AN ADVENTURE WITH SANDRINA

The train station in Requejada was unmanned. If you had questions, you could speak into a box on the wall of the station, and find out the schedule, how to pay, and where the train ran. Unfortunately for me, the train did not run to Santillana, but the helpful disembodied voice told me that I could take the train to Torrelavega, some miles out of the way, and catch a bus there. I didn't want to stay in industrial Requejada, though I do wish I'd taken a picture of the amazing set up there.

As I sat and waited for the train, an incredibly fit and stylish couple appeared. They seemed to be having some kind of a tiff. Eventually, the man walked on and the woman sat down. She was gorgeous, curvy, and expensively attired; and very nice! She was Sandrina from Marseilles, and in her opinion, 25 km was quite enough to walk. Her husband was going to do that whole 44km. He looked as if that would be no problem, I thought. Sitting next to her polished yet casual elegance, I found it hard to believe we were the same species, let alone the same gender. For all that, she was very natural and fun to talk to.

I explained to Sandrina that we had to go to Torrelavega and then take a bus. There was no place on the train to pay for a ticket. This had happened to me before with no problem. I got on, I got off, and no-one cared. But Torrelavega was some kind of terminus where all debts must be paid, so we had duck under the cordons once we got to the station, go to the ticket window, and buy a ticket from Requejada to Torrelavega. Then, we had to duck back under the cordon and fire our tickets into the automated turnstile to leave the station. Sandrina had no change, so I bought her ticket to freedom. When we finally determined what bus we had to take; an adventure in itself, involving three bus lines, a hardware store, two Argentinian cosmetics saleswomen, the local police, a dank, dark waiting room, unnecessary hills, and rain, Sandrina returned the favour. Soon we were travelling through lovely hills (much nicer from a bus than on the tarmac) on our way to what has been called the loveliest village in all of Spain.