Day 15 and 16 – rosemary and scams

I’m sat in Seville in a cafe just outside the famous castle. That is my next stop.

It has been an eventful 24 hours.

I had an easy flight, simple arrival apart from a slightly over friendly Tunisian man who scared me a little. He was sat next to me on the plane – 30s, tall, smelled good, polite – and he told me that he lived in Seville but had just had a little holiday. When I had got on the plane I had seen him talking to a woman and children, putting suitcases into the baggage for them. I assumed that he was husband and had ended up sitting alone.

As the plane stopped he gallantly helped me with my case. As we stood waiting to get off, he asked me if I had a hotel booked and when I was flying home.

He then started to have a conversation in Spanish on his phone and I caught the word ‘English’ and the name of my hotel. Alarms went off.

As I stepped off the plane, I stopped to secure my bags and noticed that he was now alone, not with the mother and children. He walked ahead of me and we walked into the terminal. As we wove through the bollards towards passport control, he gave me a thumbs up. I noticed he continued to look at me. I admit, I was slightly freaked out by this point. He was in front of me in the queue, probably 6 or 7 people. I saw him turn, look at me, and then approach me, asking if I was OK. I replied that I was, thank you, and he returned to his place.

He turned out to be just a gentleman. Not lurking outside the airport or my hotel as my imagination dictated.

I can perhaps blame this for then missing my bus stop. Ironically, I had changed hotels to be close to the airport on a straight bus run. By the time I had realised and attempted to speak to a number of other passengers, I was about a 30 minute walk from my hotel.

It was scorching hot, I was alone (the Spaniards were in siesta), I don’t speak Spanish and I had little idea where I was.

Eventually I arrived at the hotel and to my room. After a chat with Wildcard and a shower, I attempted to get the bus into the city but failed. I walked back to the hotel, hot and sad and wishing I was with Wildcard.

This morning, I haven’t faired much better.

The taxi came late. I arrived at the airport for my covid test and discovered three things:

  • You didn’t need to book the test. I could have come at any point.
  • I didn’t need the expensive and time consuming PCR and could have had the rapid test.
  • Spanish nurses are evil. I swear she was trying to kill me.
  • Oh, and I had booked the test for the day before. Luckily, the handsome white coat clad male sorted it.

After surviving being impaled by a covid testing stick, I then struggled to find my way out of the airport to the ill-fated city bus. I spoke to two security guards who didn’t speak English, was sent to a post box and then eventually was saved by a good citizen who happened to speak excellent English.

A bus ride and google led walk later and I’m here.

Apart from being scammed by a Spanish gypsy woman who offered my rosemary, read my palm in Spanish and then wanted €10 – she got €5 – I have managed to find my way around ok, have eaten a delicious cheese and avocado toast which I was assured was gluten free and am about to go and look at the castle.

I should be proud of myself and invigorated. But all I want is to be back with him. He has just called and I could have cried. Again. I just wanted to be with him. Oh well.

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