Ramble
Quest - A Bum In Castellon
All the way down the coast on the train to Valencia, I had my eye open for possible towns to visit during the return trip north. I've had good success with this method, particularly in Asia, but it's harder here since the areas near the train tracks are almost all bad. One of the cities, Castellon De La Plana, was large enough that the train went underground when it pulled into the station, so I couldn't see the town. I decided to gamble on a stop there.
Castellon is also large enough to have an open tourist information center, although they put it about as far from the train station as possible. Once I trek over there they are able to supply me with a crude map and a list of hotels. Even with this, finding a place is extremely difficult. After a great deal of walking around I wind up taking a room above a coffee shop called Ventura. It's not much of a place and the cot in the room spectacularly falls apart when I sit on it, yet it seems like heaven compared to Valencia's "home" and only costs four euros more.
The local Fine Arts Museum has some good stuff that is well displayed. Like most of the other local museums I've seen, it is completely deserted. As I've mentioned before, I'm always amazed by the stuff they have in these little museums. Imagine if a friend walked up to you and showed you something like the ornate processional staff I see in one of the display cases here. You'd certainly find it interesting, but for some reason these items tend to get ignored in a little musuem.
The next day, I have an excursion planned to a nearby nature area, with some hills, ruins, and a convent, when I have the stangest inclination to hang around this rather ordinary Spanish city. It's days like this when I wonder if I've switched sides in the classic travel debate between Vincent and Jules in "Pulp Fiction". Usually I side with Jules, who wants to take time off to become a "man who walks the earth". However, sometimes, like on this day, I wonder if Vincent is correct in arguing that the word for people like that is: "bum".
You see, I find myself doing bum-like things such as wandering around areas that aren't very attractive and loafing about on benches in squares and parks. Like Jules, I try to justify this as an "observer of life". Plus I can always whip out my Fitzgerald novel and become artsy aware after a few paragraphs. And I am really observing people, to the point where this act becomes very much like watching a film for me. And I do have the occasional high-brow thought as I study four women endlessly saying goodbye to each other at an intersection or as I watch some young hipsters cruise the streets with profanity-ridden gangsta rap blasting from their cars.
I imagine that I see all kinds of nuance in the steet life that will somehow give me a greater understanding of Spain or of life in general. In my own state of observant alienation, I think I see parallels with the abstractedness of literary characters. Two guys gesture with their hands while talking and touch each other to emphasize a point and I feel like I've missed out on being a part of a society. Some old men play bocchi ball and I notice a sad connection to shuffleboard, giving me an insight into competition among old men.
I feel like I understand it all and the next minute, feel like I understand nothing. Am I really traveling now or have I completely stopped? Am I having the epiphany Jules so desperately desires or is Vincent right in thinking that I've just become a bum and should go get a job?