle

Day 30: Arrival in Portugal

  We got off the sleeper train and headed into the terminal. We had pretty clear directions from Orlando, our next landlord, on how to get to his place. We had to catch the metro to Cais Sodre train station and then catch a train to Sao Pedro where his condo was. Then he had drawn a nice map on how to get from the station to the condo.

  All this would have been great had we come in when there were real live agents to ask question of. But it was early morning Saturday and no one was around, Again it was a case of Mr. Frick and Mrs. Frack trying to figure out the metro--even FIND the metro--figure out the tickets--did our pass cover everything. etc.. ect. Eventually with plenty of help from the natives again, we arrived in Sao Pedro. Two things I can tell you: Everything is easier in the daylight (I think our very worst experiences have been when we came in in the dead of night) and everything is easy after you’ve figured it out the first time. But the first time can be a bear!

  As I said, we got to Sao Pedro and started looking at the map. I had told Ken that Orlando’s condo looked right out at the ocean, so understandably he assumed that meant we should exit the station oceanside.  Wrong. We went through the now-familiar but never appreciated routine of dragging suitcases through city streets in the blazing sun. At first we didn’t ask for help because we had the map. But finally we conceded and started asking for help. As usual people were wonderful. “No,” they said, “you are on wrong side of tracks. Must get to other side.” That didn’t make sense to Ken who was absolutely sure he HAD to be on the right side in order for the condo to have an ocean view. After some rather heated words of disagreement, (I thinking we should listen to natives--HE thinking we should use common sense about direction of ocean) we headed off again. We had been told by one rather savvy appearing woman that the condos were to the left and there were many of them. “They are yellow and white and very smart looking,” she said. We found some very nice appearing yellow and white condo buildings and I saw one of the women who had originally tried to help us in front of them. She had been walking her dog and had come this far. Looking across the tracks she saw us still searching and she frantically waved at the yellow and white condos saying “this is it!”

   Ken still was unconvinced, I was totally convinced. He bet me $100 I was wrong. He even shook on it. But he did grudgingly walk back to the station cross over to the other side and walk down to the condos. But here it began to appear he was right. We could find no address at ALL that was the same as Orlando had given us. Finally in despair I called Orlando. I hated to do it as his directions had been so concise and I was afraid we were the only people in Christendom who hadn’t been able to figure them out.

   “We’re hopelessly lost,” I said to him, I heard him laughing. “Are you wearing black and white?” he asked me. “Because if you are, I am looking at you right now. Look up.” We looked up at a balcony above us and there waved a very attractive 40ish man without a shirt on (not that I noticed). He waved us in the direction we should enter and a few minutes later met us at the gate.

  Shortly after that two hot dispirited travelers arrived in his condo and WHOA! THere was an immediate lifting of every spirit.  What a place. It was gorgeous. I had tried to find a really special place for us to finish our trip and I had succeeded. About 30 minutes out of Lisbon by train, the condo was large. It had a huge designer kitchen, lovely living room with fabulous sound system and good sized TV with English speaking stations. There were two baths and two bedrooms. The master bath was enormous with a designer shower that had three levels. It was so complicated Ken never even tried it. To my absolute joy, the other bath had a full and absolutely lovely deep bathtub. We had a washer AND a dryer. We had almost every appliance imaginable most of which we never used.

  But best of all we had a large balcony that looked directly out over the ocean. Yes, it was on the other side of the tracks and the only drawback to the whole thing was that the trains run exactly in front of the condo and they go by every 15 minutes or so. But if you closed the doors, you really couldn’t hear them. We never closed the doors. We just loved sitting on the balcony and feeling the fresh air way too much. And though the trains were frequent, we were never really bothered by them. There were actually THREE balconies--the master one off the living room, and two smaller ones off each bedroom, This place was fantastic. I would never want to leave.

And honestly, it was quite cheap--much less than we had paid in Switzerland or pretty much everywhere else.

  Orlando put on his shirt (again, not that I noticed) and started showing us everything. He spoke excellent English. One of the very nice things he has done for those using his condo is to draw up a booklet explaining how to use the washer and other features of the condo. He explains the trains going to Lisbon in one direction and to the resort towns of Estoril and Cascais the other, He recommends restaurants, tells you where the grocery stores are, and describes the various beaches, etc etc. If I were ever to rent our house on Airbnb I would do the same. It was wonderful. He showed Ken how to get in and out of the outside gate, the front door and gave him a key to the condo. Eventually, he picked up his man purse and left. We were on our own. This fabulous condo was ours. All we wanted to do was just go sit on the balcony and look at the sparkling beautiful ocean in front of us (and yes there were some rocks and  crashing waves as well as a great long beach--it was a GOOD ocean),

  I was worn out but after awhile Columbus Ken decided to go exploring. I was very happy to rest my foot and let him go. He went out the door but a few minutes later was back. It seems he couldn’t get out the main gate. “Orlando said just to wave the entry card in front of it and it would unlock,” he said in puzzlement. “I’ve waved and waved and the thing won’t open!”

  Well this is definitely not my area of expertise so I was of no help. Ken always figures everything out eventually so I just kept on looking at the ocean and resting my foot. Pretty soon he went out and tried again. And came back again. “It will NOT work!” he said in a very annoyed tone. He kept staring at me and I just knew that he expected me to get up and go out to try to help. “I don’t have a clue, Ken”  I said knowing it was of no use. I was going to have to go out with him and try. So resignedly I got up, put on my shoes and walked out. I tell you we waved that entry card in every direction and under and above everything imaginable. We were locked in! No way out! We were going to spend the rest of our lives locked into this condo block.

  “It just doesn’t make sense that we have to wave a card to get OUT of the block,”  I said in frustration. “I can see having to use it to get IN, but not out.” “No I totally agree,” said my husband, “but I can’t see any other way to get out.”

  We stood there at a loss. Suddenly a young Spanish guy walked up to the gate, waved his card and came into the block. We immediately stopped him and and asked what we were doing wrong. He looked at us in surprise. “You don’t need that to get out,” he said. “Only in.” And he proceeded to bend down, touch a latch that honestly was hidden from view and voila! the gate opened. We thanked him profusely. We offered him our first born child (it’s ok Blake, he turned us down),

  Ken walked me back to the condo and let me in and then he took off exploring. After a while he came back with bread, butter and some drinks from the mini market near the condo.

  Later that night we walked down to the beach. It was just beautiful. We walked a long ways further trying to find a place to eat, but everything had pretty much closed down. We were out of luck unless we wanted to catch the train to Estoril the resort town just up the coast. If we had known then how easy it was to do, we might have done it. But we hadn’t discovered Estoril yet, so we decided to cut our losses and eat bread and butter and the grapes we had.

  Then we went to bed and slept with ocean breezes blowing through the glass doors onto us. What a great place!  Ken still owes me $100.

End of Day 30

A very weary Elise collapses on the comfortable couch

The foyer with second bath off it (there was the most WONDERFUL deep bathtub in this bathroom

Master bath

Fancy master shower that Ken said was too complicated to even try out

Our balcony

Looking from dining room to living room and balcony

Dining room

One side of beautiful kitchen

Master bedroom with balcony

Our beach

More beach 

Beach again

Day 29: The Sleeper Train

   I have now for the first time in my life (and probably the only time) taken a shower on a train. I have also slept in a bed on the train.

  When planning the trip I had discovered that the only reasonable train from Spain to Portugal is the overnight train from Madrid to Lisbon. It was a bit pricey to get a sleeper cabin for two--it actually would have been cheaper to fly. But this is a trip of experiences--and Ken and I decided to add to our experiences and take a sleeper train.

  First we had to get reservations for the train that would take us from Barcelona to Madrid where we would catch the sleeper. I had reservations for every single major train trip the entire way except this one.. I don’t know if it was my mistake or Rail Europe’s, but the fact was that we had no reservations. I wasn’t sure if we needed them, but the trains fill up and it is often a good thing to have reserved seats. So we went to the Barcelona station to get the seats. And herein came another new experience. We went to the help window, stood in a short line and got a very nice girl who spoke fairly good English. She told us what train to take--the 5:15 to Madrid which was a direct line. We were a bit concerned in that we would have to switch from the station the train came in at to the Chamartin station where the sleeper left from but she assured us that we had two hours to do it in and the trains to Chamartin ran every 15 minutes (as it turned out they ran every 5). We pulled out our euros and she shook her head and told us we would have to buy the tickets at “windows 8-18”. Seemed dumb to us to have to go to another window to purchase, but what the heck!

  We headed off and easily found the correct windows and to my relief there was no lines at any of these windows. GREAT!! This was going to be easy. But no--of course it wasn’t. My ever suspicious husband said, “You know, Elise I think we’re supposed to get a number and wait for it to be called. All these people sitting here aren’t sitting here just for the fun of it.”

   I had noticed about 70 people sitting in seats in front of the windows, but assumed they were just waiting for trains. But of course Ken was right. We had to take a number. He found the ticket machine and we got something like number 207. We sat down and waited. And waited some more. I’d guess it was more than an hour later when our number was called. We finally got to the window and got our seat reservations. The cost for the reservations stunned me--approximately 50 euros! Seemed a LOT of money to reserve two seats. But we paid it and finally were able to head out. This had happened the day before.

   So now we were in our last day in Barcelona. And Parc Guell loomed its ugly head over us again that morning. We got up, cleaned Silvina’s apartment and left for the train station about noon. We arrived in Barcelona about 12:30 with hours to wait. It was time for Parc Guell.

  Finally we admitted it.. We didn’t want to go. As we told each other, we had been able to get some photos of the wild interior from the outside premises. We had a good idea of what was inside. We just didn’t want to walk that far. So we didn’t. Blake was disappointed when we told him later as he thought it was a place we should have not missed, but he understood.

  We wandered around Barcelona a bit and then when my foot really started hurting we went back to the train station to wait. Ken discovered something that was to prove valuable.. We had considered ourselves real veterans now on catching trains. You just showed up, read the board, found your train and the track and headed there. But Ken wandered around a bit and said to me “You know I think we have to go through security to get on trains here.”

  Even earlier we had discovered that Barcelona takes security seriously. We had left our luggage and found our luggage had to be scanned and so did we before we could enter the luggage room.

  Ken was right. No walking just to the track here. It was at this station that Basque separatists had pulled off a terror attack and security is taken very seriously now. In fact here it was very much like an airport. People line up and have to go through a regular security line. Then you wait in a special lounge for your train to arrive. We were surprised to see people start lining up for the train about 15 minutes before departure. Seemed odd to us. Why do that especially with reservations? No one could take your seat. But ever the cautious ones, we lined up too. I think really I was right--we didn’t have to. I saw several businessmen who were clearly regular travelers who never left their seats to get in line. I think they just waited for the line to finish, then they waltzed onboard and found their seats. But really, I was sort of glad we had got in line. We were near the front and didn’t have to fight to get our luggage in the overhead compartments and we were among the first in our cabin to be seated.

  And then the train started and were we in for a wonderful surprise. This Spanish train was completely different than any we had taken before. We had traveled first class all the way and it was pleasant, but nothing like what we experienced here. We were treated like first class airline passengers. The stewards came down the aisle constantly. We could choose ANY beverage we wanted including Dewars, wine or most any other kind of alcohol--all as part of that reservation fee I had been so shocked at the price of. They even had a zero alcohol beer that Ken tried and liked a lot, They came by with hot towels to wipe our dainty fingers with. A meal was served. Magazines and newspapers were handed out. I’m telling you, it was luxurious.

  Eventually we arrived in Madrid. Figuring out how to get to Chamartin was a bit stressful but we did it and arrived there with an hour to spare. And then finally, it was time to board our sleeper train.

   A very nice steward stood outside and directed us to our cabin and berth. We entered to find our beds all made up and about a foot of spare room to move around in. We checked out our private bathroom. Decent sized shower, sink and leather cases filled with samples of soap, toothbrushes, tissues, slippers, and a host of other things.

  Ken figured out how to put the beds up and turn the compartment into a regular compartment with seats which gave us more room to move about. Later he figured out that we could put the suitcases in an overhead compartment, but we didn’t see that right away and it felt good to store the suitcases at the ends of where the beds had been before Ken changed it to a seat compartment. We actually felt we had some room to relax.

  Well, soon I decided to go to bed. It was 11 and we had to be up by 6:30 as the train would roll into Lisbon at 7:55 (we didn’t realize until we got up and got dressed that the time changed and we actually had a spare hour).. I fold Ken I was going to take a shower and then I wanted to go to bed so could he please get the beds back down (we had bunk beds--Ken slept on top).

  I tried out the shower--cramped but not as bad as you might think. Got my jammies on and opened the door to the regular compartment to find my husband with a distracted look on his face. “You can’t just put the beds back down,” he said. “You have to have a hex wrench.” He hunted all over for one and just couldn’t find it.. Finally he was forced to go down the hall and find the steward who came back with a non-too happy look on his face. Apparently you are not supposed to put the beds back up. The steward was the only one with the needed wrench and with a look of long suffering patience, he once again brought the beds back down into place.

  With red faces we thanked him and I crawled into bed. Ken decided to take his shower too and soon he was in bed as well.

   I sleep very well on trains (at least I’ve slept well in the seats as we’ve traveled along) so I expected to sleep well in the sleeper car. All in all I did pretty well although I did wake up a number of times.

   Soon our alarms went off and we found ourselves trying to get dressed in the dinky space allotted. Ken--brave man that he is--put the beds back up! Eventually we were dressed and ready for departure.

  Just as we were figuring the train should be coming in there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find our patient steward outside. “One hour” he said. ‘You have one hour before we arrive.” That’s when we realized the time had changed in the night and we were an hour ahead of Lisbon time. The steward was giving us a “wake up call”. He looked around me, saw the beds back up, got a sour look on his face but said nothing and disappeared down the hall to wake up the next cabin.

  An hour later, we arrived at St. Apolonia station in Lisbon.

End of Day 29

Peeking into the compartment from the outside hall

The top bunk all made up

Looking into the Water Closet (bathroom)

The train

Ken rearranges so we have seats

Ken prepares to take a shower :)

The fold down steps leading to the upper bunk