A Traveller's tales.

Travelling to London in the so-called quiet zone of the train. This works fine for preventing people making noisy phone calls and making a row with their electronic gadgets. What it does not do is legislate for a group of young women talking nineteen to the dozen at the top of their voices.

I was considering reminding them of the quiet status of the coach. And then they were joined at Stockport by a friend who seemingly had a seat booked in another coach but wanted to sit with her friends. She asked if she could sit in the seat next to mine. I pointed out that it was reserved, and therefore she might have to move at some point. Then another passenger came up and said that that seat was actually hers but she had chosen to sit further down the carriage in unreserved seats. And she reminded them that this was the quiet coach! Hurray! It made little difference. Especially as when their friend arrived, she brought alcohol for all of them.

Finally the ticket inspector reminded them that this was a quiet coach! Listening to their not-so-quiet conversation, I gleaned that they were off for a weekend partying in London. The one who got on in Stockport had a case so big and obviously heavy that even her friends expressed surprise!

Here is from the noisy ladies: "As well as a quiet coach, they should have a party coach. If ever I get rich, I'll buy my own train and organise it!"

On the bus yesterday from Vigo to Porto to catch plane to Manchester we were quite amazed at how full it was. AUTNA, the bus company, had even laid on an extra vehicle. We had booked in advance so we were unconcerned about getting a seat but proved hard to find two seats together. At the last moment a British family group got on and walked up and down the bus looking to seat numbers to match their booking. Eventually we put them out of their puzzled misery by pointing out that the numbers really only serve to tell the company how many seats are booked. Even when all seats have numbers nobody takes any notice of them. This has always been the case as long as I have travelled around Spain.

On Wednesday we made a last minute decision to pop over to Pontevedra and have lunch with our friend Colin. We arrived at Urzaiz station in plenty of time but the queue to buy tickets was so long that we opted to follow the recommendation that kept coming over the public address system and had a go at buying our tickets from the automatic vending machines. We successfully put in the numbers of our tarjetas doradas, our over-65 discount cards, and followed all the instructions. When it came to paying for our tickets, the amount seemed higher than usual. Then we discovered that somehow we had bought four tickets. By then there was no time to ask at the ticket office so we scuttled off and caughte the train. After all, it was only a matter of €7.

On the train we decided to ask the ticket inspector about this. We explained our stupidity in using machines. His first reaction was to say we should go to the ticket office at Pontevedra and ask there. Not terribly helpful! After a few minutes, however, he came back and scrawled something on the unused tickets. So, arriving at Pontevedra we headed for the booking office. Another long queue awaited us and so we asked at the customer service desk. The haughty lady there indicated that we should join the queue and "comentar" with the assistant there. Another not very helpful moment!

Meanwhile, perhaps because so many people in the queue were mumbling and muttering, another assistant turned up. The one who was there already had spent about five minutes with each customer. Slowly, slowly, the second assistant ambled to his seat. Slowly slowly, he switched on his computer. Slowly, slowly, he sorted out all his equipment. And slowly, slowly, our turn came around. Then everything went into double speed. I was half way through explaining what had happened when he nodded, smiled, and handed us the money we had paid for our unused tickets. Amazing!

Such are the things that happen to this intrepid traveller!