We had no idea we'd be spending
hours in a taxi looking for a room. The driver invited his girlfriend
along for the ride. Um. Was he going to help us find a hotel, or was he
taking us for a ride?
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Living the Life of Holly |
Column # 133 Double
Date |
We had no idea we'd be spending
hours in a taxi looking for a room. The driver invited his girlfriend
along for the ride. Um. Was he going to help us find a hotel, or was he
taking us for a ride? |
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www.livingthelifeofholly.com
Well. There it was. We had been left smack in the middle of Huelva, Spain without a plan. I flagged down a taxi. “WE’RE GOING TO THE TRAIN STATION, PLEASE.” “OF COURSE.” Our driver said. “COULD YOU PLEASE STAY IN THE CAR WITH OUR BAGGAGE WHILE WE CHECK THE TIMETABLE?” “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” He asked politely. “SEVILLE.” “THE NEXT TRAIN TO SEVILLE IS TOMORROW MORNING AT 8:00.” I turned to Cool-guy. “He said that there isn’t another train to Seville till eight tomorrow morning.” “Great. Let’s see where else we can go. I’m hungry. If we go somewhere now, we can get a good dinner when we arrive.” We checked the time table. Yup. Eight the next morning. The driver came in and pointed out the times to Seville. You know. In case we needed help. “THANKS FOR YOUR HELP.” I said. “I GUESS WE CAN’T LEAVE TILL TOMORROW. CAN YOU RECOMMEND A GOOD HOTEL?” “OF COURSE.” He said, ushering us back to the taxi. “HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT TO SPEND?” “How much do you want to spend on a hotel?” I asked Cool-guy. “I don’t want fleas or bugs or mice or prostitutes. And I want you to translate that, word for word. I’ll be listening.” Yeah. No. “MEDIUM PRICED WOULD BE FINE.” Our driver perked right up. “I KNOW THE PERFECT PLACE THAT IS RIGHT NEAR THE TRAIN STATION. YOU COULD WALK THERE IN THE MORNING.” “PERFECT.” I doubted. “He says there is something inexpensive right near the station.” We drove up and the driver ran inside to check on availability. Cool-guy was not impressed. “You forgot to mention no prostitutes.” “SORRY. NO ROOM HERE.” He said. “NO PROBLEM. I KNOW ANOTHER PLACE. IT IS A LITTLE MORE MONEY…” “GREAT.” “What?” Cool-guy asked. “I told him that you were willing to pay a lot more money to stay in a place that was better than that flea-bag prostitute laden hotel.” “How much did you say?” He laughed. “Thousands. You’d be willing to pay thousands, right?” “WHERE DID YOU LEARN YOUR SPANISH?” Driver-Juan asked me. “IN COLLEGE.” “HE DOESN’T SPEAK SPANISH?” “HE SPEAKS LITTLE WORDS HERE AND THERE BUT HE IS SO CUTE THAT IT DOESN’T MATTER.” Driver-Juan laughed. The next place looked just as seedy. The driver took off inside. “SORRY. THEY HAVE NO ROOMS. DON’T WORRY. I WON’T LEAVE YOU ON THE STREET. WE’LL FIND SOMETHING.” I laughed. Cause our last driver did leave us on the street after he drove us out of Portugal. He dumped us on the first curb he could find. It was our own fault. We didn’t have a destination in Huelva. “WHY ARE ALL THE HOTELS IN HUELVA FILLED?” I asked as we drove around and around and around looking for a decent hotel with a room. “HUELVA IS A VERY NICE CITY. IT IS OLD AND THERE IS VERY GOOD SHOPPING. MANY PEOPLE COME HERE TO GO TO THE BEACH.” Boing. Really. I think my head boinged. “THERE’S A BEACH HERE?” “YES.” “IS IT A NICE BEACH?” “ONE OF THE BEST IN SPAIN.” “He says the beaches here are some of the best in Spain.” “Really…” “ARE THEIR HOTELS AT THE BEACH?” I asked, salivating. “OF COURSE.” “ARE THERE ANY NICE HOTELS AT THE BEACH?” “YES. THERE IS ONE NEW ONE, THE BARCELO. IT IS ONE OF THE BEST IN SPAIN.” “What?” Cool-guy asked, tugging on my shirt. “He says that there are really nice hotels out at the beach. Maybe we ought to sleep there tonight, then take the train to Seville tomorrow afternoon. “Let’s do it.” The driver stopped. “I WILL CALL TO CHECK ON AVAILABILITY.” He said. “Wow.” I watched him run off. “Is he going to get some dinner? Cause I want some too.” “He’s checking to see if they have a room.” Driver-Juan came back with his girlfriend. “IF YOU DON’T MIND, SHE WILL RIDE WITH US. WE HAD A DATE TONIGHT. SHE DOESN’T MIND RIDING ALONG TO THE BEACH.” “What?” I laughed. It was like dating a deaf man. “His girlfriend has never met a tall thin chef. She wants to ride along in the hopes that you’ll divulge some cooking secrets.” Cool-guy laughed. “I think this is our first double date, isn’t it?” “It is!” Driver-Juan filled his date on the bits of information he had gathered. “HE IS A CHEF. SHE IS A WRITER. THEY BOTH LIVE IN COLORADO, BUT THEY DON’T LIVE TOGETHER. THEY JUST LEFT PORTUGAL. SHE LEARNED SPANISH IN COLLEGE. HE DOESN’T SPEAK SPANISH, BUT HE’S SO CUTE THAT IT DOESN’T MATTER.” I Laughed really hard. “What?” Cool-guy asked, tugging on my shirt. “Driver-Juan thinks you’re cute.” I giggled. “MUCHAS GRACIAS.” Cool-guy said. “WHY IS HE SAYING THANK YOU?” Driver-Juan asked. “BECAUSE YOU ARE SUCH A SAFE DRIVER.” I lied, as we pulled up to the hotel. No. There was no hallelujah chorus, but there could have been. Clearly Juan had taken us to a little slice of heaven.
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