We got to the bus station about an hour before departure time. Two Portugal-bound buses arrived and people speaking a variety of languages descended on them, trying to figure out which bus to take. Each bus driver told me, “Not this bus, other.” We and several others had no idea what to do. Our departure time was approaching and there was no one on the platform to assist us.
Someone who had gone to the ALSA (bus line) info office said that the bus to Lisboa would arrive shortly. The speaker turned out to be Neville, a moderator on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela Forum. Dennis kept wondering why there was no communication with the passengers and why the authorities did not use the monitor on the wall which showed the various trains and routes to indicate arrivals, departures, and platforms as is done in train stations and airports. Sometimes the obvious seems too easy.
Ten minutes before our scheduled departure time, the bus arrived and we departed the terminal about 15 minutes late. This long distance bus had reclining seats, movies, air-conditioning, but no toilet. When the driver pulled into the station announcing a 10-minute stop, most of the passengers ran off to the facilities–I was in the lead (hearing the William Tell Overture in my mind), not wanting to be left behind.
At our next pit stop, we could not find the toilets. As a last resort, I went to the information office. The person behind the desk pointed to a key on the wall and indicated the back of the building. The key fit the lock on a nondescript door; it must have been a private toilet. When I got out, there was a line of people who I recognized as fellow passengers waiting for to use the johns.
The following break was in Portugal. The signage there is not “Aseos” as is Spain but W/C. I recognized that from my time in France forty years ago. There were three toilets in the women’s and I was in the first group of users. When we got out, the three of us panicked–the bus was gone. No sign of Dennis, backpacks, nothing! At last, someone told us to wait, the bus had only left for washing and would return shortly. When it arrived, Dennis who had stayed on the bus, told me how he too had panicked when the bus start to leave. Should he get off the bus and leave our belongings or stay with them and hope to meet up with me later. Luckily, it all worked out.
We arrived in Lisboa about two hours later than scheduled, around 8 pm (and with the time shift after sitting on the bus for 10 hours). At the station, I felt overwhelmed with the strangeness of being in a country where I did not speak the language, know the customs, or even where to go next. There were no signs indicating how to get out of the terminal, the location of the taxis, nothing. I asked the person standing next to me where she was going and we shared a taxi to the center of the Old Quarter. We are staying in the pension São João da Praça. We huffed up four flights to our room, then went for supper to a restaurant around the corner called Almargem, which turned out to be one of the most traditional restaurants in Lisboa. I had sardines and Dennis had a fish stew. It was a long day.
This morning we realized that from our room we see the Rio Tejo (the Tagus River) and hear the cathedral bells which is across the street. It is sunny and will be in the 80’s today…first time in over a month that I will be warm. Hooray!
You continue to amaze me. What else can I say?
I leave in two hours for three days in Washington, DC, to attend the Global Forum of the American Jewish Committee. My great-niece, who lives in Annandale, VA, will attend, too, so it’ll be a treat to see her. Usually, I see her only infrequently but she and her mother came to Miami Beach this past April to attend the Glass Ceiling Awards program at the Jewish Museum of Florida where I was an awardee.
While in DC, I plan to attend with friends a luncheon at the National Women’s Democratic Club where my friend and feminist, Ruth Nadel, who I believe is 99, will be the speaker. And I’m having a reception and dinner party for thirteen DC-area friends. So, there’s much to look forward to.
But I spent all day yesterday packing, which was the pits.
Your description made me feel I was there. All the ups and downs!!
Are you and your husband walking to Santiago? If you are, I can’t wait to hear of this adventure as I planned to do that next year. You are both such an adventuresome couple.
Travel safe!
You too, Lillian, must be adventuresome. Since we don’t speak Portuguese, we are going to follow Brierley’s guide book. At first we had planned to walk the Coastal Way, but many people advised us against doing that since we don’t speak the language and the Camino is poorly marked. Hope this blog whets your appetite for your journey.
Jane, being alone I know the feeling but it seems to work out. I ask a lot of questions and as someone, I think Reagan said, trust but verify. I have still not seen a pilgrim yet on this coastal route
And I feel like I’m on a scavenger hunt looking for yellow arrows and then charades trying to get my questions answered using every way possible
Rick
I am sure being alone is testing your mettle, especially without knowledge of Portuguese. You are very courageous. Looking forward to exchanging adventure stories.
Rick, I liked your analogy so much I tweeted it. Do you have a twitter name?