a bus to Granada airport.
a fucking idiot. I got the bus to the airport at 10am and sat in the
very back reading, engrossed in my book. It was only by 10.45am that
I realised there was no one else on the bus. I walked to the front
and asked the driver if we’d passed the airport- he shat himself,
because he thought he was alone on the bus and we swerved on the
motorway before he regained control. He asked me where I’d come from-
I said I was asleep in the back- it was too difficult to explain that
I’d been really into what I was reading. Then I panicked and asked to
get off the bus. The driver, whose accent was weird and whose voice
was gravelly as fuck asked me what time my flight was, I tell him
12.30. I think he’s trying to explain that it’s going to be okay, but
I can’t understand him, maybe he doesn’t understand that I need to
get this flight, that it was expensive, that it was an absurd luxury
I’d indulged in rather than get the bus or train overland for the
next sixteen hours. Again, I ask him just to let me off, I’ll get a
taxi, where can I get a taxi, just take me to a taxi. He’s getting
annoyed by me, mostly because of the language barrier and finally he
just says, “Look and wait. You wait and you look. Look. Wait.” I
say I understand, he’s doing a loop back into town and then going
back to the airport. “Just look and wait. Look. Wait.” Yes, I
understand now, thank you, thank you, I understand. The coffee I had
earlier won’t allow me to relax, I’ve got the travel fever, the
panic, I get like this when I’m not in control of my shit. We’ll make
it, I mean, I know we’ll make it on time, I’ll be there by 11.40,
that’s still 20 minutes before they close the gate. It’s totally
fine, other people do this shit all the time. I am such a fucking
retard. It’s 11.13, I’m back at the place where I caught the bus in
the first place. I am such a fucking cock. Next time I’m going to be
three hours early, I have no problem waiting, it’s way better than
I made it. And… the flight is delayed. Brilliant, hilarious,
perfect. It’s cool, cruel, ironic, typical.
hostel I can’t remember the name of in San Sebastian.
lots of bits and pieces I’ve missed in the last few days, hopefully
all the good stuff or anything worth talking about or noting will
find itself out of my brain and onto the page. Most of it doesn’t
really matter anyway.
last time I was in San Sebastian I’d hitchhiked here with my best
friend Chili, we were 18, we had no money and we slept on a beach in
a tent that leaked water as it pissed down all around us. It’s a
little different this time around. I’ve already eaten all of the
fresh seafood available, had two hot showers and slept in a bed.
I start the Camino, I’m a little worried, mostly because I have not
planned it at all and I’m just going to walk as far as I can and see
where I end up each day and then take it from there. In the tourist
office today I managed to find out where the trail leads out of here
from and then I bought dates and nuts and all the other shit that
people who go rambling eat and I’m doing laundry and going to clip my
toenail and stretch and psychologically prepare myself. I’m leaving
at first light, like an army. Apparently there’s been lots of rain
recently so the trail might be a bit of a bitch- and it’s quite
hilly- and there are wild dogs…
whenever I have wandered off road in Granada, or have done anywhere
in Spain, invariably I wander onto someone’s property and they have
some mental dog that springs from nowhere and barks like crazy and
leaves me trembling. Dogs here are a different prospect.
I’m too distracted to write anything of worth, I’m going to sort my
shit out and prepare for tomorrow. Another time McCloud!