As planned, Amy and I got the hell out of dodge on Saturday morning, turns out she had a night with drunk Spaniards that puts mine to shame, so needless to say we were done. We didn't look back as we left the hippies and caught a mini bus to the main part of town to begin our walk to the train station and find a cup of coffee. After only getting lost for a tiny bit we made it to the station with plenty of time to buy our ticket for Seville and arrange our ticket on the 19th for a sleeper train to Paris. Booking the couchette online proved to be a nightmare so we were really in good spirits when it all went according to plan at the station -- a refreshing change in our trip and something that we were sure was a sign of good things to come.
Not so. Three hours later, as we got off the train, I made eye contact with a bow-legged, platinum-haired whore-y (there's no other way to say it) looking girl as she exited our car and I waited for Amy to catch up with me. Something about the exchange and her general appearance as she got on the train about halfway though the journey left me with a bad feeling. Amy stepped off and I asked her if she had everything, specifically, her camera. It had been out during the ride and for some reason it's what I thought of at that moment. Of course, Amy looked at me like I was crazy since she had just put it in her bag moments before, but she humored me.
It wasn't there.
It's easy to make accusations or stereotype, but seeing as there were very few people in our car and most were either fellow foreigners or older couples too busy making out, we're quite confident it was her who picked it from Amy's purse. And she's a bow-legged, whore-y looking gypsy so you make assumptions.
After having to buck up about the camera, we left to find our hotel and hopefully some better luck. And a new attitude about Spain.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment