On the road again

I’m not going to sit here and glamorize anything. But, being on the road ain’t all that bad. Just ask my friend Andrew Harrison.

My friend Anna laughed at me earlier today when she read our train tickets. Anna lives in Cataluña, a region in northeastern Spain that speaks Catalan, and where Spanish is a second language. I've known Anna since 1992 when she, along with several dozen of her high school classmates, came to our high school in NY on a two week exchange program.

I had told her the day before when we arrived that we were taking the train from Barcelona to Milan, and that Steph and I had our own overnight private cabin. Because she reads Spanish better than me, she actually knew what the entire ticket said, and a private isn't what we had reserved.

Much earlier on, while preparing the trip, Anna had fairly wisely recommended to me for us to fly to Milan instead of taking the train. It’s her terrain, and who would know better how to travel in Europe than a native. The prices of trains and planes were surprisingly similar. And seeing as how ‘being on the road’ really isn’t the same as flying, we, in the end, chose to go by rail.

As complicated as the Barcelona metro and train system may be perceived to be, we managed it without a hitch. We were leaving from Anna’s village, a house located about forty five minutes north of Barcelona centre and connected by trains. Other than our packs and some extra camera equipment, the only true obstacle in the way to finding the Estacion de Francia (other than having the internet beforehand to get directions) was whether or not I could properly communicate in Spanish.

At this point we are somewhere in France, about half way there, and this train is flying.

Keep the faith.