Saturday 26th September
Our final morning in Madrid - following a night punctuated by the revellery of Spaniards celebrating TGIF, we woke slightly discombobulated and made our way to Atocha Madrid Station. We were soon headed east for Barcelona at speeds in access of 300kph. The dry arroyos and stunted trees of indeterminate origin left the flat landscape a desolate appearance starkly contrasting with the mountainous green valleys of Andalucia.
Travelling at these speeds is an advantage for the landscape changes regularly offering the weary traveller respite from the flat lands of Aragon. This day trip was not one I was too eager about as we had to change trains a number of times, with tickets needing to be purchased at unfamiliar destinations in ever narrowing timespans.
Arrive at Barcelona, redeem Eurail tickets for the daily commuter to Cebere at the French border, alight at Cebere after 24 regional stops, redeem for Narbonne, and finally change trains once again for Carcassonne. Cap Cebere to Narbonne is a fabulous trip, highlighted by views of seaside towns and castle ramparts. Once past Perpignan, the pink and purple rinsed sunset highlighted the flocks of wild geese soaring from the marshes. The train's isthmus of track was often the only break in the tracts of water.
The experience inspired Wendy to remember a train trip she once took to Morriset, or Budgewoi, or somewhere equally exotic. We were met at Carcassonne by our host Jean with a peck on each cheek and a broad Glaswegian accent Ooooooooo, ye poor we bairns, travelling all that distance.
To be continued...
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