I think that tells an interesting story

"I think that tells an interesting story about children and politics," Karlan said.But when he's submitted papers to journals in the past, they've gotten one of two responses, he said."We've either been told, 'You didn't produce enough knowledge, it wasn't a clean enough test of a theory,' or that the paper isn't funny enough," Karlan said. "And personally, I was far more insulted by the second criticism." Henry Blackburn, travelling through Spain in 1864, soon learnt not to ask strangers the way. "Travellers who depend upon being told what to do and where to go at the various stations and junctions are continually being left behind," he wrote. "This is not thought much of in Spain, and amuses the officials immensely."But Concordia was the right station for Leon, despite appearances, and the daily train for the city was preparing to leave at 14.30. It was kept upstairs (as at the Gare Montparnasse in Paris, where on October 22 1895 the 08.45 from Granville ran through the buffers, sending the locomotive nosediving like a rogue bull into the street).

The afternoon was hot, but the new carriages were air-conditioned. There was a seat free on the right-hand side, which on the journey west would be the northern, shady side. Sol y sombra, sun and shade, matter in trains as well as bullrings, though railway tickets cost no more for seats in the shade. The width of the carriage accommodated only three seats across, for this was the Feve, the narrow-gauge railway. The excitement of the anomalous gauge soon wore off, but the journey to Leon was spectacular in part, and was timetabled to take 7 hours for the 208 miles, a speed of just under 28mph. As the train pulled out, an old lady crossed herself, not out of fear, but in the familiar custom of the kind of travellers who also say grace before meals. All meals are a gift; all life is a journey. Piped music flutingly moaned the melody of Moon River. In Spain, piped music is a curse to those who mind it; most Spaniards do not. As it approached Aranguren, along meandering track, the gait of the train, despite its leisurely pace, became drunken. Cows in the fields paused in their chewing of the cud and stared as it bounced, bucked, bucketed, rolled, pitched and jolted.