Trip XL: From Port Alarconia Intl. Ferry Terminal to Zaidi Building
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This is my 40th trip, the XL trip in roman numerals. And it is going to be size extra large. I haven't photoedited the pics this time, but I think this trip gives a good variety of sights around Alarconia. Thanks for the suggestions, guys!
Port Alarconia International Ferry Terminal, Port Alarconia, 8:21 a.m.
More or less, this time every morning; the ferry terminal becomes a major spot of activity. Two international ferries arrive to the island and the one coming from Europe arrives at 8:30. Six fellows and me were awaiting for travellers while reading our newspapers and/or listening our radios.
A bunch of people flooded the terminal few moments later; most of them were looking for an empty taxi and I was one of them.
"Good morning, sir." I said in Catalan, while watching how my new customer hopped into.
"Good morning..." he said, in a different Catalan dialect. I recognised the "normalised" dialect from Barcelona, which is supposed to be spoken by our nation founders when they established Alarconia three-hundred years ago.
"Where do we go?" it was a young boy, around 25-30 years old.
"Uummm... Zaidi Building, in East Americana...
"Near the ballpark, right?"
"Yes, more or less..."
I wasn't absolutely sure where the building was, but I knew it was placed just besides the e2i Field, so I typed the ballparks address and the GPS device showed this:
It was going to be a pretty long trip, it would take me a lot of time; but I couldn't refuse it.
"I guess you know you're going very far from here..."
"Yes, I know. I think I'm going to spend more money in the taxi trip than in the ship..."
I started the engine then, and began running.
My customer was clearly a backpacker, you know. Comfortable clothes, big backpack and even an sleeping bag. He had arrived to Alarconia with the Mediterranean-Atlantic Express, covering the route between Barcelona-Funchal-Açores-Alarconia-Punta Cana-Havana-Miami. This was by far the cheapest way of reaching Alarconia, with an average price of less than 100 euros. Ships are fast and clean; nothing more. No restaurant, no luxury suites, no casinos... Suming up, the backpacker's choice.
"What makes you coming to the Atlantic Republic, outsider?" I asked, making fun of the typical question in western movies.
"I've come to see some friends..."
"Does the Mediterranean-Atlantic keep its low fares?"
"Oh, yes. Believe me, it's a great choice if you've got tons of spare time."
"How much trip time?"
"A couple of days..."
"Don't you think this is a lot?"
"Yes, but... I'm not in a hurry..." he said. 
"I also took the Mediterranean-Atlantic the first time I went with my friends to "the heartland". Planes were even more expensive than now..."
"Well, you know a bunch of people there, people from everywhere. It's almost impossible to board alone and not making a friend there."
I left Atlantic Avenue and entered in Alarconia City, inside the Industrial District. I was looking for the Autopista (the Highway).
"Have you ever been here before?"
"No, it's my first time here..."
"Then don't pay many attention to this part of the city."
"I won't..." he said, smiling. This is not the best place to bring a tourist for the first time.
I left Avinguda de l'Indústria (Industry Avenue) in the crossing with the Highway and I entered there, heading to the downtown. We had to go through the Tunnel, the one which communicates the Industrial District with Alarconia City.
Going outside the Tunnel on its north opening is always a shocking experience. You're seeing darkness and a second later, a bunch of towering skyscrapers come towards you as if they were going to tread on you. All the tourists I had brought to the downtown from the port always were shocked and my customer wasn't an exception.
"Is that Ciutat d'Alarcònia?"
"Yes, it is. Technically, it begins here because is the place where air pollution is less severe."
He took a couple of photographs with a reflex camera. I don't know much about photo cameras, but I could bet it was a professional model.
"Nice cam... Are you a photographer?"
"No, no... I've recently finished my degree in Marketing; but I like photography a lot..."
We were passing now besides Chaos District and McCormick District, the surroundings of the CBD and part of the downtown. The highway is surrounded by tall buildings and part of the UrbanRail's 0 Line elevated tracks.
"And... what's going on Catalonia and Spain this days?"
"Struggling with the Crisis, as usual."
"Yeah, don't tell me about the Crisis... I think we all are *swearing*!"
"I guess your problems are not as worrying..." my customer said.
"I read that Catalan industry is suffering a lot; in our case, our industry is doing pretty well but prices have risen astronomically."
"Why?"
"We've got to import nearly all the food we consume; there are a very few problems grown here..."
"Except fish."
"Yes, except fish. I saw a study in yesterday's paper that said that Alarconians were slowly shifting their meals to a more fish-based diet."
"Didn't know..."
"But definately, your industrial sector is having real problems..." I said.
"It is what I always say... During the 90's and the 00's, a bricklayer could earn the double money that an engineer or a scientist could earn a month. Simply, everybody who had any problem at school, went to a construction site and they had a well-paid job."
"And then, the bubble exploded."
"That's it. And now, they don't have a job, they're living from their subsidies, not consuming and pulling down the country..."
"They couldn't know this would happen."
"Anybody with some intelligence could predict this situation. You say Alarconia is almost all paved? In Spain, entire cities emerged from nothing, at Winter is very depressing to walk in a nearly desert coastal towns full of unnoccupied apartments... And now, we're paying."
"You and all the others."
"Of course. Nobody is safe except the ones with money."
We passed besides Plains District and the embassy zones talking about the Crisis. One customer talking about the crisis is not a problem; but when you've carried twenty people and they all talk about the same; it can be really annoying.
We had at our left hand the Banc de Comerç d'Alarcònia building, one of the tallest in the nation. I kept my 80 km/h speed while listening to my customer.
"As a taxi driver, you must be aware of all what happens..."
"If you hop on without having watched the news, I can play CNN for you..." now seriously "I've got to buy a newspaper for my customers but I also listen to the radio all day long, so you can be sure that I am one of the first people to know about breaking news. My fellows and I..."
"So you're like information junkies?"
I laughed.
"More or less... I suffer this when I'm on vacation. When I spend a couple of days abroad without having any news I get very nervous so I try to get an Alarconian newspaper somewhere, which is quite difficult..."
"I see..."
"I think is a psicological problem."
We were heading now to Broken district, passing besides New York Building and under the Lines 0 and 1 UrbanRail lines.
"You've got a nice country despite being less than a million people."
"What do you mean?" I asked with curiosity.
"Well, it's part of a theory I have, I can explain it if you want." he said.
"You can be sure I've heard lots of things, so don't be afraid."
"My theory is that the magnitude of "near" or "far" or "crowded" are not the same for people with different nationalities."
"For example?"
"Would you say this trip is going "far"?"
"Definately. We're going through the entire country..."
"We're only running more or less seven kilometers. It is about the distance between my hometown and the neighboring city."
"Alarconia is a tiny nation."
"Look; this last Summer I knew an Australian student and I was really shocked while talking with him."
"Why?"
We were about to enter inside the East Tunnel, the one that takes you to Districte dels Madrilenys (Madrid People's District) and East Alarconia City. I kept listening to him.
"That guy told me that he went from Sydney to Melbourne to see his girlfriend and told me about a short trip..."
"It is a very long trip over the map."
"Here's my point. You as an Alarconian or me, as a Spaniard we could say: "Wow, this a pretty long distance"; but an Australian, a Russian, a Chinese or a North-American wouldn't say that.
I reduced my speed to get the Madrid People's Interchange, in order to take the A2 Highway. This part of the city had a better look than some months ago; which was a little dilapidated.
There was some traffic intensity in the A2, maybe there had been an accident before; but I didn't noticed anything.
"I had never thought about this..."
"Ask yourself something. Tell me in a single work how psicologically far is Barcelona from here?"
"Uffff... It is way far..."
"For me and for all my people; Alarconia is very near. I mean, Japan is far. Alarconia is near..."
"I guess this is your opinion..."
"This is where I wanted to arrive." he said, convinced. He had convinced me.
We kept straight on, but my customer didn't say anything more. I saw he began checking the pics he had taken before with his reflex camera.
"Nice pics?" I asked.
"I'm not good at photographing people."
"In my experience, this is much tougher than photographing buildings or landscapes."
"I can tell you that is actually tougher."
"Buildings don't move and don't complain if they don't look nice in the pic..." I joked, while travelling between the two Alarconia City Gate Towers.
We were arriving to Engineers Interchange, I kept straight on heading to Americana.
We were entering in West Americana, finally. I had the sensation of having been driving for ages. the sun had totally risen and I needed my sunglasses. I promised myself to put them on the next stoplight.
"Are we entering in Americana?" my customer said.
"Yes, but the place where you going is still a little far. "Far" from an Alarconian point of view, of course..." my customer smiled "Seriously, we have still to run a couple of kilometers.
"Is Americana nice?"
"In what sense?"
"It is a nice place to live? A pleasant place?" he asked.
"The places which aren't the downtown are very green and well-cared. The downtown is a little crazy for my taste, specially in game days."
"Are we in baseball season?"
"I would say not yet, but I'm not sure. I don't follow the baseball league." 
I went off the A2 Highway and took Old Americana Road, which links, as Atlantic Avenue also does; East and West Americana. We passed besides Americana Aerodrome and went on; I was staring at the waste-to-energy plant high chimneys.
Americana was as green as usual, with its different architecture and its different way of life. They even had a recycling plant in their backyard.
"You're right, it is quite nice."
"It is also very land-consuming and water-consuming; but nice."
"Yes, those gardens must be watered frequently."
"This years many people have upgraded to a less water-consuming turf, more adequate for this climate we have; but still lots have to water their lawns every day."
We were entering now in Americana's midtown, if we could call it so. Zaidi Building is placed here, in that narrow strip that separates the downtown from the low district, a kind of Alarconia City suburbia.
"We're arriving now..." I informed him. My customer watched at the taximeter and looked in his wallet.
"I think I've broken a record with the Most Expensive Trip."
"I guess you've doing a great profit with me."
"I prefer this than rather the customers that tell me to carry them a couple of blocks far." I confessed.
I looked for Zaidi Building main entrance and stopped the car where I could. My customer handed me the 78.95 AL$ the trip had cost him. He gave me eighty Alarconian dollars and told me to keep the change.
"Believe me, next time take a bus or simply the UrbanRail or the Metro until the downtown and take a taxi there. It would be much cheaper."
"I know, I know... I'm such a newbie in this country..."
"Tomorrow you won't. Have a nice day and a happy stay."
"Thank you very much."
"Thanks!"
"Bye!"
OK, I thought I deserved a Good Morning Starbucks Coffee...
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