Belief is a strange thing. If you truly believe in something, does it make it true? People have such different beliefs, and many people are truly convinced that their particular beliefs are the truth, especially as far as religion is concerned.
I am not a fan of religion, especially exclusive ones that declare themselves comehow “chosen” and more special than everyone else. I watch a lot of true crime videos, and you can be certain that the killer will be the “God fearing, church going, family person” nine times out of ten.
However, I see the point of it. It can unite people and it can offer solace and comfort. As long as it is a tolerant religion and not hypocritical I can respect it. As long as I am not expected to blindly follow it.
I consider myself spiritual but not religious, and respectful of anyone else´s choices. Certain things have happened to me in lif that have convinced ne that a higher power exists, though I lose belief sometimes and have to remind myself. This story is one such experience.
My mother suffered from vascular dementia. She had a series of strokes after the death f my father and became progressively worse. One such time I set off to visit her, travelling to the UK by car so I could travel around and also as I hate flying. My son Jack was about 7 years old. it was just the 2 of us.
The journey there was a dream. No problems, we stayed overnight in a truck stop in Cahors France. Me, Jack and about 50 French lorry drivers. I would definitely recommend these kind of places. Really good value and fantastic food. My experiences in France have never been particularly good to be honest, but this was one of the better ones.
On arrival at Dover we went first to Reading for the birthday party of a friend and had a great few days. We carried on to Manchester to visit my Mum as she was in hospital. This too funnily enough was enjoyable, spending quite a lot of time with my Mum. Jack was the darling of the old ladies ward, helping a lady with only one arm and leg to open things and not batting an eyelid at some of the unladylike sitting positions of the others. He helped me brush my Mun´s false teeth and wash her hair, and it was so sad when the few days were up.
Although my mum was away with the fairies by then, she did come back enough to say “I don´t want you to go” as I explained to her we had to return to Spain. This broke my heart as I knew I would never see her again, I just felt it. She was so frail and confused. I´m just glad we did get that time together.
Off we went, stopping again overnight at my friends in Reading, then back on to the Ferry to return to Spain from Calais.
We arrived in Calais with 120 euros in cash, my credit cards and mobile phone. I didn´t have much petrol and considered finding somewhere straight away, but figured as I was travelling on the toll roads there were bound to be plenty of them, right?
Wrong. Word of wisdom (may have changed now), but there were NO petrol stations for ages and ages. These were the days before Google. Now you could just Google the nearest one and come off the motorway, but I was too scared to do so then and either get lost or run out of petrol. So I took an executive decision and stopped at one of those SOS phones, to phone for help and not take the chance of running out far from a phone and have to walk with Jack to the phone.
My telephone was not working, I had no signal, must have been when roaming wasn´t so easy as it is now, and no telephone had Whatsapp or internet then. I can´t complain about the speed the guy arrived, he was there within ten minutes with a can of petrol.
120 euros- shit. An expensive tank of petrol.
Never mind, I would pay by card.
Card didn´t work- double shit.
On that trip France was like the Twilight Zone for me- nothing wotked. Phone, credit card, debit card.
I had 120 euros in cash, but that was ALL I had. And I was just beginning my journey really. I had to pay tolls, get more petrol, and pay for a stay over. What could I do?
Do you have another card? he asked.
I was about to say no, then I remembered I did have the card details of an ex boyfriend of mine, but not the card. This, like everything in my life, is a long story. Basically this was a guy I had had a relationship with many years before when I lived in Reading but we were still in touch. He lived in Gibraltar. Earlier that year he had invited Jack and I to stay with him in Seville for a couple of days, and given me the card details to book the hotel.
To cut a long story short, it turned out that he had different views of that trip than I did and I had left early after barricading him out of the room- we had not spoken since. I gave the card details to the guy on the roadside, I had the card number expiry date and security code. I told him it was not my card and I didn´t have the card itself, he said no problem. I think he was just glad to get paid and get home. The relief when that payment proceseesd was palpable for both of us.
I know my (ex) friend wouldn´t be happy but what else could I do at the time? I would make it right later.
So we set off again. I was rushing a little as I wanted to get over the border to Spain before it got dark, and this had taken time. I planned to stop somewhere then, presuming my phone and card would start wotking again over the border.
An hour later the Traffic Gendarmarie pulled me over for speeding.
Triple shit.
Anyone of you who live in Spain and think the Guardia are tough they have nothing on these for nastiness. Maybe it was the language barrier as my French is not as good as it was before Spanish took over, but they were nasty. I just think if you are dealing with a woman obviously upset with a seven year old boy in the car you could at least be a bot nicer no matter what nationalty they were.
The fine was 120 euros and I had to pay it there and then in cash. I tried to explain that that was literally EVERYTHING I had, and that my phone was not working, my cards were not working, and I would not have enough money to stay over anywhere or even get to Spain, where i was sure I could at least ring someone for help or my cards would work again.
They were not interested. I think their exact words in broken English were- “You no pay you stay here”.
I think my hysterical cring did rub off a little bit, and they did say “follow us”, I presume they were going to take us to the police station or something. But I couldnt face it, I had to get home I had work the day after next. I gave them the money and I set off again hoping I at least had enough petrol to get over the border to Spain, and travelling on the a roads instead of the motorway to avoid tolls.
I drove through the night. Jack slept through it all luckily, as I was getting more and more anxious. Petrol was going down and down and I was getting tired, but I didnt want to stop as I was scared.
It was the early hour of the morning.
I prayed.
Suddenly a service station loomed up. One of those quite big ones that you come across on roads where many people travel. I do not remember where I was at the time though it was not far from the border, but still in France.
I had to go to the toilet so I woke Jack and in we went.
It was deserted and quite eerie. Just us and the person behind the counter, I don´t remember if it was a man or a woman.
It was a big service station and there were loads of loos, none occupied.
We went into one of maybe 30 choices.
I could have gone into any of those toilets, but I chose that one.
On the cistern looking at me was a small red Radley change purse.
Radley has a Scotty dog motif on the front.
In that purse was a 50 euro note and a couple of euros in change.
No cards, no ID, literally that was it.
That´s why I believe in angels.
I bought some petrol and continued over the border into Spain, where everything worked once more. My phone, my cards, I have never felt so much relief as I arrived in my beloved adopted country. That was the first time I knew Spain really was my home, and I am meant to be here for better or worse.
France- forget it.
I still have the purse, I use it every time I travel.
Whenever I look at it I remember why I believe that angels will help you if you ask them.
My friend was quite angry at first about his card, but we are still friends 🙂
And you? Do you believe in Angels? Have you ever had a similar experience?
Please let me know.
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CONFESSIONS OF A SPANISH TEACHER 