Homeless for a night

Well couchsurfing didn´t fail us but the Spanish rail system did.

Our Bracelona experience was fantastic. Our hosts, Cris and Fred gave us their spare bedroom and really in all ways possible opened their world for us. They provided us with helpful hints about the city and even had a map and brochures for us.

After a full day of touring the city on foot, which Cris was shocked about. They made us a gorgeous meal, Spanish Tortilla, which is like a fat potatoe omlete. It was the best home cooked meal we'd eaten is weeks. I'm getting sick of restaurants and cafes.

Sitting on cushions around their coffee table with a Spanish soap opera in the background we shared conversation that made me feel like I'd known them for longer than just 2 days.

We left for Madrid the next day with hopes of making it all the way to Malaga, but the information centre I went to in Barcelona was not helpful.

We arrived in Madrid and hoped to get on the last train south to Malaga, but needless to say this did not happen.

It was dark when we arrived so it was next to impossible to get our bearings in a foreign city with only 7 hours to go until the first morning train would leave. We didn´t want to fork over the money for a hotel we would use for only a handful of hours so we decide dto stick it out at the trainstation for the night.

The area outside of the train station was in everyway dodgey. I felt safer in the train station with homeless milling around inside than I did walking around the busy streets.

Sadly, the Madrid trainstaion locks everyone out at 1 a.m. So we had to leave!

Just before our eviction I had strck up conversation with a man that had a Canadian leaf on his bag. Leo is 80-years-old and from Duncan, B.C. He has been visiting Tanjiers every year for the past 30 years. It´s a good will visit. He spends his own money on the street kids and others in need.

Myself, Brandon and our new friend Leo left the station in search of someform of free shelter until 5 a.m. when the station would reopen.

It was a McDonald's that we stayed in until it closed at 2 a.m. I went to the washroom and a girl my age was openly shooting up.

From there we strolled through the streets full of Friday night party goers and found a kebab shop that was open. The man, Mustafa spoke brilliant English, but was upset to have turned us away as he was closing, but he took us on as his personal mission.

We followed him down the street to a hotel flashing their neon pink sign. This hotel had a locked courtyard that they were willing to let us wait in for 3 hours.

Mustafa was our translator and our saviour that night.

He told us that Madrid after dark really is a scary place to be and I believed it. I just never thought I'd ever feel so vulnerable, lost and far from home. But those handful of hours had me feeling all of these horrible stages of fear.

So we waited and waited. Leo had a wool sweater that he removed from his luggage for me. So we all bundled up and waited on the stone benches in the courtyard.

Those hours rolled along so slowly, but when 5 a.m. finally arrived I felt like dancing in the streets on our way back to the train station. Yeah! We were free!

It's strange how the early darkness of fall puts a foreigner on lockdown.

Leo bought us a hotchocolate and kept thanking him for ´saving his life´. I told him that he saved us too, but he didn't believe me. But if it weren't for his frail state I'm sure people wouldn't have left us alone as they did.

We hugged him goodbye and he went his way and we went ours.

Hoping Couchsurfing won't fail us.

We haven't had much luck with couchsurfing yet. I think it's because we don't give potential hosts enough notice or maybe it's because we have no references yet because we haven't experienced our first 'couch'.

But we finally found hosts in Barcelona where we wil travel to today. Only problem is, is that the couchsurfing website messaging service decided to die on us over the last 2 days so we haven't been able to correspond. I left a message as a reference (not sure if they'll even get it) telling them what time our train arrives.

We are to meet them on a bench at a specific city estacio. I pray to the powers at be that they are there. If not, tonight may be the night we sleep in a train station.

Long overdue

Our route thus far has been:

Glasgow - Stranraer - Belfast - Galway - Dublin - Dusseldorf - Cologne - Amsterdam - Bruges - Ypres - Brussels - Lille - Reims - Dijon - Geneva - Lyon - Avignon

Therefore this post is long overdue.

Travelling without a set plan or route is just as foreign to me as drinking beer in the streets.

We wake up in the mornings and if we've seen enough of the city we're in we move on. But it isn't until that morning that a decision is made as to where we're going. This is both freeing and frightening. But so far I've been able to put my concern and worries in neutral and just go.

I keep hearing from other hostelers that the worst case scenerio is that you have to sleep in a train station for a night; they've been there and done that. They say it's all about the backpacking experience; so far it hasn't come to that for us, but it may.

Leaving Bruges was bittersweet for me. The Snuffle Inn was the hostel we stayed at and after only 2 nights it began to feel like home. The beds were comfortable, breakfast was included and the owners didn't skimp on heat.

We strapped our packs on and headed out towards the Bruges trainstation. Direction: Somewhere in France.

Not knowing where you're off to with minimal to no background information can really waste a day; as it did this day.

After a full day in trainstations and on the train we finally ended up in Reims. When done correctly the trip should have taken 3 hours from Brussels.

The morning after our arrival we were back on the train, but this time we had a plan (created that morning). We would stay in Dijon for a few nights. Yes! No more bouncing around, at least for 2 nights in a row.

There are good plans and there are bad plans; Dijon was a very, very good plan.

It was cheaper for us to settle into a chambre avec non toilet than it was to find a hostel. So we found our little space of French realestate at Hotel le Jaquesmart on a one way backstreet.

Our room was cozy and a way up three steep staircases up on the very top floor, which felt more like a converted attic. Our view was of the roof tops of the 400-year-old stone manors and town homes.

The next day was spent under the warmth of low autumn sunshine that would peak out between the elaborate homes and churches. These buildings continue to house people as well as immense history.

It was a market day. We weaved in and out of the outdoor fruit vendors, book vendors and anything you could think of selling vendors; all the while we were careful not to squash into a freshly laid 'poo-poo'. Dogs in France have no shame.

I was just so happy to walk around all day and take it all in. Once the sun set at around 5 p.m. we bundled ouselves up in our cozy room with 2 lemon tarts and a bottle of rosé.