Well my plan of blogging everyday seems to have been a pipe-dream. No one tells you that when traveling alone each day slips through your hands before you realize it has happened.
One day you are on a 12 hour bus, a bit sick, sitting next to a young french boy playing tik-toks aloud (the entire time), while fading in and out of sleep. And the next day you are in front of the eiffel tower contemplating asking someone to take a picture of you standing in front of it (you don’t). Then you are lying flat on your back in the bathroom on the fifth floor of the hostel trying to stop your head from spinning. Then you are back in front of the eiffel tower this time with 4 bottles of wine and 4 strangers, you are laughing harder than you have in a long long time. You are comparing accents and talking about politics and celebrities and traveling- never zooming in from the bigger pictures, it’s all quite refreshing.
Then you are looking at videos of you eating escargo- i forgot we did that. You are smiling and walking and trying to get back home before your phone dies. You are chatting with strangers and making small talk, you are speaking in english and sometimes german. You are missing your boyfriend and it feels cliche and stupid so you call him but that only make you miss him more.
You eat 2 croissants and 2 coffees each day. It is hot and sunny and the hostel has no AC. You wake up sweating on your last day but you don’t have a towel so you have to use your t-shirt. You are washing your dirty wet shirt in the sink of the hostel, and wearing your ‘clean’ wet shirt to the club.
People are saying things to you in french and all you can say to them is thank you.
Feral in the barrel 