Lost in Spain (Part 1)
by Little Wonder

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'Sometimes you have to go halfway

around the world to come full circle,

everyone wants to be found'

                   - from 'Lost in translation'

 

So there I was sitting at the Barcelona airport, waiting for my luggage. It struck me that nobody around me was speaking English but I figured, no biggy, someone at the information desk is bound to speak a little.


While I was getting my stuff, I noticed a guy, youngish looking, shorter than me, that looked as lost as I felt. A gut feeling was telling me to go talk to him, but instead I turned and went to find the information desk to figure out how to catch the train to Zaragoza.


Surprisingly, at the information desk I was told the train station was just a 5 minute walk. Hmm, thought that a bit strange since I read on-line that it wasn’t actually that close.


Got to the train station only to realize it was the metro. Tried speaking English again. No luck. So, I figured, maybe I should start speaking Italian and just throw in a few Spanish words I picked up from the Spanish soaps…and  - HELLO! -  I was getting through to people! Well, I got my metro ticket.

So got on the train and - guess what?! - I sat down right next to the confused guy from the airport. Got my big map out and was hoping I would get some sense of direction from it. Of course, nada. So I asked the confused guy if he knew how to get to the central train station. He had no idea (even though he was going there too). He thought I was Spanish and he was going to ask ME for directions! AAHHH! Finally, at the last moment, some Americans shouted out: " This is where you need to get out!" Well, lah-de-dah!


So we got out and I asked him where exactly he was going. Yup, you guessed it right,  he was going to Zaragoza, too. Not only that, but he was going to the same conference as me!


After figuring out the complex system of buying a ticket (all tickets sold out, except first class) and figuring out which way to go, we were on the right train. Now, let me tell you about traveling first class on a train. You get the champagne, juice, itsy bitsy meal, snacks, and every 5 minutes you are presented with something new to make your trip more enjoyable (they could have thrown in a massage, though)!

 

4 hours later, we were in Zaragoza. First impressions? Well, as I got outside of the building I had this huge question mark floating over my head signifying: where was I? This ultra modern building, the train station, was planted in the middle of nowhere. Vegas here I come! I naively thought that I could walk to my hotel; how, where??? Later I found out that it’s not such a long walk after all. It’s like they purposely made this train station to look like an abandoned settlement so that we -  innocent travelers - can be deceived into thinking that civilization is nowhere near, while it's just 'round the corner… and to be conceived of easily - only after we board the taxi. GET IT?!


Yeah, well, so my new friend "A" and I got in a taxi and  told the driver to take us to two different addresses. He couldn’t get it so I showed him the destinations on the map, repeated  the name of my hotel, even motioned and pointed to A while saying he was going to another hotel, but NO, this guy was just not getting it! With all my extensive waving and gesturing and Spanish soap lingo, I was still not getting through. In the end, we gave up. First one hotel, then the other. . .  that he could understand! Oh well…

The next day the conference started. I was refreshed and ready to take in at least some of this new info. So, with an open mind and pen in hand and clean notebook in front of me, I awaited the presentations to start. And they did. Sure, yes, I could hear words coming out of the mouth of the first speaker, but in what language? Looked over the agenda - everything was in English:  the topics, names of the speakers (this one was Japanese). I tried harder. Some while later, and not without great difficulty and a Jedi-like focus, I discerned it was English. Oh well, the guy seemed like a nice guy, made a few jokes ... (he was laughing, so I guessed those were jokes).

Next presentation came. This time it was a Korean guy.  Same story, except this time at least he used PowerPoint! Even so,  I was lost in translation all right! What baffles me is that at the end of these presentations some people were actually asking questions… So was it me, or ... ?? Later it got better. I actually enjoyed listening to what people had to say, though some never reached a conclusive point!

The late afternoons were free, which meant a great opportunity to check out some museums. You’d think that would be easy, right? Ever hear of siesta? A phenomenon of Spain, mainly, where people walk in the shade and take it easy most of the time? Why would anyone want to see any museums during siesta? That would just be a sin, right?!


After knocking on oh just about every museum door there was, we just gave up. The churches were closed, too. Well, all - except one! But there was an exhibit we didn’t want to miss for anything: "Cuba in pictures" or something or other was the name of it. Huge billboards of the exhibit were all over the place, yet the massive wooden doors of the building hosting it remained locked. There was this shady looking note posted on the door, announcing that the exhibit would open the next day, and tomorrow again it stated the next day, etc.. Then, one day, I guess they decided to spring it on us!


So in we went. But, no Cuban photos were to be seen. An exhibit of modern artwork was there, sure, and a lot of people came to see it. The subtitles - mind you, all written in Spanish (no surprises there) - were supposed to give us a clue of what we were looking at and, for the reasons beyond me, I actually understood what they read. It was as if my third eye popped out of my forehead and decided to provide me with the appropriate, much needed, insights.

On the top floor we finally found what we actually came for – the Cuban images. A whole handful of them. That, my friends, is what I call good marketing! So we were expecting one exhibit but, being where we were - in Spain, we should have known to expect something completely different!

That actually reminds me of the special dinner the organizers of the conference decided to treat us with. Yes, we were all saving ourselves for the big dinner, we were all there and ready to impress, we all walked into the dinning area ... just to see ... a multitude of round tables with no chairs. My feet were already killing me in the high heels (I wear once a year when I have to play a part of good hostess or cat-woman), and I knew this was gonna be a long night.

 

The head organizer decided to greet us - nice and loud - and grabbed the mike. To put it plainly, this is what the guy said: "Dear guests, we have brought you here to have a great time…blah, blah, blah , ... As you can see, there are no chairs. Why?, you ask yourselves? We want you to network. So, eat! Drink! And network!" Just in case we didn’t quite get it, he decided to scream out again: "EAT! DRINK! AND NETWORK!!!" OK, we got it. Then they started bringing out those tinny canapés. I just couldn’t believe it! I was saving myself for that?? I guess they wanted us to drink!, drink!, and network!


Delicacies aside,  to network I did try, but new difficulties emerged: "A" was on me like white on rice. Everywhere I turned - and I mean everywhere -  his shinny little face showed up. Felt like an anchor hanging onto me. Don’t get me wrong, he was a great guy and all, but this girl needed to meet more people, see some variety. The last thing I needed was to be anchored in one spot with nothing on the horizon. So I told him to go meet some people. But, his puppy-dog-like-eyes just wouldn’t give me a break! Oh, well.  Being a natural born Samaritan ever since I could walk and talk, even though it never got me anything but trouble (I always ended up bringing home people in distress), I just gave in and let him tag along - all the time - till the day he left Zaragoza.


But I did get my variety, eventually ….

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

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