8. Almost missing the bus

I feel as of this week wasn’t as exciting as the week before, but I’ll still dutifully report. Once again I am sorry for not posting when I said I would, but my life has a way of simply not staying with the plans make.

So, after the busy weekend I had a nice quiet Monday. On Tuesday I overslept and had to cram my whole 100 minute morning routine into only 25 minutes – and I was only 10 minutes late for school! I also switched from Economy to Psychology. I just felt that I wasn’t understanding anything in Economy and I didn’t want to waste the teacher’s – or my – time. But, I believe I made the right choice! I get Psychology and the work we do is interesting.

The rest of Tuesday and Wednesday was spent studying for my History of Art test that is Thursday after school. As the bell rang for the end school on Wednesday I ran after my one friend who is in my class, just to make sure that I study the right things. Halfway into my prepared sentence she interrupts me and tells me that we’re not writing tomorrow. I stop and frown.
“Por qué no?” (Why not?)
“No lo sé, pero es el miercoles.” (I don’t know, but it is Wednesday.)
“Proxima?” (Next?)
“Sí.”
I nearly jump out of my skin with happiness! I have a whole week extra in which to study! That meant an off afternoon, which just consists of me having a siesta and taking things slooooow, which I don’t get to to often, believe it or not.

As I get to school on Thursday and walk into class for the first period, I immediately sense that something is different. Then I remember – it’s photo day! The girls have more make up on and the clothes they have on is that tad bit nicer. I sigh and look at what I’m wearing. Not exactly photo shoot ready. And I only have mascara on! I shake my head, I probably won’t even be in a photo, what with this only being my three week anniversary of school. In second period everyone is called “downstairs” in some order I couldn’t figure out and as my one friend stood up to leave the classroom, she beckons to me. A little confused, but trying to hide it, I get up and follow her down the hallway and down the stairs. We join a few other girls who are already standing in a little circle, giggling and looking into a door. I see a flash and realise that that is the room in which the single photos are being taken. A moment later I am called. No I really am confused.

I am ushered into the room and met with a smiling secretary and a photographer. I am given an armless white school shirt that has a black tie attached to t. But the funny thing about this shirt is that it is already buttoned up, and it closes with Velcro at the back. The secretary puts this on me and then takes a black piece of cloth from a small pile and holds it for me to climb into – it’s a toga like frock. I am then put on a chair in front of a blue background. Lastly a banner with the schools name (or something) is draped over my left shoulder. The photographer then tells me that he is going to take five photos. In the first one I need to pull a straight face and as he continues I need to broaden my smile. This proves to be difficult as I can’t stop smiling after being dressed up and made sat. There are so many parallels to La Rochelle’s photo day last year, but at the same time, it’s nothing alike. I pull myself together and do as the photographer says. Afterwards I get to choose which photo I want. I walk out of the room and no more than three minutes could have passed. I think my friends mistook my continuous laughter for embarrassment but I was actually just so incredulous of the whole system they had going there.

After break we took the class photo (which is done outside on the netball (??) courts).

My weekend had a sweet beginning to it, because I could sleep an hour later on Friday because they wrote a test in Psychology first period and naturally I didn’t have to write it. But, as always, the weekend was where the action was.

Saturday was Joe’s (an exchange student from Kansas) birthday party at his house in Monte Principe, which is a neighbourhood that is southwest of where I live. Joe told us how to get there and which were the best buses to take and Google Maps helped me with the rest. So, after choir on Saturday morning, I walked to the train station and began the first leg of my journey. The second would be when I got off the train and took the bus to Joe’s house. Everything started well. I got off the train and after asking for directions went to stand at the right bus stop. And just to make doubly sure I was indeed at the right bus stop, I used the sun to determine in which direction the bus would come from and go in and I cross checked that with what I had seen on Google Maps. Everything coincided. It was then that I checked my phone for messages on our WhatsApp group before remembering that my phone didn’t work. It is something to do with the cell phone company having activated the wrong contract and now I couldn’t use my phone outside the house… but I wasn’t worried, I had Joe’s address and I knew which bus to take to get there. Plus, my Google Maps still worked offline. I waited for the bus.

When it finally came I got on and showed the driver my pink little ticket, not sure where to have it scanned. He shook his head and said something, but I didn’t need to understand Spanish to know that my ticket wasn’t valid for this bus (it’s not the usual one I always take). I also realised then that I didn’t have any cash on me because I had used the last of it on Joe’s present yesterday and hadn’t drawn anymore, thinking that I wasn’t going to need any. Haha, big mistake. I tried to ask if I could pay with a card, but the driver just shook his head again and I think he almost laughed. With my tail between my legs I had to get off the bus and make another plan.

I couldn’t contact my friends. I could go to the train station and buy the right ticket… except I didn’t know which was the right one. I approached an elderly man standing nearby and asked him where the nearest bank was. He pointed and I saw that it was luckily not to far. Whew, luckily! Now I could draw some money and just buy a ticket when I got on the bus. I put my card in and requested to draw 20€. Request denied. I frown. I try again. And again. And again. Somewhere along the line I remember looking up and saying, “Please God, come on.” I tried again but I still couldn’t draw money. I sighed. I literally only need some cash. And of course the branch was closed, so I couldn’t ask for help there. I started going into shops and asked if I could draw money from the till with my card. Everyone apologetically shook their heads, unable to help me. I then asked someone if there was another bank somewhere near and he pointed me in another direction. I looked at my watch. I was very fast becoming very late for the party. Nothing I could do. If this didn’t work I would have to go back home.

Before I started walking in the direction of where the man had pointed I decided to check my purse on last time. Maybe there was some spare change somewhere. And that’s when the first miracle happened. There, in my purse, in all it’s glory, was a 5€ note . Enough to get me on the bus and back. This was not possible. I couldn’t remember putting this here, or receiving it as change. But that didn’t matter now. I promptly made my way back to the bus stop and once again continued waiting for the bus, again. Before long (actually, it was quite some time) the right one came and I got on, bought the right ticket and took a seat. I wasn’t sure where to get off, but I knew it was a 10-15 minute drive before the stop. I also asked the lady sitting next to me and when the time came, she told me where to get off.

As I was standing next to the road with the bus driving off it was time to face my next challenge. How to get to Joe’s house. I had the address, but if my Maps didn’t work I was kinda stuck. I started walking again, using the sun’s point in the sky (I kid you not) to continue walking in a westerly direction. I remember Joe saying we have to go through a little park, so when I got to one I knew I was heading in the right direction. I took my phone out, put my GPS on and put in his address. And there it was! My GPS was picked up and I could see where I had to go. But then, as I began to approach the house I remembered searching the address the night before and getting four different results – in Madrid alone. Suddenly I was afraid that this was the wrong house. I stopped in front of the house… and rang the doorbell. Someone answered and I explained who I was.

The gate opened.

I couldn’t believe it. I was here! As the door opened and I was showed in, I was told that I was very early. It took me a moment to understand, but when I figured it out, I realised that I had read the times on the messages wrong. It had said 1:50 and I read it as 10 to one! So, it was actually a blessing in disguise, because if I had been “on time”, I would have been very late. And then, the second miracle of the day. After I had explained my story, Joe asked which bus I had taken. I told him and he just frowned saying that it wasn’t possible, because that bus only came by his house every hour, and that the time I had taken it didn’t coincide with its usual time. I really couldn’t be less bothered by buses and times and why and why not. All I know is that I got there in one piece and that God did indeed answer my the quick prayer I had shot up.

The party turned out to be great, even though I once again looked like the village Eskimo, with multiple layers of clothes worn and a blanket wrapped around my waste and I had to take over the BBQ’ing, seeing as Nate was letting everything burn. I told him it was because he had started the fire with ethanol (or somesort of alcohol) and not with blitz(briquettes), like we do in South Africa. In the end everything was edible and no one went hungry.

We left at 6 for Madrid just to walk around a bit and I got home (safely, without a hiccup) around nine, which, according to my friends, is very early. At least I got a good night’s sleep.

Sunday was fun day with the family, as we went to Queca’s parents for lunch, and then I went to my first Catholic mass. The little church was so full my the time we got there, I had to stand the whole service! Afterwards there were some snacks and I got to meet some of Maria and Christina’s friends. I also saw Blanca (with whom I went

shopping that one time) again.

We only got home at 10 or 11 that night. So much for my plans of a quiet Sunday afternoon! But what can you say, this is the exchange life!