I arrived back in Madrid, Spain, today and then made my way back to Los Alcazares.
I made my way off of the plane after arriving in Madrid and began walking through immigration. I checked which way to go with a security person. I didn't want to queue in the wrong line. I am a Spanish resident but a UK passport holder. She told me that I had to use the non-EU line but then opened up a separate line and took me straight through so I didn't have to queue. People certainly looked after me on this trip, and I was lucky to have all the help I had everywhere.
As I approached the baggage claim, I saw Gail waving at me. When I got to her, I realised that she had taken my case off of the revolving carousel for me and was now just waiting for her luggage. I sat down and waited, and when she had collected her luggage, we walked towards the exit before saying goodbye to each other. She was taking a flight back to Alicante, and I was supposed to catch a train back to Torre Pacheco.
I walked to the train helpdesk and asked to change my train as the one I was on wasn't for another six hours. I had to pay an extra €60 because the only seat available on the earlier train was in first class. They gave me a cheaper ticket in first class but didn't include food and drink. I asked which way to go, and the ticket seller just pointed behind me to an entrance to the train station.
I walked through to the train station and joined the only platform I seemed to have access to. I could see other platforms, but no way to get to them. There was no guidance to show what platform I was on and no guards to ask for help. As I wondered what to do, I saw an air hostess from the plane I was on and asked her if I was on the right platform. She explained that this was the right place and that I could get on any train as they all went to the central station I had to go to in Madrid.
A short time later, a train pulled in, and as I struggled to get my case on the train, a young man helped me get onto the train and to a seat. He asked where I was going, and I told him. He told me how many stops I had to go and told me to call him if I needed any help. He was Spanish but had lived for years in England whilst at college and spoke perfect English. As we arrived at the station where I had to change to my main train, the young man appeared again, carried my case off the train for me, and pointed out the way I had to go to the next train. He then got back on the train to continue his journey home. What a wonderful example of how kind people can be to each other he was.
I got myself a sandwich and a drink at the train station and was disgusted with it, it was dry, tasted horrible and for a ham sandwich and a can of coke, it cost me €20. I walked to the gate where my train was to depart, and as the guard checked my ticket, he told me I was at the wrong gate. I pointed out that the information above his head said I was at the right gate, but he told me that it was incorrect and pointed me to the correct gate. A short time later, breathless but happy to be on the correct train, I was sat in the first class section of the correct train.
The journey was comfortable, and my seat was great. I had plenty of legroom, and it felt like I was sitting in an oversized, easy recliner rather than a train seat. We hurtled along at over 330 km an hour in places, and I was sorry to get off in Murcia to change to a rickety old train for the last leg of the journey. I messaged my friend June to tell her my arrival time in Torre Pacheco, and when I got off the train, she was parked right outside the station waiting for me. It didn't take long for her to drive me home and drop me off at my apartment. I left my suitcase unpacked and went to bed straight away. I was tired and happy to be home after around 36 hours of travelling.