After an uneventful flight from San Francisco to Madrid that featured a tasteless turkey sandwich served for lunch before we landed, I arrived in Spain at two in the afternoon.
I’d only slept three hours on the flight because I believe in getting my body adjusted to the new zone as soon as possible. Madrid is nine hours ahead of San Francisco, so while everyone around me slept, I caught up on correspondence and organized my fall classes. The eleven hours passed quickly.
I’d put a lot of energy into researching the right hotel to stay in in Madrid. My plan was to spend one night here when I arrived (that’s today), fly to Berlin the next morning (that’s tomorrow). Then after a week exploring Berlin with my German friend Michaela, I’d fly back to Madrid, and then on to Santiago de Compostela to meet my co-leaders, Brenda and Andre, to prepare for the arrival of the 13 pilgrims who will be arriving next week for the Creative Camino.
I wanted a hotel close to the airport since my morning flight to Berlin requires me to arrive at the airport by 5:15 am. I wanted a hotel that could store everything I need for the Camino, currently stuffed in a big, very heavy old golf bag I inherited from my mother. My goal was to store this bag at the hotel, travel light for my week in Berlin, unencumbered by all my STUFF—much of it consumables like the giant bag of fiber supplements I’m bringing, the morning oatmeal I’ll be cooking in my hotel rooms, the plug in heating coil to heat the water to make the oatmeal, the little instant coffee packets my gastroenterologist convinced me to bring to regulate my bowels each morning, the many supplements I take, the gifts I’ve brought for my students.
I wrote a whole post about my aspiration to travel light. https://laurasaridavis.substack.com/…/so-much-for… For this trip, it has remained an aspiration.
So, I figured the next best thing was to ditch the big black bag in Madrid, so I’d only have to carry a backpack and a collapsible tote to Berlin.
I conferred with Claude AI on this plan six weeks ago. It was the first time I’d relied on Claude for travel research. We (Claude and I) found two possible hotels near the airport. I corresponded with both of them and booked the one that said they could store my luggage for three euros a day.
It seemed like a good plan.
But today, when I emerged from customs and baggage claim, pushing a cart with bags, I shoved my myriad belongings out to the street to catch the free shuttle to the hotel. I hadn’t taken the time to review my travel arrangements as well as I should, so as I stood there, I reread the information Claude had given me about getting the shuttle. He said I had to call the hotel and ask them to send the shuttle to me.
That’s where I met my first problem. I’d installed a European SIM card so I could have unlimited data for this trip, but I didn’t get a phone number. Making phone calls in other countries where I don’t speak the language always seems to end in failure. So, I rely on other ways to communicate: text, email and WhatsApp.
But because I didn’t have a phone number, I had no way to call the hotel to ask them to send the shuttle for me. But Claude had also told me that if I missed the shuttle, I could take a taxi. Claude said it would be a 20-30 minute taxi ride and that it would cost twenty-five to thirty Euros. I just wanted to get to the hotel. So I hailed a cab and gave him the address.
My hotel, it turns out, was only five minutes away. Yet the driver insisted I pay him 35 Euros plus a 20 Euro “airport fee.” So, in my first five minutes on the ground in Spain, I was ripped off for 55 Euros for a five-minute ride that I could have gotten for free.
The whole thing left a yucky taste in my mouth. What kind of foolish traveler was I?
And when I finally reached the hotel, they told me Claude had been wrong—there was no need to call them, the shuttle drives through the airport on a regular rotation.
Claude, why did I listen to you?
That was only my first problem. Minutes later, when I went to check in, I realized that when I made the reservation, I had gotten the two hotels mixed up. The one I’d booked, where I was standing with all my stuff piled around me, does NOT store luggage. Which had been the whole point.
I had gotten it wrong.
The woman at the desk suggested I use the lockers at the airport. So, I spent the next half hour trying to figure out how to re-awaken my “home” cell service from the States so I could call the luggage storage people at the Madrid airport to inquire about the rental of an extra-large locker. But I was thwarted: I couldn’t get my cell service back on, and the service center was closed.
Finally, the woman at the counter took pity on me and let me use her phone. The guy at the storage center said that an extra-large locker would cost two hundred Euros ($227.00.) for a week. That was crazy expensive. There are other cheaper storage places in the city of Madrid, but I did not have the bandwidth to start schlepping around a new city, figuring out the public transit system while carrying my huge bag, looking for a home for it.
I was hungry and drooping. All that jet lag was kicking in.
And I was not feeling like a seasoned traveler.
I am definitely not going to rely on Claude for travel advice again. Every time he estimates a travel-related cost, the service hasn’t been available or the true cost has been dramatically higher. Claude’s information is often erroneous. The hotel was not half an hour from the airport. The taxi did not cost twenty-five Euros. I did not need to call the hotel to alert them to send a driver to retrieve me. Claude may be good at brainstorming ideas, but he sucks at nailing down details.
And I hadn’t taken the time to double-check his work.
Finally, having run through my coping resources, I sat down at a little table and texted Michaela. She was on a train heading toward Berlin when she got my WhatsApp message. She called me right back, using WhatsApp calling—always free. It was so nice to hear a friendly voice. We finally determined that the best thing for me to do was to bring all my bags with me to Berlin. I relinquished my original plan and will deal with all my Camino stuff in Germany.
Once this was settled, I went up to my room, took a shower, and went for a very long walk, exploring local parks in the neighborhood. Being out in the sunlight is one of the best things to do for jetlag. Plus, I really needed to stretch my legs.
I walked for a long time until another wave of exhaustion caused me to head for a bench. I people-watched for a while. The park was full of kite-flyers, families pushing strollers, kids of all ages playing football (soccer), people jogging. Lots of people enjoying the outdoors. I just sat there, letting the lilt of their Spanish wash over me.
That’s when I remembered something I always tell my students: “Bad for Life, Good for Story.” Yes, I could definitely get a blog post out of this.
I opened the little travel notebook I always carry with me and brainstormed two lists on a piece of paper.
One elucidated the things that had gone wrong:
· I trusted Claude and I shouldn’t have. I didn’t double check his work.
· I didn’t review the shuttle details.
· I mixed up the two hotels I researched and made a reservation at the wrong one.
· I am carrying WAY too much shit. As always. It’s such a burden.
· I got taken in by a cabbie at the airport.
The second list highlighted my strengths:
· My SIM card installation went flawlessly.
· My luggage wasn’t lost.
· I have friends and family I can reach out to when I’m in trouble.
· I have a credit card and can afford to make mistakes.
· I am nimble.
· I have a sense of humor.
· I am a writer. I can turn lemons into lemonade using words.
Composing a story in my head is always a good antidote to humiliation.
Photography also calms my spirit. Here’s just a little of what I saw during my walk through Madrid today.
NOTE: This travel blog is being written on the go while I’m leading the Creative Camino retreat. So, I don’t time to edit and smooth the copy. Typos and unpolished writing are just part of the Virtual Vacation blog. I hope you enjoy it anyway!
