It's just a matter of WHEELS

Today was "transportation scouting mission" day.  Unable to figure out the timetable for the local bus at the end of my street, I decided to take a walk down there and wait for it...because I needed to see what time it actually arrived.  This is the bus that is supposed to take me into Fuengirola, the neighboring town where I can catch my train to other places.  You see, I didn't research the transportation part of my trip as well as I should have from Calahonda.  So, I must ride a bus to the next town, take a train to Malaga María Zambrano station and from there --- a larger train to everywhere else.  But, I learned today it is easier on paper than on the road.
Which wheels should I choose?? Bus, Train or car??

I met a woman who was also waiting for the local bus while I was taking a photo of the timetable secured to the pole.  From Norway, her English was good, so I asked her how it worked?  She said she'd never ridden it before (oh boy).  When the bus came around the corner, I asked the driver if it went to Fuengirola?  He nodded yes.  The Norwegian lady got on and I thought...hmmm. Maybe I should see how this works.  So, I got on.  It cost me a whole 1,55 euros. (the pennies are so cute...tiny little things that are hard to hold in my hand).

Once on the little bus, I started to wonder when I could get off and where I'd catch it back home again.  A little impulsive this time, right?  Well, she got off half way and I stayed on until he said, "last stop."  Uh-oh.  I had to get off.  I was in the town of Fuengirola.  He said the next bus taking me back to Calahonda was at five o'clock.  It was now two fifteen.  I stood in front of a car dealership, watched the bus drive away and tried to swallow my spit.  Now what?

Okay...I would start walking but I decided to play it smart (finally).  I pulled out my little notebook and wrote the street names down, cafe names along the way, cross streets and when street names changed.  And they did that a lot.  All the way down Avenue de Miramar to a dead end.  Right on Calle Condesa for three blocks.  I saw a Tabaco Mercado and went inside.
"Donde está el tren estación, por favor?"  Where is the train station.
He spoke English!  He walked me out to the sidewalk, pointed to the roundabout, pointed to the Plaza de Toros (bull ring) and said follow the street through two stop lights.  Then he pointed both fingers to his eyes and said, "you will see it."

Not quite trusting it all, I continued to stop every few feet and write down street names when they changed as well as photos along the way.  I saw the Ayuntamiento de Fuengirola, pizza shops, grocers, businesses lined up like dominos.  And then I saw the Biblioteca (library).  After seeing so many stone buildings, marble steps and rock sidewalks, I found it a surprise to see the library steps were made out of heavily-bolted wooden railroad ties. When I finally got through two traffic lights, I saw a big grocery store and an escalator down into the ground.  No train.

Pre-planning for my trip home, I knew I needed 1,55 euros again, so into the store I went.  I have never wandered around a grocery store before wondering what to buy to get change.  But once I had a bag of nuts, pretzels and a bottle of water, I was ready.  Up to the counter, I had already prepared my where is the train question.

The woman laughed at me and pointed to the escalators that went into the dark subterranean abyss outside the door.  Ah, that's why the giant letters, FUENGIROLA, was painted on the roof...  Back in business then!  I went down, looked around and up again.  It had taken me twenty minutes or more to walk from the bus stop to the train.  How on earth was I going to manage my luggage on the bus, walk that length of streets and into the train every time I wanted to go on a day trip?

I went over to a taxi driver and asked what he charged to drive to Calahonda?  About $25 one way.
What a dilemma.  Could I keep the car?  Did I want to?  I'd have to put it into reverse a few times...could I do it?  It wasn't in my budget certainly.  Mulling it over, I opened my nuts.  What else could I do?  I found a bench on a quiet street and sat under a shade tree.  I watched cars drive by, women in high heels I would never be able to balance myself on, teenagers in shorts with legs already tan.  And I ate my nuts.  Oh dear.

Ok, enough of poor me, I thought.  I felt like Gretel since I'd drawn a map of streets and cafes along the way like crumbs to help me get back to the bus stop, so I pulled up my big girl pants and headed west.  After I found the spot, I sat on the bench bemused and way too early.  I'd passed a wine bar about a block away.  I looked at my watch and knew I had over an hour.  So, I backtracked, of course.

There was a table in the shade of an umbrella just waiting for me at the Cervesería - La Gamba (shrimp).  Almost immediately, a beautiful (muy guapo) Spanish man about thirty was beside me.  His bright smile reached his dark eyes.  I had found another character for Callie's 4th adventure! He had dark, curling hair near his ears and a neat, close-cropped dark beard.   Callie needs a few friends in Spain like him, I think.  I shall name him Javier and call him Javi, like in the book I just finished this morning, "The Return" about Spain.

When he delivered my cold glass of Tinto Verano, he whispered, "salud."  (to your health).  I was charmed.  When he returned a few minutes later with a plate that held a large slice of bread covered in chorizo and dribbled with garlic oil, I was in love.
Spanish music wafted from the inside of the bar.  "Gracias," I said clearly surprised.
"De nada," he answered (it is nothing).

I sipped my wine and looked around me.  An heladería (ice cream) shop was edged into the corner of a lavendería (washing place).  The bar sat at one of those roundabouts, so the cars went slow, quiet and I hardly noticed.  A woman with bright orange hair sat next to me whispering into her phone and she gently teased her tiny dog with her foot as he strained away on his leash.  It was a perfect spot to mull over my unfortunate transportation findings today.  Surely, there will be an answer.  I just had to chew on it awhile.  Afterward, I slipped inside the bar to pay for my wine and saw a wagon wheel I'd love to have on my wall.  Very unique.

At 4:45 I was back at the bus stop and a woman with purplish hair sat near me.  We started chatting right away and I loved her accent but I couldn't place it (as if I could).  She was from Sri Lanka, but had lived in the UK for twenty years.  What a mixture.  And what a wealth of information.  She told me there is another (larger) bus that can take me directly to the train station.  On the beautiful ride back along the Mediterranean Sea, she pointed out where I should ride the little local bus, get off and wait for the bigger bus and there!  I'd be at the train station.  More information to stuff inside my head.  She also invited me to the Wednesday morning market tomorrow.  Hmmmm...maybe that was what I needed to get my mind right.  Shopping.

But for tomorrow, Chloe arrives...my sweet little (6' tall) friend from Paris (and her boyfriend).  I'm going to DRIVE to Fuengirola early in the day, park the car near the train station and use my Gretel tactics with the mapping in my notebook to make sure I don't get lost.  They arrive at eight o'clock and then I get to drive all of us back to Calahonda in the dark...
Now THAT will be another adventure.  But I am determined to face the fear.
And on that note, I poured myself the last of my Tinto Verano, a perfect way to end my day.