Valencia Trip- Use the Metro at your own peril!
Well, I have once again returned to travel. With a trip to New York earlier this year that didn’t rate high on the ‘travel chaos’ scale, it had to happen. Yes, the chaos that usually surrounds my travel plans returned! Take one woman and add a power chair and assistants and you get chaos!
It was meant to be a simple trip to Valencia; a few days break with my mum. We were met by the delayed sign on departures and don’t you know things almost always go awry when you see that sign.
After our delay and a good bit into my newly purchased airport book (Marian Keyes, Anybody out there) we were finally on our way to Valencia. A thought struck me mid air, I hadn’t brought a map with me and while I had been learning Spanish for a few months, it never stuck me to learn handy catch phrases- like I am lost! A work colleague had given me directions via public bus and had told me they were wheelchair accessible so I was quietly confident that we would find our way to our lovely 5 star hotel.
Our delay meant that we arrived late and just in time to catch the last bus which was dilemma numero uno! We were meant to catch a connecting one! After numerous attempts by a lovely Spanish bus driver to parallel park the bus by the kerb so I could get on easy (as ramp was broken), we were off into the night, hurtling toward a city without any idea of where we were going.
In between holding on for dear life as the driver took corners like Michael Shumaker, a strategy formed in my mind to help us get to our hotel, it was a simple one and tried and tested many times- just ask! Spotting a friendly woman beside us who was smiling and taking the map out of bag with our hotel details, I thought bingo!
She came and sat beside us and it became evident quickly she had no English. So thanks to my Spanish teacher Sandy I launched into my pigeon Spanish. It occurred to me once I did that, this woman thought I understood and she launched into a ream of instructions/directions, which she consulted with the bus driver over. Many minutes later after finger pointing and gesturing madly – is it near, can we walk, how long will it take? It became obvious we were not going anywhere near our hotel.
The Spanish woman (Anna) hightailed us of the bus, taking our luggage and informed us, we will take the metro. This sounded like a simple practical solution and one that could work. Following this woman lugging our suitcases over a footbridge, we arrived at the metro elevator. I at this stage had called my trustee Spanish teacher to get her involved- and a three way conversation ensued between myself, sandy and Anna. We found our way down to the platform and waited patiently for the metro. I was getting much more creative with my limited Spanish as we chatted waiting for the metro.
Then out of the tunnel, the familiar universal lights of a metro, we bundled on with luggage and all said “Perfecto” in unison! Little did we know- what lay ahead. The start of dilemma numero dos! As we approached our stop at Alameda, the idea of this being the end of our journey was beginning to sink in and the idea of a nice hotel bed. The metro stopped and before we could open the door, it took off again; we were on our way to the next stop. Now anyone who has ever travelled with a wheelchair user will realise once something goes wrong a committee becomes involved, this night was no different. Anna started shouting in Spanish and everyone in the carriage became involved with the situation, suggesting emergency breaks etc. Amongst all the Spanish chatter, it was agreed, get of the next stop, cross over and catch the next metro back. We all nodded in agreement and at the next stop successfully got of the metro.
We began our search for the elevator that would bring us back up to find the elevator was out of order. Now my level of Spanish as I already mentioned is not high, but I could interpret the mutters coming out from our newfound friend. A mobile phone was whipped out and the management of the metro system were called. After sometime, Anna emerged from the phone call stating no problemo and it became obvious we were getting back on the next metro to go to the next stop. She had been given a guarantee that the elevator was working. Once again, we boarded the metro and successfully got of a stop later. Racing down to the place where the elevator was, we got in and it worked. Cheers went up from the three of us, and they repeated when we got the elevator back down on the other side of the platform. It struck me at that stage how in the middle of a crisis situation how one thing working out OK, can you make feel like it’s all good now…
We arrived back at the station we were meant to off got of at the first time to cheers from us all and at this stage nearly hugging with excitement! Anna ran on down the platform to find the elevator and she came back with a distraught look on her face. This didn’t need to be translated- elevator was out of order! To compound the situation we had just got off the last metro for the night so chances of metro hopping again were non -existent!
At this stage, we had resigned ourselves to staying there for the night, the thought ‘well at least its warm and I have a good book going through my mind’ – my mother’s thoughts included ‘ I am sure it will be fine if we can find some water!’
Sometime passed as we all looked up the flight of stairs (about 40 in total), they were accompanied by an escalator. Anna disappeared up them looking for assistance. She re-appeared with two security guards and she was whipping them into action, pointing, explaining. In the meantime she had called her friend who spoke English who talked to me- saying ‘Don’t worry Mary we will get you out of there’. Now, I have been in many situations before but this surpassed them all. It felt like a night with a cast of thousands involved.
But….they did get me out of there. One of the security men who would of put Vin Diesel to shame, took control and carted me over to the escalator. Now, one of the things I have never been curious about was using an escalator with a power chair. The signs emblazoned on the side of the moving stairs- showing no buggies etc caught my eye reaffirming my fears that this wasn’t a great idea. Before I could argue I was wrenched up and next thing was in motion. Within seconds I was at the top of the escalator with this huge security guard not even out of breath.
So is there where the story ends, well nearly. We had one more elevator to encounter- the elevator to freedom as we called it. Of course, you guessed correct it wasn’t working. Lucky enough within 10 minutes a man arrived with a key and we were free. We had spent 2.5 hours underground with a woman who had probably offered help thinking it would take 5 minutes. We finally arrived to our destination where Anna’s friends were waiting. There were hugs all around with everyone even though we were all strangers; we were united by this adventure. Anna bid us farewell to go and party and we checked in…..
Two days later, while enjoying the Spanish sunshine and taking a stroll, we hear frantic beeping of a horn, turning around, we witnessed Anna, arms waving, horn tooting as she made her way in the afternoon traffic…
It was meant to be a simple trip to Valencia; a few days break with my mum. We were met by the delayed sign on departures and don’t you know things almost always go awry when you see that sign.
After our delay and a good bit into my newly purchased airport book (Marian Keyes, Anybody out there) we were finally on our way to Valencia. A thought struck me mid air, I hadn’t brought a map with me and while I had been learning Spanish for a few months, it never stuck me to learn handy catch phrases- like I am lost! A work colleague had given me directions via public bus and had told me they were wheelchair accessible so I was quietly confident that we would find our way to our lovely 5 star hotel.
Our delay meant that we arrived late and just in time to catch the last bus which was dilemma numero uno! We were meant to catch a connecting one! After numerous attempts by a lovely Spanish bus driver to parallel park the bus by the kerb so I could get on easy (as ramp was broken), we were off into the night, hurtling toward a city without any idea of where we were going.
In between holding on for dear life as the driver took corners like Michael Shumaker, a strategy formed in my mind to help us get to our hotel, it was a simple one and tried and tested many times- just ask! Spotting a friendly woman beside us who was smiling and taking the map out of bag with our hotel details, I thought bingo!
She came and sat beside us and it became evident quickly she had no English. So thanks to my Spanish teacher Sandy I launched into my pigeon Spanish. It occurred to me once I did that, this woman thought I understood and she launched into a ream of instructions/directions, which she consulted with the bus driver over. Many minutes later after finger pointing and gesturing madly – is it near, can we walk, how long will it take? It became obvious we were not going anywhere near our hotel.
The Spanish woman (Anna) hightailed us of the bus, taking our luggage and informed us, we will take the metro. This sounded like a simple practical solution and one that could work. Following this woman lugging our suitcases over a footbridge, we arrived at the metro elevator. I at this stage had called my trustee Spanish teacher to get her involved- and a three way conversation ensued between myself, sandy and Anna. We found our way down to the platform and waited patiently for the metro. I was getting much more creative with my limited Spanish as we chatted waiting for the metro.
Then out of the tunnel, the familiar universal lights of a metro, we bundled on with luggage and all said “Perfecto” in unison! Little did we know- what lay ahead. The start of dilemma numero dos! As we approached our stop at Alameda, the idea of this being the end of our journey was beginning to sink in and the idea of a nice hotel bed. The metro stopped and before we could open the door, it took off again; we were on our way to the next stop. Now anyone who has ever travelled with a wheelchair user will realise once something goes wrong a committee becomes involved, this night was no different. Anna started shouting in Spanish and everyone in the carriage became involved with the situation, suggesting emergency breaks etc. Amongst all the Spanish chatter, it was agreed, get of the next stop, cross over and catch the next metro back. We all nodded in agreement and at the next stop successfully got of the metro.
We began our search for the elevator that would bring us back up to find the elevator was out of order. Now my level of Spanish as I already mentioned is not high, but I could interpret the mutters coming out from our newfound friend. A mobile phone was whipped out and the management of the metro system were called. After sometime, Anna emerged from the phone call stating no problemo and it became obvious we were getting back on the next metro to go to the next stop. She had been given a guarantee that the elevator was working. Once again, we boarded the metro and successfully got of a stop later. Racing down to the place where the elevator was, we got in and it worked. Cheers went up from the three of us, and they repeated when we got the elevator back down on the other side of the platform. It struck me at that stage how in the middle of a crisis situation how one thing working out OK, can you make feel like it’s all good now…
We arrived back at the station we were meant to off got of at the first time to cheers from us all and at this stage nearly hugging with excitement! Anna ran on down the platform to find the elevator and she came back with a distraught look on her face. This didn’t need to be translated- elevator was out of order! To compound the situation we had just got off the last metro for the night so chances of metro hopping again were non -existent!
At this stage, we had resigned ourselves to staying there for the night, the thought ‘well at least its warm and I have a good book going through my mind’ – my mother’s thoughts included ‘ I am sure it will be fine if we can find some water!’
Sometime passed as we all looked up the flight of stairs (about 40 in total), they were accompanied by an escalator. Anna disappeared up them looking for assistance. She re-appeared with two security guards and she was whipping them into action, pointing, explaining. In the meantime she had called her friend who spoke English who talked to me- saying ‘Don’t worry Mary we will get you out of there’. Now, I have been in many situations before but this surpassed them all. It felt like a night with a cast of thousands involved.
But….they did get me out of there. One of the security men who would of put Vin Diesel to shame, took control and carted me over to the escalator. Now, one of the things I have never been curious about was using an escalator with a power chair. The signs emblazoned on the side of the moving stairs- showing no buggies etc caught my eye reaffirming my fears that this wasn’t a great idea. Before I could argue I was wrenched up and next thing was in motion. Within seconds I was at the top of the escalator with this huge security guard not even out of breath.
So is there where the story ends, well nearly. We had one more elevator to encounter- the elevator to freedom as we called it. Of course, you guessed correct it wasn’t working. Lucky enough within 10 minutes a man arrived with a key and we were free. We had spent 2.5 hours underground with a woman who had probably offered help thinking it would take 5 minutes. We finally arrived to our destination where Anna’s friends were waiting. There were hugs all around with everyone even though we were all strangers; we were united by this adventure. Anna bid us farewell to go and party and we checked in…..
Two days later, while enjoying the Spanish sunshine and taking a stroll, we hear frantic beeping of a horn, turning around, we witnessed Anna, arms waving, horn tooting as she made her way in the afternoon traffic…
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