New abode on the road

It’s been over a week now since I’ve moved to Granada and so far, so good.  It’s about a fifteen minute walk from the city centre, there’s a cute little park nearby, banks, tapas bars and bakeries line the street.  The zone where students do their botellón (an outdoor pre-drinks party) is right at the end.

Much of my decision when choosing my new abode was based on the belief that there are supposedly two bus stops that serve a special bus for ‘trabajadores’ (people who live in Granada but work in Motril), which stops frequently along my road. I say ‘belief’ and I say ‘supposedly’, because having walked up and down the length of Calle Arabial, (which happens to be one of Granada’s main roads) I have failed to find any sort of bus stop. There is supposed to be one right outside the park, at street number 11.

Calle Arabial

My road. How many stops can you spot?

I have walked around and have even run through the park. I have closely examined the name of each bus stop on either side of the road.

There is nothing.

The guy at the information desk in Granada bus station should have at least added me on facebook by now.  The first week I asked him for the timetable for this special bus. He gave it to me. The second week, I asked him where about the stop was on the road, as I couldn’t find it. He said next to the park. Last week, when I went to enquire about a bus pass, I raised the query again about this mystery bus stop, but there was no new information to report.

I have, as a result, resorted to the wonderful and wacky system of bla bla cars. For those of you who haven’t heard of this, it’s basically when you lift share with complete randomers. You sign up online, look for a journey going from A to B at specific time, and contact the person via whatsapp, the only form of communication which is deemed acceptable by Spaniards. For practicality, I have tried to keep my outbound journey going to Motril with the same woman, but getting back has been a bit more random.

Last week was the first time that I’ve used bla bla cars.

It is, I suppose, a bit odd travelling with someone you don’t know, and before I didn’t think it would be something I’d ever consider doing, but seeing as its a lot cheaper and faster than the bus, I decided to go for it.

The website lists the drivers’ age, includes a small biography of them and you can read comments that past passengers have left which leads to their driver ‘rating’.

It’s a shame the bus station guy doesn’t work at the bus station in Motril, too. We would have buddied up nicely in a bla bla car.

It has been a bit exhausting on the social front, though. Every time I travel with a driver who I haven’t met, I find myself repeating my whole life story to date in Spain. I ask the driver the same questions, I respond to theirs with the same answers and if the conversation becomes too awkward for my liking, I feel obliged to make much needed comments about the weather, as is the custom in most social situations, (the temperature difference that exists between Granada and Motril always goes down well). This, I have noticed, is the job of the person who sits in the passenger seat. When there’s a bla bla passenger already sat at the front, I squeal with joy inside at the possibility of quietly sitting in the back, relieved that I don’t have to make conversation in Spanish for an entire forty minutes.

Call me lazy.


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