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Following a few days spent in Valencia we got the Renfe north to Barcelona, or at least we thought that is what we were doing. The trip to Barcelona started without incident. The train stopped a few times to let passengers on and off as we made our way north along the Mediterranean. All the passengers were passing the time reading or conversing with one another. Then we stopped in Tarragona, a town about an hour south of Barcelona. This stop was somehow different than the others in that every single passenger stood up and walked off the train. So, we decided to do the same. At this point we realized that we were all being ushered across the train station, out the door, and into buses which evidently would take us the rest of the way to Barcelona. It seems Renfe tracks connecting Barcelona to the rest of Spain were under constrution. Well, we were the last ones to get on the bus, but we got on all the same and without adding too much time to our trip we arrived at the busy albeit not-in-service Barcelona train terminal.
At this point we had arrived maybe an hour later
than we had planned. Normally this would not be a big concern excet for I was intending to meet my friend Brandon who had flown in the evening before from London to spend the weekend with me in Barcelona. In our predictive wisdom we had agreed to meet in the Barcelona train station. Now, given that neither of us had ever been to Barcelona we assumed (rightfully so) that the Barcelona train station would be big. So we decided to meet at a point that should be easy to find - Platform #1. Wow, apparently Barcelona does not have a platform #1 - at least not when we were there. Instead the platforms are numbered beginning with #16. This makes no sense whatsoever. So after and hour or so of searching for Brandon we pretty much gave up and hoped to find him waiting at our apartment.
Since we were already at the train station and already of the mindset that things could not go any less according to our plans we decided to buy tickets for our return to Madrid. So we waited our turn in line and approached the ticket agent when our number was called. Now
comes the 1/2 Spanish fluency that I can muster, mixed in with the confused looks/Catalan from the ticket representative. Now, seemingly doing a favor to us, the ticket representative switches to heavily accented English to explain to us that the train tracks connecting Barcelona to the rest of the Spanish train network are out of service. We realize this - we arrived on a bus. She goes on to explain that upon our departure our platform information will be displayed on departures board. When our destination is assigned a platform we are to simply walk to that platform to meet a Renfe representative who will lead us to an awaiting bus outside the terminal. Sounds easy. Further, she explains that announcements will be made over the loudspeakers in the terminal as well when our "train" is departing. Great, even easier. We are off to find our accomodation and hopefully my friend Brandon as well.
About 20 minutes later we arrive at our rental office and find Brandon waiting there for us. He says, "Hey man, there's no platform #1." I say, "I know." No harm, at least we are all together. We head over to our accomodation and unload
our bags and head out to see Barcelona. We spend the next few days seeing the typical sites and eating tapas. We enjoy Barcelona a lot - especially the weird Michael Jackson impersonator along El Rastro who between dance performances pleads to the gathered crowd to take him seriously, that this is what he does for a living.
After a few days we bring Brandon to a bus station that will take him north to Girona where he will catch the Ryanair flight back to London. We kill a few more hours walking around Barcelona and make our way back to the "train" station.
This is when things really fall apart.
We arrive at least an hour early for our departure and take seats in station directly beneath the departures board. We read magazines and wait. After a few minutes our departure is listed on the board. So far so good. We do not have a platform number yet as seemingly it is not yet assigned. Okay, a lot of the departures are yet to be assigned platform numbers and we still have at least a half hour before we depart. Things are good. Time passes and
our departure gradually moves up the board. Still no platform number. Okay, I've heard the Spanish rail system can be somewhat untimely. No big deal. Now it is time for our departure. Still no platform number. Hmmm, should we be concerned? Now the departures board begins spinning again and our departure is gone. Without a trace. Oh no. I have a flight out of Madrid in less than 24 hours and we just missed our departure from Barcelona.
Now my dad is a bull in a china shop. We look at the bright side. There are departures to Madrid every two hours or so. We'll make it. We go discuss our situation with the Renfe staff. They inform us, "You have missed your departure." At least we are on the same page now. Okay, we would like to go on the next train. Okay, not a problem. That will be 120 Euros. Uh oh. Not good. Now my dad is furious.
We go on to explain that we did not miss the train (bus) - the train (bus) left without us. The Renfe staff does not care. We argue more - all the way to the manager's office
where he explains to us that we missed the train and that we need to buy additional tickets to Madrid. We give up our argument, fork over the Euros and wait.
When it is time for our new departure to Madrid we stand in the doorway so the Madrid train (bus) cannot possibly leave without us. It is now we realize that the "announcements" made in the station as well as the "platform information" on the departure board is really nothing more than one Renfe person who holds up a sign with "Madrid" written on it before walking out the side door of the train station. If you do not see this happen and follow this person out the door you "miss your train."
Now, we take the train (bus) to Tarragona where they infrom us that we must disembark the bus and head to platform #4 for Madrid, but not to worry the train is scheduled to leave thirty minutes after we arrive at the station. So we gather our bags and make our way through security to platform #4. The lights aren't even turned on at platform #4, there is no train at platform #4 and
the information screens in the terminal are displaying a Windows error message indicating that "This Program Is Not Responding." At this point there is only one train in the station and really only one platform that has the lights turned on so we head over there and get on that train. We arrive with 15 minutes to spare before our departure time. Immediately after we board the train, it starts to move. It leaves 15 minutes early, from the wrong platform. Well, at least we made it.
We arrive back in Madrid just before midnight. I walk by a drunkish guy outside Atocha station with open wounds on his face. He stares at with a statue-like expression, totally void of emotion. Hmm, I just keep walking. We check into a hotel for one last night and in the morning I catch a flight to Paris.
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