Jensen Tries to Travel Solo

My journey to the farm was epically long and arduous (to say the least), and I'm going to recount its events Tucker Max - style (you'll see why soon).

Wednesday, June 24th
circa 3:30 pm: Alyssa, my mom and I pile into the car to go to the airport, after last-minute packing (obviously) and a brief Skype test to make sure my new account is working (it is, so Skype me! My username is jreckhow). My mom realizes I have brought a bottle of prescription pills with me (the remains of my wisdom teeth extraction meds) as I take one upon getting in the car. She tells me I will be arrested at the airport for bringing controlled substances onto the plane; I tell her I do not want to get an infection or to suffer from mouth pain while flying. I take the pills, as I have basically a full bottle of antibiotics left, but I'm kind of worried now.

4:30 - 4:50 pm: We circle through the Newark airport terminals three times, looking for where KLM is. After confirming three times that it is not at any of the terminals, I decide to check my flight information. KLM apparently partners with Delta. My mom is thrilled.

6:40pm: My first plane takes off from Newark. My plan is to sleep during this flight, since I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I decide to not take my medication, because my mouth isn't hurting. Two hours into the flight, and halfway through my first book, I realize that my legs are in unbelievable pain (probably from walking all over the city before I left doing last minute shopping) and I will probably never sleep again. I'm too afraid to take my meds now though, so I just sit and read and agonize. I decide Tucker Max is less than morally sound, but this book is hilarious and I love it. We arrive in Amsterdam around 8am the next day.

Thursday, June 24th
8am - 11am: I wander around the Amsterdam airport waiting for my layover. I consume lots of Stroopwaffels (one of the greatest foods ever made: two waffel cookie things with caramel goo inside) from Starbucks like I used to way back in the day when they still sold them at American Starbucks', and idly peruse all of the duty-free shops. My envy of Europe is restored (no explanation necessary). I finish the Tucker Max book. I loved it and recommend it to everyone, as long as you know what you're in for.

1pm: I realize I am at the wrong gate for my flight, after sitting there for two hours. I check the departure board to see where I am supposed to go. I do not see my flight, and panic because my flight has already started boarding, wherever it is. Someone helps me, and obviously my flight switched terminals and is now boarding 73292015703 miles away. I start running over, looking ridiculous because
1. my bag is more than overflowing due to the 3 books I purchased to read in Spain (I hope They Serve Beer in Hell, Eat Pray Love, and Three Cups of Tea), and my computer which never fits in the first place, but is now barely wedged in between the 7 books I am now carrying
and
2. have you ever seen me run.

1:05pm: I arrive at the new terminal. It was actually not that far away, and they haven't started boarding (slash don't start for another 15 minutes).

1:30 - 4:30pm: I fly from Amsterdam to Madrid. This may be my favorites flight of all time, as they served complimentary stroopwaffels as a snack.

SIDE NOTE: After my plane lands in Madrid, I have 7 hours to kill before I take a 9 hour bus from the airport to the town near the farm I am working at. 7 hours is a lot of time, so I was hoping I might be able to go into the city for a bit to explore instead of just sitting in the airport. I mentioned this in the car, and everyone freaked out because
1. there is not enough time
2. my luggage will get stolen and I will get lost and will probably die

4:30 - 5:30pm: I decide I'm going to try to go to Madrid anyway, because I have faith in myself and also know I will be pissed forever if I pass up the chance to see the city when I have plenty of time to do it. I find a locker to store my luggage in while I am gone, and head off to take the Metro into the city.

6:00pm: The Metro takes maybe 15 minutes, and I arrive much sooner that I thought I would. This is good - I can now spend more time in Madrid! Yay!

6:30pm: jk this is not good. I am having trouble entertaining myself in Madrid and am reluctant to spend more money here.

6:30 - 9pm: I wonder around aimlessly, having not done any research on Madrid and thus not knowing where I want to go. I see plazas and colorful buildings, and spend plenty of euros on gelatto and other food I don't need that I store for later. Since I don't really know what to do and am tired and bored, I start taking pictures of license plates. I like them.

9:15pm: I arrive back at the airport, legs exhausted from my fruitless trip to the city. I'm happy I went but wish it could have gone differently: I either did not go to the right places, or just expected the city to be different. I retrieve my bag, and head over to the terminal where my bus departs from.

9:45pm: After walking around the airport in circles looking for Terminal 4 (following ALL of the signs though), I give up. This terminal does not exist, and I should not have brought a bag this large.

9:50pm: After asking for help, I learn that Terminal 4 is the reject terminal of the airport, and is actually barely within the borders of the country. I have to take a bus to get there. Terminals 1, 2, and 3 are all next to each other, actually ATTACHED to each other, and certainly within walking distance of one another. But obviously Terminal 4 has to be as far away as possible.

9:57pm: I get to Terminal 4, and go wait for my bus at the bus stop.

10 - 11pm: I wait for my bus, and go up to the driver of every bus that arrives asking 1. is this my bus? and 2. do you know where my bus will arrive? Everyone says no. I quickly recruit two friendly people I meet to help me out because
1. they see I am about to cry and am obviously not succeeding
2. they work for a bus company so they should be able to help me
and 3. one of them speaks English

11- 12:30am: My bus does not come. A thunderstorm begins and escalates and does not end. I am wet and cold and sad and busless. My new friends help me by calling the bus company and arranging for me to take another bus the next morning from a different stop. They give me directions and wish me luck. I head back inside.

12:30 - 6am: I entertain myself in the Madrid airport for 5.5 hours. I am dirty and disgusting and tired. Instead of sleeping, I sit and read and drink lots of delicious Spanish coffee.

6am: The Metro opens again. I take it to the new bus stop. I am completely cracked out on way too much coffee and not enough sleep. And by not enough sleep I mean NO sleep.

6:15am: I arrive at the new bus stop. Problem: my bus leaves at 10am, and the train ride was supposed to be an hour and a half and obviously wasn't, so I now have 4 hours to kill. Good thing I am well rested and fully capable of staying awake and not missing my bus.

6:30am: I realize that my bag is covered in fresh plaster that I picked up while dragging it down the stairs at the train station. Picking it off is a joy. It smells rancid and of course everything I am wearing is black so I make a huge mess. But I already haven't showered in 2 days so it's no big deal really.

8:30am: A man waiting for the bus with me sees me falling asleep on my bag and asks if I want some coffee. Obviously I want some coffee, but I hadn't gotten any yet because I didn't see anywhere to get it from. My sleep-deprived brain decides it is a wise idea to follow this man.

8:50am: I finish my coffee and am restored from my zombie status. The man pays for my coffee and begins asking about my life. After learning that I am from New York and a student (the great decisions just keep on coming) he suggests we get married, because then it will be easier for me to get papers so I can travel all over Europe all the time. I laugh awkwardly and say I want to go back to look at the bus schedule. I am not about to miss a second bus.

9am: We are back downstairs. My creepy man friend asks me if I have any children. I say no, so he asks if I would like to make some children with him (in much cruder phrasing). Apparently he meant right then and there at the bus station, because he proceeds to try to kiss me.

9:01am: NO. Adios senor. I proceed to the other end of the station and reflect on my shrewd decision making skills.

9:30am: I check the bus boards for my bus, because it should be up at this point and I'm obviously panicked about missing it. It isn't there. WTF is this.

9:45am: After frantically pacing the station and asking everyone for help (unsuccessfully), I realize that my bus should be coming soon and is indeed on the board, but under a pseudonym so I would never find it. But I did, and am now waiting patiently at the stop.

9:50am: The bus arrives. I confirm that it is the correct bus, and proceed to explain to the driver in pathetically butchered Spanish that I missed my bus last night but Icalledthecompanyandtheysaiditwasokformetojustcomeandtakethisbustoday. He says uhh..ok and puts me off to the side. After everyone else is on the bus, he lets me get on in an empty seat. SUCCESS!! NOPE. Two seconds later, he pulls me off. My seat was reserved by a latecomer. It's ok though, because there are like 7 more empty seats. NOPE. A wave of latecomers show up, all with reservations. My seats quickly fill up. Eventually everyone has arrived, and luckily enough there is ONE EMPTY SEAT LEFT! I am so unbelievably relieved. I climb up and immediately pass out. Everything is great again.

5:30pm: I arrive in Huercal-Overa, where I meet my host madre Lola and her daughter Candela. I am exhausted and dirty and smelly but I could not be happier to be here. After more than three full days of travel, 0 showers, 0 teeth-brushing events, and 0 changes of clothes, I FINALLY MADE IT!