Last Thursday was a holiday in in Andalucia (the southern region of Spain), so no class! With three amigos, I headed to Barcelona for adventures and architecture.
After I succeeded in bopping around Granada Wednesday morning and furiously packing during the last hour prior to leaving, we caught a bus to the Granada bus station. Once there, we found our bus only a few minutes before it was scheduled to leave. My turn to board the bus had almost arrived, but the group of three older adults in front of me were having some difficulties. All three were very tall and were hunched around the bus driver, who was trying to explain something about tickets. They kept asking him to speak in English, so I jumped in. The woman and two men were Dutch and spoke absolutely no Spanish, only a little bit of English. The bus driver explained to me that they had blank tickets that needed to be filled in at the front desk, which needed to be done quickly. 1. The two buses heading to Malaga, our next destination, were about to leave and 2. the few empty spots were filling up quickly. My new friends and I hurried upstairs to the desk. Luckily, the lady in charge spoke English and told us that they would have to wait in a very long line to fix the tickets... and since the buses were about to leave, they would have to take the next bus in a few hours. Apparently, this was not okay, as one of the men leaned way over the desk and said (very boldly), "We... do NOT... accept!" The lady could not reason with them, so we returned to the actual buses, where they eventually signed up for the next bus. I shook hands with them and said goodbye... I had already held up the bus' departure considerably.
Once on the bus, I was informed that the friend in charge of bringing the plane tickets had accidentally left them in Granada. Oops. Things had to get interesting at some point, I suppose! We relaxed until we arrived in Malaga two hours later. Once there, we managed to miss the airport bus (one of the travel companions apparently needed the restroom desperately?). Since we were cutting it close, time-wise, we splurged on a cab.
Airport time: Let it be noted, one girl in our group actually had her ticket, as she printed hers off separately. The three of us went to the RyanAir desk while she proceeded through security, etc. Anyways, the staff informed us that we had to pay an extra fee to reprint the tickets. They instructed us to go directly to the check-in desk, which was to close in 15 minutes (RyanAir closes check-in 30 minutes before boarding begins). In an effort to avoid the steep fee, my roommate went on a quick search for a printer. We found one, but it failed to print our tickets. Confused, we consulted the airport information desk, where we learned that RyanAir blocks all printing from their site on the day of departure. Of course.
Now knowing that the extra fee was unavoidable at that point, we booked it back to check-in, which had just closed. Not good. Consequently, we ended up back at the RyanAir desk, whose staff had (understandably) no sympathy; they definitely warned us earlier. With check-in closed, our only option was to change our flight to the next morning, which came with an even steeper fee. Kindly, RyanAir gave us an hour to make the decision, and since our flight had yet to leave, we decided to keep trying to print those tickets. After much running around the airport (with weighty luggage in tow), we found a sort of hidden customer service desk that knew how to help. Jillian had her ticket and mine saved on her computer, so we could transfer them to the airport computers via flash drive, avoiding the detection of RyanAir. Hooray! BUT, our last friend's ticket was not saved there, so he was definitely not flying that evening. Jillian decided to stay with him and sent me to accompany our other friend (a very anxious traveler) who actually made the flight.
With only a few minutes left, I sprinted through security and to the gate. Thankfully, the boarding line was enormous, so I had a moment to breathe. Phew! As we neared the door, one of the Americans in front of me noticed that I had not gotten my ticket stamped. Shoot. Citizens not of the EU must go to that delightful RyanAir desk (which is definitely on the other side of the airport) to get their ticket stamped, sort of like a customs process. In my hurried state, I had totally forgotten. Since we were already so close to the gate, I decided to try getting through without the stamp. Clearly, people who did not show their passport were passing through without question, so I held mine underneath my papers. The ticket man took mine, began ripping it, and unfortunately got a slight glimpse of my passport at the last minute. So close! I should have left it in my bag entirely, and I probably would have made it. He refused to let me on unless I got the stamp. Off I ran/walked (exhaustion was beating out adrenaline at that point). Back out security and across the airport, I got that thing stamped. Through security again, sweating up a storm, I plowed back to the gate, only to find that the gate closed... merely a minute or so before my return. I collapsed in a chair for a while. Good grief.
Once slightly more composed, I walked out through security again (the workers were sad to see I failed, but I just told them that I should have trained more beforehand). My friends and I purchased tickets for the next morning and sought out decent chairs for sleeping. By this time, it was around 11:30 pm (we left the dorm in Granada around 5:30 pm), so it was time for some sleep. While getting settled, we met an Italian guy, who is also studying in Granada. I deliriously chatted with him for a while, and I think my Spanish might just be better in that state. Who knows. I cannot exactly remember what we talked about, but finally I decided to forego fears of being rude and went to sleep. Best sleep of my life, hands down... as in, not. I managed to score at least an hour, maybe, and was awake to catch the next flight.
We arrived in Barcelona around 10 or 11 am, got a little turned around on the metro, and found our way, in the rain, to our hostel. The staff was so welcoming and graciously helped us settled in, providing us with plenty of blankets and coffee.
And thus concludes part one of Barcelona. More to come later! And do not worry, we had a little bit more luck on our side from here on out.
Until later!
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