For the past few months a friend of mine has been doing "disconnect Wednesdays". He turns off his phone and Internet connection at 5pm for one evening each week, and does things for himself offline and away from others.
Although I hadn't planned to "disconnect" while away, I knew I wasn't going to bring my laptop, and I had been a fan of this forced disconnect concept since I'd heard about it. When I realized that I didn't have any guide books or addresses for hosts, and only a vague idea of my flight times, I began to look at being incommunicado as a bit of a challenge too.
Texting was absolutely necessary if we wanted to see Emma in Valencia, which I did. I also had mobile numbers for Aaron and Bruce, who I was hoping to stay with in Portugal and Madrid. And so I decided on my own disconnect parameter... texting only. Complicated slightly by the fact that I had 10 days and no phone charger.
We'd agreed that I'd meet Jimmy at my gate, and so I did my best to stay put (my best effort involved staying (mostly) within the walls of terminal three - wandering from gate to gate, investigating the cost of toothpaste, going to the ATM, confirming that toothpaste at the airport really did cost 5 Euros, buying chewing gum instead, wandering from gate to gate, checking upstairs to ensure the lady at the information desk wasn't lying about the fact that there isn't an Iberia office in that terminal, wandering from gate to gate, strolling around outside with my eyes peeled, going back to my gate, and then a different gate...).
Jimmy's plane had been scheduled to land 10 minutes before mine, and after nearly an hour, I started to wonder exactly how and if I might find him, as we'd already established his phone wouldn't be funcionando. Of course I didn't have his itinerary. Or flight number. Or exact airline, per se. From what I could remember, and communicate to little miss information desk, I was able to deduce that the plane had likely landed, however I'd have to go all the way to Terminal four (which they've strategically placed on pretty much the other side of Madrid from the rest of the airport) in order to find out if he was even on the flight.
Just as I thought I might have to check my email or take a bus to the other terminal, he appeared!
From the airport we set off to find our way to Valencia. At the train station they laughed at us for even asking about tickets to Valencia. We got the picture when she told us there weren't tickets for today, tomorrow, Saturday or any day until next week. We got a similar reaction when we inquired about hiring a car.
So we got directions to the bus station and as Jimmy navigated us through Madrid's very comprehensive Metro, we discussed hitch-hiking... Both of us secretly began hoping that there would be no bus tickets either.
I realized that all of this running around and chasing tickets would have felt like a bit much without Jimmy there (having suffered through even less of an ordeal two weeks prior in Switzerland), and although we were both exhausted we agreed again that we made pretty rad travel buddies.
In response to news reports of no buses or trains to Valencia, Emma had been very busy reassuring her friends, and herself, that Jimmy and I were resourceful travellers who would find a way no matter what obstacles the gods of public transport launched at us.
I thought it was hilarious when I texted Em to say - "We can't get there, can you come to Madrid?" (she'd been talking about Fallas and how much I _had_ to come to Valencia for THIS WEEKEND for about 360 days). The text did elicit mild panic from our usually tres relaxed third partner in crime and she called immediately. New travel parameters or no, I wasn't interested in finding out how much my Canadian mobile phone company might demand from me if I answered a phone call in Europe and so I texted again to tell her what time our bus would be in.
To be fair I myself was relieved, as I remembered an occasion or two where I'd learned first-hand that the world doesn't always revolve around those of us who refuse to plan. Luckily this pilgrimage was a go.
On the bus Jimmy slept as I read and sang along to the cheesy music our bus was playing. Then for the last hour or so, amid random spurts of jumping up and down in my seat, Jimmy took me back to summer camp and other childhood days by patiently walking me through some an origami coin box and foxhound.
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