It always surprises me when people say I’m brave. I don’t feel very brave most of the time. I guess people assume that, just because I do something, it means I am not affraid….well I got some bad news for ya. I am scared or at least nervous the whole time!
But today was exceptional, and not in a good way. I was riddled with worry and anxiety all damn day. First, I am in Bilbao, Spain and decided to take the bus to go see San Juan de Gaztelugatxe today before I begin walking the Camino tomorrow.
So, my worries began early…in fact they began last night. It started with, “will I find the bus stop?”, “will I take the right bus?”, “how do I get a ticket?”, “how will I know when to get off?”.
With help from Google and Trip Advisor, I found the bus with no problem and knew I could pay the driver and didn’t need to buy a ticket ahead of time.
So, I spent the bus ride worrying some more. I worried about getting off at the right stop, when to push the “request stop” button, would I find the place once I got off the bus…would it be easy to find the return bus, what is the buses stop running early on Sundays and I get stuck there? Worry worry worry worry….
Then, it was obvious which stop. I knew the name and I didn’t need to push the button because half the bus was getting off there (popular place since it got featured in Game of Thones). Finding it was easy between the signs and arrows…and the crowd of people all going the same way.
When I saw the trail and stairs, I decided to go ahead and worry about how hard it would be, would my legs be sore for tomorrow, was I recovered well enough from my jet lag to do it, why was I breathing so hard??!?
On the way down…I had an odd pain in the back of my calf. So…get ready for a ridiculous whopper of a worry….I decided to worry that maybe I had a blood clot in my calf from hours on the plane…and what if it was a clot, and what would that mean? Then it stopped hurting…So now I worried that if it was a clot and now it moved maybe I was going to go ahead and have a stroke right then and there, or maybe a pulmonary embolism, or a heart attack…was that why I was out of breath??!?
Are you laughing yet? You should be. This is way past ridiculous.
Oh, but I’m not finished yet.
After I got back up the hill, I headed to the return bus stop (I had scoped it out, again obvious and easy to locate). I even had the bus pull up right as I walked up, it had the right number displayed….except when I told the driver I wanted to go to Bilbao…he said it wasn’t the right bus! He wasn’t going to Bilbao…and then a bunch of rapid Spanish that went right on over my head….I managed to pick up a bit as he blazed words past me at light speed…
So I could walk…somewhere down the hill (he pointed) and catch a different bus at a different stop….more words…or something something bus in 35 minutes?
Shit.
So, I got off the bus and it drove away as I stood there a bit dumbfounded and worried…did I understand any of that correctly?
I pulled out my phone and checked Google, who said there was another bus coming in awhile. But, it was the same numbered bus as the one that just left! So…I worried some more. Is the next bus the right one, or will I get kicked off again? Why does the same number bus not have the same route and stops? What if it isn’t the right bus…how will I get back? Is my scalp going to burn sitting in the sun waiting without a hat?
The next bus came, it was the right bus. I got on and began to laugh at myself for all my worrying. I thought about how I would write all about it in my blog later.
When I got back to Bilbao…It was too late for lunch, too early for dinner and I hadn’t eaten all day. I wanted to find food and head to the hostel early (I need to pack and prepare for the Camino tomorrow!). Oh, boy. That leaves me with bars and tapas. Oh crap….worries. I am trying to eat healthy here and tapas are not it. Tapas in most bars are a piece of bread as the base…then topped or filled with ham, mystery mush, fish, mystery mush of a different color….etc. I went around looking…nothing that looked even remotely appetizing. But I was convinced I should do it….and suddenly nervous. The tapas are laid out on the bar tops and you’re supposed to point at them. The bartender puts them on a plate for you. But what is the mystery mush on the bread?!? My Spanish skills are limited…So too nervous to just ask, afraid I won’t understand the answer, and then there’s the awkward part of standing there with them looking at me.
So, I walked around for an HOUR trying to have the courage to do it. SAD. I tried to make myself. I went in a couple times but ran back out before the bartender had time to acknowledge me. Yes, that sad.
The happy ending is that I wandered around so long that I found a restaurant that had opened early….then had a very nice dinner (sans tapas).
So, I’m back at the hostel, packed for tomorrow and about to go to bed.
Will my legs be sore tomorrow? What if I get lost? What if I can’t do this by myself? What if I fall or hurt myself? What if my pack is too heavy? What if I worry so much I can’t sleep? ……
Ugh.