Earlier I mentioned that I thought I’d bought a rail ticket from Zaragoza to Sigüenza. It turns out it was actually a rail replacement bus service. A bit like being at home.

And that’s why it was a bus from Sigüenza to Madrid – for at least part of the way!

I didn’t think I was confused when I caught the bus. This time it was what I was expecting. When we got to the first stop everybody got off – except me. The lovely driver came and fetched me and managed to get me to understand that the rest of the way was by train and that the station was round the corner on the right.

So far, so good. So I need to catch a train. This was when the confusion set in because that was utterly unexpected and there was no further information that I could understand.

Fortunately, a fellow passenger stopped and helped me. He explained what he thought was going on, although he wasn’t completely certain. He was originally from Sicily! And moved to be with his Spanish boyfriend in Sigüenza a couple of years ago!

I’d noticed him queuing for the bus at Sigüenza and had thought to myself that he looked Italian, and I told him so! “I wondered if you were Italian,” I said, “because the Spanish are quite … laid back in their appearance, and you are very stylish!” I think (and hope) that he thought that was cute and funny.

He explained that there was work on the lines that meant that no trains were running through Sigüenza.

He was a little less confused than me and was able to ask questions and understand the answer (a crucial weakness for me – if I can work out what the question is, I struggle to understand what I get back). However, while we were chatting he realised that the train we wanted was the one rolling out of the station! There was no point rushing for it – it was already moving. And it was too darn hot to run.

Oh dear.

You know, there is part of me that actually enjoys these little upsets. Travel is much more fun when you don’t treat unexpected events like disasters. I wasn’t flustered: there was bound to be another train. It wasn’t even lunchtime, so there was plenty of time.

We didn’t have to wait long. A train arrived at the station from Madrid. We jumped onto it, and it promptly rolled back out again the way it came.

Sorted!

Actually, better than sorted because I had come to realise that the bloody app had chosen, at random almost, two stations at the opposite end of Madrid for the arrival from Sigüenza and departure to Toledo. Which I’d dutifully followed when I brought my itinerary in line with my accommodation.

The good news was that the train from Sigüenza had always stopped at Madrid Atocha – I didn’t need to go all the way the app had created for me. The lesson is perhaps do more manual planning next time!

While in the train we chatted about our jobs and travel and politics (like most Europeans he can’t understand Brexit either). I said that it was the gift that keeps giving: I not only have to queue at airports and limit my stays, I also don’t get unlimited roaming and have to watch my usage (I’m at 95% used … with a week still to go).

We talked about his moving from Italy to Spain with his boyfriend. And their charming origin story when neither of them spoke the other’s language – and they still got it together. I think they’ve been together for more than ten years.

We had fun with languages. His English was beautiful, with that sexy Italian bounce that brings the lyricism and rhythm of Italian to English – along with popping unexpected vowels at the end of words.

As the train reached Atocha, we swapped WhatsApp details and had a hug. Without this lovely fellow, I might still have been wondering what the hell I was supposed to be doing.

After a wait in Atocha, I’m safely on the train to Toledo!