A short travellers tale of a cycle ride to Barcelona 2009
In 2009 I decided to cycle to Rome to see a friend and visit the city. It was my first major cycle ride abroad. Rather than do the 1200mile journey through France and Italy, I decided to take the cruise ferry from Portsmouth to Santander in northern Spain, then cycle east across northern Spain to Barcelona, catch a ferry across the Mediterranean to Italy into Rome.
I decided to follow close to the River Ebow that flows in roughly the right direction thinking the terrain would be flatter near a river and there might be cycle paths. Spain is a very hilly/mountainous country and it turned out to be impossible to stick close to the river. In fact, I hardly saw it. The ride was hard with many hills and I slept in a forest, in a field, on a camping site ( the only one I found ) and in someone's driveway. The days were hot and the nights were warm. It was a good ride and I helped myself to fresh fruit from the trees in the orchards whenever I felt like it, there was so much available. Between 2pm and 4pm in the afternoon, it was impossible to ride because the temperature was so hot. I often slept in the shade or went into an air-conditioned bar and sipped beer. I enjoyed the ride and although finding the right road was sometimes a problem. In the mornings I just headed towards the sun and I knew I was going east. At midday, I kept the sun on my right. My map was not really detailed enough and I had no GPS to keep me on track.
I eventually reached Barcelona having completed 500 miles in six days only to learn that my friend in Rome had had to go to England because her sister was ill. I wanted to spend the day on the beach and swim in the Mediterranean Sea. I found a beach close to the city, hired a lounger and umbrella, parked my bike next to my lounger, and settled down to a relaxing day. I gave in to a lady who kept offering me a massage and had one. It felt good but didn`t last long and because she hadn`t got any change I had to have an extra leg massage. The beach got crowded with holidaymakers and there was a constant stream of vendors selling their wares. Many women tourists discarded their bras no doubt to get a better suntan and it was interesting to watch. I went into the sea but was worried about my possessions left on the beach, so could not swim far away.
I thought about my trip so far and decided it might be better to terminate my ride here in Barcelona, return to Santander by train, and then catch the ferry home. So I went to look for the railway station and eventually found `Sants` (name of the station). I went into the station and asked about a train back to the ferry port. I was told there was a high-speed train later but cycles were not allowed on these trains. I asked about returning via France to the channel ports and was informed the French railways were on strike. My only option was to catch a local train but it wouldn`t go all the way and I would have to cycle about two hundred miles and there wasn`t a local train until the morning. It was very late and I would need to be ready early to catch the train so I felt it wasn`t worth looking for accommodation.
I left the station and went for a walk in the dark pushing my bike just to have a look at a bit of the city. As I was pushing the bike through a darkish narrow path, three young men started trying to push me around and open my pannier bags. I just rushed on and in a loud angry voice told them to f._ _ _ off. They did luckily for me. I returned to the big square outside the station and sat down on a big stone bench. It was very late and there were only a few people around and on my bench, I felt quite secure. I made some food and tea on my stove and eventually felt sleepy. Suddenly a young man sat down next to me and ask for a cigarillo. I told him I didn`t smoke and he cleared off. I lay down on the bench must have fallen into a deep sleep. At four o clock in the morning, I suddenly woke up because I knew something was wrong. I discovered that my rucksack was missing. I got up and swore, looked around and everywhere was deserted. Inside my rucksack, I had my passport, all my money (500 Euros), plastic cards, some of my clothes, my camera, my mp3 player and my phone. All the important and most expensive items.
I left my bench and pushing my bike began the process of trying to find a police station. After asking a couple of people I found the police station where I could report my loss. I explained what happened and details were recorded and the police gave me a copy of their report. No more help was offered except they told me to visit the British Consulate for help. I cycled through the city that was coming to life and found the consulate but had to wait for it to open. When it did I entered and waited my turn to report my problems. They had to get me a temporary passport and took down details and I was given free use of the Internet and telephone. I was able to cancel my debit card and email my children to tell them what had happened. I knew they would be shaking their heads at their foolish father and I would get a telling off. It`s funny how everything has changed. I used to tell them off when they were younger now the reverse happens. I was in the consulate all day and many people who had been robbed came in the get a new passport. One young girl had been talking to a boy while his friends from behind cut the straps of her bag and ran away. Another young man had been backpacking and his rucksack was stolen with money and passport. The consulate rang his mother asking if she could forward some money for her son. She point blank refused.
One of the things I had to do was try and get some money. My bank gave me a number to ring which I did. I was on the phone for ages giving details. Then they rang my bank asking for information about my account. My bank wouldn`t give them the information so they couldn`t send me any money. I blurted out that I hadn`t eaten all day and needed some money. My conversation was heard by everyone in the waiting room who had been robbed themselves. When my phone call had finished I was presented with some money. The kind people had had a whip-round for me so I could buy some food. I was amazed at how kind people can be.
When the Consulate was ready to close for the day, my passport wasn`t ready and I only had a small amount of money in my pocket. I had nowhere to stay and had no contacts in the city. The Consulate told me to visit Spanish Social Services and gave me an address. I cycled to a different part of the city and found their premises. They were very helpful and found me a hostel, gave me some money, gave me a shirt because mine was covered in sweat, told me to put my bike in their van, drove me to a hostel, and spoke to the manager.
I took my bike into the hallway and went up to my room. The hostel must have had no stars. My room was like an oven, I could hear children yelling and loud voices. It was like the black hole of Calcutta. I walked out to the shops and bought some food, went back to my room and did some cooking on my stove. The place was awful but I was tired. I lay down on the bed and just fell asleep until morning.
I awoke had some breakfast and a cup of tea and was eager to leave and get back to the British Consulate. I walked downstairs with my pannier bags, but my bike had been stolen with a tent and bivy bag which I had left strapped to the bike. It had been padlocked to the bannisters and because it was inside the building I had thought it was safe. My heart sank and I nearly cried. I just walked out of the building and looked for a police station to report the second crime. It was a little more serious because this time it was burglary as it took place inside a building where people live.
I caught the bus to the consulate and soon my temporary passport was ready. Duncan sent me a plane ticket for later in the day, and I collected a little more money he had sent me from the bank. I had a meal and made my way to the airport carrying my pannier bags and caught an Easy Jet flight to Stanstead Airport.
When I arrived home I discovered I was insured twice. I had travel insurance and contents away from home insurance. I worked out I had lost about £1200 worth of goods, money and bike. The travel insurance eventually paid me £580 after all their exclusions had been calculated. My contents insurance paid me £650 and my bank paid for my passport. I wasn`t too much out of pocket, but most importantly, I had learned what not to do when travelling.
Sorry, no photographs of my journey as my camera was stolen.
Later I discovered someone had used my debit card to buy something. The card had been stopped straight away so my bank refunded me the money.
The Spanish blame the Moroccans and Romanian Gipsies for the crime.
Happy travelling and be very careful if you visit Barcelona.
The End
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