Segovia

All I wanted was a bottle of water. Should you ever come to Spain, I recommend being neither thirsty, hungry, nor in need of medical treatment between the hours of two and five in the afternoon, because everything will be closed and no one will care. I ended up in Segovia today as I planned, which involved a harrowing experience trying to get a ticket around 9:30 in the morning for the train. The cercan¡a out of the city took about two hours to reach the town where the Romans built a huge aqueduct and the foundations of a castle which Walt Disney used as a model for Cinderella Castle in Disney World, the ALCAZAR (which is really just a fancy Arabic word for castle). The town is beautiful and reeks of history, and as such the entire thing has been placed under UN protection as a World Heritage Site. (It was a toss up whether or not I went to Segovia in the first place, because my school program will eventually take everyone on a four-day weekend trip back to Madrid and Segovia in October, but I figure I´ll just head to London or Morocco?) The real fun started when I tried to catch the train back to Madrid. I mistakenly assumed that the train would leave not long after arriving from Madrid, and had only memorized the schedule for arrivals into Segovia. Needless to say, I was about and hour and 40 minutes early for the train, and decided to get something to drink, since it was all of 100 degrees. About an hour later, after a trip through several residential areas with no businesses whatsoever and several business areas with no people whatsoever, it became painfully obvious that everyone was at home taking their siesta and not caring that I was now on the verge of collapse after exerting myself in the heat for a drink which I had only fleeting thoughts of getting in the first place because of my boredom. I walked past closed café‚ after restaurant after pharmacy (which are nothing like a CVS), and finally came upon a Brazilian barbecue where I sucked down a coke at a bar while being scrutinized by several regular patrons; I was thirstier than ever in about three minutes because of the sugar. Then I got to walk the five kilometers back to the station.

On the train home, an older señora sat next to me, about the time when I could no longer stave off taking a desperately-needed nap. Apparently she wasn't thrilled that I attempted to use her as a pillow, and quickly changed her seat. Arriving back in Madrid, I bought a four-Euro chicken salad at the Spanish equivalent of McDonald's and a huge package of cookies at El Corte Ingles, a department store/supermarket, and sat in my room popping Motrin for my bruises and sprains and cookies for my mental health while watching British sitcoms on my computer. I simply didn´t have the energy to wait until 10 at night when people start to think about heading to dinner.