December 5th.
I knew something wasn't right as soon as I woke up. I looked at my watch and prayed that it was wrong. 9:45am. I shot out of bed, grabbed my phone and was starting to freak out. My yelling of obscenities woke up Heiko, who I quickly said "goodbye" to as I grabbed my new coat and pack and left my apartment, sprinting down the street trying to hail a taxi to take me to the bus station.
Telling the driver to take me to the Estación de Autobuses, I was really disappointed in myself for being so stupid and putting myself in such a risky situation. My originally intended bus for Madrid had left at 9:00am. If I could make the 10:00am bus I should still be ok, although I would be cutting it close. A bus any later would almost guarantee me missing my 5:10pm flight to Santander. The bus ride to Madrid is five hours and if I had to take the 11:00am bus, I would be arriving around 4:00 giving me only about 30 minutes to get to the airport and check in with Ryanair who shut down ticket checking 40 minutes before departure and refuse to let anyone on. Half joking, half serious, I asked the bus driver how much it would cost to go to Madrid in taxi. 450 euros. I already was trying to think how I would tell my friend Mike Hirschman, who I was going to be staying with, why I had missed my flight due to my own foolishness.
At the bus station, I ran ran down to where the 10:00am bus leaving for Madrid was pulling out of its space. I begged the driver to let me on, but he said the bus was full and that I would have to buy another ticket. Running back upstairs, I cut in front of the line at the help desk to see if the attendant could change my ticket. She couldn't and I would have to buy a ticket for the 11:00am bus. Realizing the situation that I had put myself in, I decided to wait in line to buy my ticket for 11:00am while calling Heiko and Antonio to see if they could get in touch with their friend Sergio. All three of them were going to Madrid later that afternoon for the weekend, and I was going to ask them if they could leave about 5 hours earlier and take me with them. Sergio was the one with the car and neither Heiko, Antonio, nor me could get in contact with him. Rather than wait for a potential response, I bought my ticket for 11:00am and hoped for the best. I also called Mike to let him know the situation. He said he would look online for buses going from Madrid to Santander although they wouldn't arrive until 2 or 3 in the morning.
I was surprisingly calm on the bus and actually enjoyed the ride as I met a girl from the California State University program here in Granada and we talked most of the way. The bus itself was the fastest one I had been on as we made no unnecessary stops. A slight slimmer of hope was emerging as I thought that I may have a chance to make it.
That slimmer soon faded as we entered the Madrid city limits. Looking intensely at my watch reading 4:00pm, I was deciding between either taking a taxi or trying my luck on the metro which I had done before. There was a ton of traffic and I realized that we wouldn't get to the bus station for at least another half an hour. Realizing that I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, I asked the bus driver if he would let me out of the bus in the middle of the stand still traffic. I grabbed by backpack and raced out of the doors and into the street looking for a taxi that could take me to the airport. With my hiking boots and large green backpack, I really couldn't run that fast but I sprinted my best down the street and crossed when I saw a free taxi. The driver was a young guy with aviator sunglasses. I asked him how much it would cost to go to the airport, how long, and if I could pay with credit card as I no longer had any cash due to the purchasing of the new bus ticket and other taxis. Yes, yes, and yes. Blasting down the freeway to the other end of the city (the bus station and airport are on opposite ends of the city) I kept looking at my watch and telling myself that I was going to make it. He asked me what terminal and I told him "T1 and T2." We arrived with what I thought guessed was 5 minutes before the ticket booking closed. I thanked the driver and sprinted at full speed through a terminal and a half, arriving at the Ryanair check in as they were about to close. Sweating profusely and breathing hard, I handed the attendant my passport and reservation number. I was the last person to check in. The attendant told me that I would have to keep running as the plane was starting to board. With my ticket in my hand, I ran to the security checkpoint. My boots kept setting off the alarm, so after taking them off and sending them through the x-ray machine, I didn't bother to spend the time putting them pack on and sprinted the last 200 meters in my socks with my backpack on one shoulder and boots under my arms as I arrived at the end of the line boarding the aircraft.
In my seat I said "thank you" and caught my breath.
The rest of my traveling was tranquil and the landing in Santander wasn't too bouncy. I called Mike and he told me that once I left the airport, I would see a big green bus that would take me to the Santander bus station where he would meet me.
Looking back at the plane as I crossed the tarmac, I smiled, thankful for being able to catch my plane and happy to be traveling and visiting an old friend in a new place. I found the bus stop and had to wait for the bus in the cold night air. My new jacket worked really well as I felt toasty.
I could see Santander was built along the natural bay and our bus wound along the freeway until we entered the city.
With his parted blonde hair and black jacket, Mike was waiting for me as I steppped off the bus. It was great to see him as one of the last things he had said to me back in San Diego was "We'll meet again in Santander."
Walking from the bus stop, Mike and I began our catching up conversation in Spanish. Mike was an amazing tour guide and he began the introduction to the city with a litany of historical facts. We caught a bus that cut through the city to his homestay house on the other side. On the bus, I was able to see such buildings as the Banco de Santander, a huge building with a terrific arch owned by the richest man in Spain, Emilio Botín. I saw the last remaining statue of Franco, riding a large horse. The statue would be removed in a few days. As Mike told me, the north of Spain and Santander are in the region know as Cantabria which is more conservative and was more pro-Franco and pro-Nationalist. As he would show me later, the granddaughter of Franco lives a few blocks away from his homestay house.
Our bus had followed the coast (the Atlantic Ocean, but around here called the Cantabric Sea) all the way to our ultimate destination. We walked up the path toward the large apartment building and climbed the first flight of stairs. As we opened the door, I was welcomed into the house by Mama Salmón, a small, energetic, 65 year old lady, who never stopped moving. She showed me my bed and gave me a fresh towel, and immediately told us to sit down and EAT! (Mama Salmón has 5 children all in their 30's and was widowed about 25 years ago). The dinner of pork chops and rice was excellent and my first introduction to the best homecooked meals I had had in a long time. I had brought a turrón chocolate bar to share, but it had melted in my frantic journey. It was still good.
After finishing dinner, I took a quick shower and dressed quickly as we left the house to meet up with Mike's group of Spanish friends at a local bar. We walked back toward the city cutting through the large tunnel illuminated with light as I talked to Mike about his life here in Santander and told him about my time in Granada. We arrived at the fake Irish pub and went to one of the tables on the side where I met Mike's very cool group of friends. Miguel Gutierrez (called "Mikey G" by Mike), Martha, Maria and a few others. I liked everyone a lot. After spending about an hour in the bar, we went to go find a restaurant for dinner. (Mike tries to never miss a meal with Mama Salmón and many times he ends up eating two dinners).
What was funny, or what I really found ironic, was that in the conversations that I had in the few hours since I had been in Santander was that I had taken on a new identity of "Andalucía" in addition to my identity as a foreigner. Mama Salmón and Mike's friends noticed that I spoke with an Andalucían accent and that I used Andalucían expressions. I found this very funny as I always feel very foreign in Granada and for me to have taken on the identity of my new home went to show that I had learned a lot. I noticed the Cantabrian and Santnader accent of disregarding the "d" in the adjective form of the words, although I found their Spanish much easier to understand.
Walking through the streets of Santander, I could see it was different than Granada. With the obvious difference of being right on the ocean, I also noticed that the architecture was different and it felt more "stereotypical European." Mike's friends were all very well dressed and held themselves in a much different manner than the Spaniards I know in Andalucía.
We stopped at a "Crepería" where we were joined by another one of Mike's friends. I had a dessert crepe of "Raspberry Marmalade."
After dinner we went to another bar where I had some great conversations with this new group of students. Even though we had gone out to two bars, and one restaurant, I could tell that the social life here was much more subdued as the bar was almost empty on a Friday night and most of the people were much older. Mike is one of the few foreign and Erasmus students in all of Santander.
Mikey G drove us back to the piso around 3:30am. Mike said we should try to get up around 8:30. I should mention that this piso would be worth an extraordinary amount in the US with its size and location. From Mike's room you could see the ocean and from the front door to the sand was a 2 minute walk.
I went to sleep thankful and excited for the weekend.
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