Day 1 again in Spain

As many of you know our family went to Italy and Croatia over the girls’ mid-term break. It was a marvelous trip, but I’m not the best travel writer. I’m sure Dee will chronicle the adventure in more depth and richer detail on her travel blog (Dee, where’s the post with all the great pics?!?). What I want to talk about is our challenge as we returned to Spain.

Our initial entry into Spain this past June was a bit of an adventure, to say the least. If you haven’t read the Day 1 blog post, I encourage you to click thru. It’s a funny story now in hindsight! That was our first “test” as a family. Well, upon our 2nd entry in Spain this week, it seems we were to be presented with another little pop quiz…

We were all waiting patiently in line to check-in at the Ryan Air desk in the Ciampino airport in Rome Italy. I was rifling through my messenger bag for our travel documents, when a pit in my stomach hit. Where is the parking ticket for our car that’s in the remote, long-term parking lot at the Valencia, Spain airport? I’m sure I brought it with me, but it’s nowhere to be found. Uh oh! Now the worry sets in.

We arrived in Valencia about 9pm. The whole family is tired, because we had travelled all day and night (we left Split, Croatia the previous evening on an overnight ferry, caught a taxi to the rental car agency in Ancona, Italy, rented a car, drove to Rome with a stop off in Tivoli for lunch, and then flew to Valencia…all in 24 hours).  Whew. Needless to say we were all worn out and ready to get “home” to Javea.

At this point I know I don’t have the parking ticket. But just in case I figure we should check the car. On our way to find the car, dragging our luggage and the tired girls, we couldn’t locate anything that looked like an information desk, or an office for the parking lot. It’s late. It’s a small regional airport, and things are shutting down. The parking lot is a good hike, and it’s completely deserted. Walking quickly we are accosted by a man claiming to have been robbed. Alarm bells are ringing in my head! Dark, isolated parking lot with no one around. We brush him off and tell him to find the police. It’s nerve racking. The adrenaline is now flowing in my veins.

We find the car, and of course there is no ticket in it, just as I had expected. How do we get the hell out of here? The girls are wired at this point, Grace is really scared, and the guy that was “robbed” is coming back at us again. Everyone get in the car, now!

We drove around the lot looking for help. I found someone repairing a gate. He spoke no English, so I was forced to use all of my rudamentary Spanish. No tengo mi tarjeta de parking. No temgo mi ticket para mi coche. Donde esta la officina? And a lot of other butchered phrases (mostly nouns with no verbs) trying to sort out my dillemma. He told me, I think, to drive to the gate and push the informacion button. Onward we go to have a completely useless “conversation” in Spanish over the speaker with some jokester sitting in an office who was clearly amused by our situation. Ha, ha, this is very funny bonehead! Back to the man repairing the gate, and I’ve got directions to go to the bottom of (debajo de, a word I just learned that day!) the short-term parking where there might be someone who can help. Hiking back, getting further assistance in Spanish from the taxi dispatcher in a small shed, we finally find an office with someone official. Further butchered Spanish to communicate our issue, and we pay our bill of 83 Euros, get a new ticket and head back to the car as fast as we can. Yes!

We are all safe and sound back in Javea now, having passed another test. Completely in Spanish nonetheless. We are all learning how to deal with new, complex, scary situations. And each of us is gaining confidence and street smarts as we do it. I’m very proud of my family!