Song of the Day: Waves – Dean Lewis
As I said yesterday, I might take the train to León today. However, that plan didn’t go as smooth as I would have hoped for. We were given a ticket as usual and boarded the first train to León early in the morning. Only, as we had just taken our seat, the most angry Spaniard approached us. He yelled at me, saying I couldn’t be on this train. I explained to him that I had a ticket as well as an email from Renfe that stated Maverick was allowed on their trains. The man refused to even look at it. He continued to yell at me and demand that I get off the train right that minute. He was the conductor and he would not be moving this train with me on it. I had and still have not to this day encountered a more rude person in my life. Fighting back tears, I disembarked from the train with Maverick and it promptly took off while I sat on a bench outside the station and cried.
I’m tired. Exhausted really, mentally and physically. I’m tired of being turned away time and time again when I had done everything in my power to ensure I would be allowed. I’m tired of being treated poorly just for having a dog, as if he’s looked at like he might lunge and attack at any moment. I’m tired of being here to be honest and don’t know what to do. It’s Maverick’s first birthday tomorrow and I can’t help but wonder if he would be happier somewhere else. If we had just stayed home and hiked the White Mountains, would he be happier? He wouldn’t be getting skinnier and skinnier by the day, that’s for sure. Would I be happier? I wouldn’t be worrying about Maverick’s weight, or his feet, or if he was overheating. I wouldn’t be worried about if I had somewhere to sleep for the night, or if I had enough water, or if it would pour rain and thunder if we set up a tent for the night.
The man at the ticket counter for the train company saw me sobbing out there and called me in. He asked what had happened and I did my best to explain. He told me that the conductor technically has that right to kick us off, despite my letter of approval for Maverick to ride on Renfe. As each train is under the conductor’s discretion he can do that. But he issued me a new ticket for the next train to León that would be leaving at 2 and he said we would hope that worked out okay.
So I walked back into town, found a cafe to sit at, and ordered some risotto while we sat outside. And I cried. I cried all the way from 8:30 to 1:30 I think. I cried on the sidewalk while people walked passed and sent me strange looks. I cried when when pilgrims started arriving in Sahagún on their way through town. I cried even as a big man from Germany we had met at the albergue in Boadilla came to sit at my table and asked what was wrong and stayed with me, letting me cry on his shoulder for far too long.
The second train let us on without an issue. No one stopped us. It was so full there were no seats and so we stood like vagabonds in the last car, crammed in with about four other young Spaniards who were heading into the city. I sat cross-legged with my eyes down, waiting to hear the announcement the get off.
Today, I have no photos from León for you even though we did eventually make it here. I was exhausted from crying all day with scratchy eyes, found some food, and checked into a hostal that allowed Maverick without even really taking in the city. I dragged myself back out to search for a pet store to buy him food at because apparently pet stores aren’t a thing in this country and it is so frustratingly hard to find them here. We walked 5 km around the city just to get a bag of food. Which ended up just being in a commercial shopping center, so nothing too interesting in terms of the old city. And then I collapsed back into our room and haven’t left again. I haven’t taken in this gorgeous new corner of the world I’ve found myself in today. Haven’t seen the cathedral that inspires so many. Couldn’t even get back up to get something for dinner or to even write in my own personal journal for today.
See, I had foolishly been thinking that I had beat depression. That this walk was a show of me beating it. The reality today is, sometimes depression wins. Even on a journey of a lifetime, sometimes it still wins.