What´s the likelihood of meeting someone from your hometown on a train through a foreign country?
It happens, you´d say.
What about someone from your hometown, from the same part of town, who went to the same high school?
That´s exactly what happened last night (or early this morning).
I lugged my suitcase up into the train, and struggled to my seat. As I was trying to sort myself out, this guy plunked his backpack next to me. I noticed the big Canadian patch right away.
“Canadian,” I declared, more than asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “You?”
“Me too. Where from?”
“Toronto,” he said, looking at me as I also acknowledged it. “What part?”
“Me too! Did you go to Ryerson?” he asked. I said no.
“Did you go to Campbell?” he asked, referring to my old high school. I nodded, incredulously.
Turns out he was two years behind me, which was hilarious. And he and his friends were apparently at the same hostel in Valencia the same time I was.
So I think we spent the first hour of our trip chatting, which was great.
The last time I saw him and his friends was at the train station, where we were all trying to sort out our travel tickets with little or no Spanish whatsoever. I think they were headed for Malagá, then Italy.
But it was so nice to be able to talk to someone from the same place, at least for a little while.