24-26th jan

24th:
Slept poorly but at least managed to get through the night without having to make a mad rush for the toilet. The run was predictably awful and breakfast not much better. I felt completely drained and gave up any plans of going for a ride around the city and just worked on catching up on the blog.

Around three thirty, I was feeling a little better and went looking for an internet cafe so I could actually upload the blogs (stupid hostel internet connection was not working at all). Couldn't find an open Locutorio, but after scoffing down 2000 calories of pastries (I had a strange craving for something sweet and indulgent), I was, well not 'infused' with energy, but in better shape than before so I decided to walk to the train station.

Maybe I was slightly feverish, but I felt deliriously happy, grinning widely for no real reason as I walked through the city. Spotting a Jardin, I strolled in and my grin spread even wider. It was so lovely, so calm and peaceful. There were beautiful ponds and lush green vegetation that had obviously benefited from the recent rain. I almost laughed out loud when I saw people riding these fantastic four person tandem cycle-coaches (picture to come).

The Plaza de Espagna (almost certainly spelt incorrectly) was on the other side of the gardens, and I marvelled at the palatial splendour of it. An enormous structure, impeccably preserved, with terrific ceramic detailing, it was spoilt only by some stupid, decorum lacking (I sound like an old man) British teenagers attempting to film a skating video on the steps of the plaza.

There was no hurry at all, and I detoured through a few more public gardens before getting to the station. It was really nice doing a touristy walking tour. It's the kind of thing I was hoping to be able to do while on tour, but which didn't end up happening. There's just not enough time in the day, and to be honest, it's hardly worth it considering how difficult it is to get into cities.

At the train station, I didn't bother lining up at the ticket counter and just asked the guy at the info booth straight up if I could take my bike to Zaragoza. Nope. Apparently there's no regional link between Madrid and Zaragoza, so it just wasn't going to happen. Damn..
"What can I do then?"
"Try the bus station."
He thought it was too far to walk, but I didn't care and followed the directions of a few helpful Sevillians, still blissfully cheerful.

I bought a ticket to Madrid (26 euros with the bike) and ran back to the hostel, one hand dedicated to the job of holding my jeans up (I need a belt!).

Had a great chat with Jose in the room that night. It was the perfect scenario, where both of us were experts in the language the other one wanted to learn. I learnt a lot about Chile and picked up a ton of Spanish (including my current fave: asqueroso - rancid, disgusting).

25th:
My clothes had finally dried enough for me to pack up and I managed to get everything organised much better than it had been the whole trip. Tried to go for a run, but gave up after two minutes because I was just feeling too sick. Breakfast didn't help in that regard.

Rode the three km to the bus station, where two friendly policemen took great interest in my bike. Had a bit of an altercation with the bus driver while stowing my bike, but he gave up when I showed little sign of understanding what he was saying (I think he was saying my bike would get damaged and that I should have put it in a box - bah).

It was the perfect day to do a lot of bus travel. I was feeling really awful and it rained constantly. Going 110kph on the autovia felt very strange after having been on a bike for so long. One doesn't feel the distance when each km only takes 34 seconds (I timed it).

The sun was shining when we got to Madrid and I rode very slowly (legs very sore) to another bus station, stopping to buy corn chips and churros. The bus to Zaragoza left in 90 minutes (a relief actually because I hadn't been able to research the timetable on the internet or in person). I sat collapsed next to the bike and read one of Luke's books.

Nearly had a nasty accident going up an escalator with the bike, my weakened body unable to hold it in place, and we both fell down a few steps before I thought to hold the rear brake. Nothing serious though, and soon I was on the second bus for the day, the bus driver having helped me to cover the wheels with garbage bags (other drivers would not have let me on he said).

It was very crowded, and a fat, black man seemed put out at having to squeeze his bulk past me. I'd finished all my books and after re-reading the grammar section of my phrase book, put on the discman to block out the crappy Spanish pop someone was inconsiderately playing from their mobile phone and tried to go to sleep.

Didn't have much success in that regard, so I was very tired when we reached Estacion Delicias in Zaragoza at 11.15 PM after 8 hrs and 950km of bus travel. Getting out my laptop I tried to find directions to the youth hostel where I was planning to stay for the next five nights. Riding north west like Google maps suggested, I crossed over a bridge, which was not meant to happen. Oops. Backtrack. Try West then North. Autovia. Very tired. See sign telling me that I'm leaving Zaragoza. Give up and drag my bike over the safety barrier and just stealth camp next to the service road.

26/1:
Slept surprisingly well in spite of the proximity of the highway and after a desperate rush for a ditch to deal with the symptoms of the stomach bug (gorey details excluded), packed up and feeling awful, rode into the city. Managed to find the hostel after a while, booked in for four nights, shot off some emails, and then decided to go do some touristy stuff.

There was a Muslim/Moorish castle not far from where I was, so I walked over there, paid my 1 euro and strolled around the fortress. It's pretty cool, in great condition thanks to decades of restoration work. Walking in to the keep, I first had to submit to a security screening. The fairly incompetent guard had let me go through before he called me back urgently yelling 'Knife!!', apparently not having looked at the x-ray image properly before he let me through. I didn't have a knife, but I had to take all my stuff out from my backpack before he was satisfied. It seemed like a completely unnecessary and uneconomic precaution to me (were they that worried about tourists carving their names into the castle walls??) before I discovered that the castle was also the seat of the Zaragozan parliament. Now that's cool!

The museum was fairly interesting, but I was feeling like collapsing and didn't mind at all when three security guards began gently shepherding me and the other three visitors out to the exit.

Spent the rest of the day hunched over the laptop, doing some reading. Made some pasta with lentil sauce (how great it is to have a kitchen!), which was exactly what I was craving, but could only eat about half of the smallish amount I made and threw the rest out.