I hesitated about blogging this. Partly because I don’t want to exaggerate my story of being nearly two days in a small Pueblo with 300 others in the school gym. It sounds like the Apocalypse .

Also I am still processing the experience. Emotions changed as the situation evolved. From an initial “ oh well this train is just stopped for a while” to , an hour later “ it’s still stopped and it’s getting warm “ to 3 hours later listening to threads of conversation, passengers all unsure :”it’s a cyberattack , maybe terrorists, power off all over Europe “… And the muttered responses from train staff . The eternal Spanish phrase when no one wants to commit or to tell : “ No se”, Don’t know, a shrug.

I did think, well refugees must feel like this: not understanding the language or what is happening, where they are, what might happen . All anchoring points abruptly cease to exist.

I got that there was no power and no communication and the train staff could not contact anyone. Finally we were told to leave our luggage in the static train and some buses would be coming. We exited the train and filed through the deserted countryside to waiting buses and a “safe house”. I took my backpack with me , thankful that I was not pulling large wheelie suitcases over the rough ground as some were.

Half an hour later we were deposited in a large room , I think a school gym, in the tiny village ( 83 inhabitants) of Tocon.

Guardia Civil and Emergency services arrive. We’re handed out bottles of water and there are boxes of bananas and salami sandwiches . Apparently we’re not the only train that is stopped and all Spain is shut down, chaos in cities, airports, so I glean from the guy in charge of our rescue operation . They are now in radio contact and a generator is brought in late afternoon.

9.29pm . Still in Tocan, in the school. We’ve been given water and food, brought in by several cars and a truck. Small tables are lifted in, the food is placed there. Several women boil water on small gas stoves to provide tea and coffee. A lot of announcements on a megaphone and we gather round . Looks like we’re here for the night. Its going to be a long one on the chairs brought in and some gym mats and blankets . This is well organised. By now there is a woman interpreting , but I still don’t get it all , Apparently buses are coming tomorrow to take some of us back to Granada and some on to Sevilla.

We’re all trying to charge phones to let family know where we are. Some to cancel flights or bookings. Being so out of contact is the hardest thing for me. I’m so far away, and no one knows where I am.

It’s a bit like a party now. Kids are laid down on mats , and some people manage to get one while others arrange their chairs so legs are resting on another one. Some people are being annoyingly cheerful, others nodding off or looking bored or worried. I’ve been for a few walks around the dead town but scared to go for too long in case things suddenly change. Police say this is a category 3 emergency and we need to stay together , there is chaos in Granada snd Sevilla , that if we leave they cannot guarantee our safety . I think this is to curtail a minor revolt where individuals are negotiating with villagers with cars for lifts to Sevilla.

At Ipm we are entertained by a guitarist and a truly awful singer. Two women dance flamenco to claps and cheers. I’m tired and grumpy; if one more person makes a congratulatory speech to the Policia in charge of operations…..and there are claps and loud cheers each time he takes the mike and yells out the same messsge about staying calm .

Doze off and take a mat someone has abandoned , pull my jumper over my eyes to screen out the light which remains on all night and nod off in fits and starts. It’s like one of those absurdist dramas where nothing happens and the characters are in one room as the same scene, the same dialogue , repeats itself again and again. Wake at 5am bleary eyed and thankful for the coffee being brewed in saucepans . These women, and some men, have been working for 24 hours nonstop and smilingly answering the same questions flung at them.

So the morning goes and we’re told buses are arriving to take us to 2 destinations . Then there is a hiatus and the interpreter announces that people who want to go to Sevilla can form groups and each pay E 20 in cash . There’s a surge of people . Another hour and the Sevilla privately arranged transport arrives . A surge of people and the Policia stops everyone and appeals for calm .Families and old people first .

At last: the bus for Granada and one for Sevilla . We are warned that once in Granada or Sevilla we’re on our own . Renfe takes no responsibility . We queue up again and are escorted to the buses parked in the square. This purgatorial time is over.

And we’re off. After an hours drive we are dropped off at the bus station . Don’t know if trains are running but make my way to the train station , and quickly book on Trainline . 5 hours wait and it’s going to Cordoba. So I start off again from Granada after the unplanned sojourn in Tocan .

I am still reflecting on the fragility of our existence . How quickly can the structures we have built around us disappear. In the twinkling of an eye, the touch of a switch, the eye of a storm … All that really stays is the earth we walk on, and even that can sink into the sea or explode. We have built a world around us to feel safe. But it’s all temporary.

PS Thanks to one of my favourite Australian songwriters , Mick Thomas for the title ,the subtext of this story. Yes , it did feel odd as well as lonely. Real or imagined I felt completely detached from the group .