#this morning I was happily walking on my own through the streets of Barcelona

[vasattope]

~

[georgemackayhey]

Silver Lining: Chapter 5

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time…

w/c: 6k

a/n: Welcome to the end! This has been such a fun story to tell. I hope you've all enjoyed it! I'm so beyond grateful for all the nice comments and reblogs and asks. I've got blurbs and another series in the works, but please feel free to come talk about this one! I'm just not ready to say goodbye to these characters! ♡

taglist: @etherealallure​ @maria-josefin​ @shelbygirlsclubx​ @loulouloueh​ @clarkewithameme​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @weyheyavengers​ @queen-bunnyears​

<Last Chapter Masterlist>

───※ ·❆· ※───

George was happily occupied, his silhouette comfy on the small balcony, the sun highlighting the pages of the book in his hands. You quietly tiptoed to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light, letting the glow from the window be enough while you filled up the tub and eased into the warm bath.

You felt bad, but it wasn't from the hangover.

You felt bad for ruining Aureos night. You even felt bad as you formed some sorry text, asking the guy for another hang to make up for the last one you forced to an early end.

But you felt worst of all for dragging George through the aftermath of your shitty breakup.

When this was all over, he'd go back home, back to whatever movie set or red carpet he had lined up next. And his acquaintance would be fondly remembered as a balm to your heartache. But as you tried to outrun the anguish of being cheated on, a different worry seemed to take over your world.

Now you feared you'd never get to that place again. That you'd never get to plan a future with someone. You were terrified of how badly you wanted a future, and how badly you'd miss George, no matter what happened next.

When all your worries threatened to drown you, you hurried to get cleaned up, determined to make the most of the last few days in Spain.

When you rushed out of the bathroom to find George, he was right where you remembered him to be earlier.

He gazed up at you with a hint of worry in his eye, probably because of your sudden breathless appearance in the open doorway of the balcony.

"What do you want to do today?" You asked.

"Don't we have something-"

"No, what do you want to do?" You stressed. You didn't care what you had all planned out. Nothing ever seemed to go according to your plans, anyway.

And after a little bit more convincing, you got George to lead the way. You didn't even ask where you were going. While you strolled into the city, you wondered if George even had a plan. He walked slowly and shared easy conversation. And every now and again, he'd turn an odd corner or look up and around like he'd just realized where he was.

Eventually, you ended up in a park, or a garden, or some kind of nature trail you hadn't been paying much attention. You stepped over fallen branches, swept your hand over a row of flowers as you passed, but kept your undivided attention on George as he spoke. Though the weather was perfect and the sights were new and exciting, you couldn't look away from the man at your side. You could come back to Barcelona any old time, but you hated to accept your days with George were numbered.

You wound up against the trunk of a tree, watching families and hikers stroll past while the sun shone down in spots through the treetops. You could see the trail winding down a rolling hill, and the pepperings of the city and its buildings start to pop up on the horizon. And while you accounted for your surroundings you soaked up George's voice, and listened to the things he said as if he might be gone when you woke up tomorrow.

And then you talked, and George listened, looking at you like he did. Like he'd looked at all the paintings at the Vatican. Like he really wanted to know what you were about. You tried to ignore how sad his gaze made you feel, and appreciated that you'd made such a valuable connection before all of this inevitably ended back at your hometown airport.

You brushed a fallen leaf from George's shoulder, and he grinned at you in a way that made you retract back; spooked by how you recognized the expression, how familiar sitting with him had become.

George asked if you were okay, and you quickly thought to blame your nervous demeanor for how poorly you felt about last night. How things ended with Aureo, and how you'd texted him early this morning in hopes that he'd give you a second chance.

"He texted me back, an hour ago. So I'll have to meet up with him later." You rambled, avoiding George's burning gaze.

"If you feel like you have to... then don't. But if you want..."

"Yeah. I want." You decide through a sigh, pulling your phone into view, punching out a response to Aureo that let him know our plans were on.

George remained quietly glancing toward the city on the horizon, listening to families laugh together as they drifted passed. When you finished your text, you stood to your feet to make the most of the rest of your time with George.

"Come on let's go get gelato." You extended a hand to help him up from against the tree. George smiled up at you, an expression that wasn't hard to understand. You laughed together all the way back down the trail, and into the city.

When you go there, people of all kinds were buzzing about, setting up makeshift markets and dancing to music crackling from speakers above shop windows.

George lost himself to a conversation with a street vendor about a row of old records they were selling. You left him there to cross the cobblestone with your eye on a food truck. You ordered gelato as you promised, guessing what to order for George based on your late-night debates on what the best ice cream flavors were.

You handed your card to the man behind the window, while you let the wind blow your hair back, soaking up the bright smiles on every passerby's face.

"I'm sorry, miss, this card, it's being declined." The vendor frowned as if it were his fault. He opted to try again before you had the chance to apologize yourself and suggest the same thing.

It was the only card you had, and you'd made sure it was more than equipped to handle your big trip. But alas, the vendor handed it back with a long face and you had to shell out some of the last euros you had on hand.

You reported back to George with gelato, breezed over your predicament, and moved on to giggling over a story George told about an ice cream truck-related injury. He informed you'd gotten his order perfectly right, it was a flavor he'd never pick on his own but ended up loving. All the while you ended up strolling back toward your hotel, but opted not to head in just yet. The wind had picked up a bit, and most of the beachgoers outside your resort had called it a day.

You walked along the in coming tide with George, stopping every few feet to pick up a shell or look out to the ocean as it roared in time with the wind. And for as much conversation as you'd been having, the two of you never ran out of topics to ramble over. You laughed and listened and talked about things you'd forgotten about, things you always wondered.

All topics except one. George looked at you with those eyes bluer than the ocean, something unspoken behind his gaze. At first, you thought you'd understood that look. But it'd morphed into something so complex that you couldn't figure out what the look was supposed to mean. All you knew was that every time he cast you that one certain gaze, you felt right at home. You'd gotten used to it. You expected it. You anticipated that look and feared for the day you'd never see it again.

You sent George to collect your shoes from the place you hid them under a pier, when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You stayed lingering near a bed of grass, hoping after you'd taken a beat to acknowledge all the notifications coming in, that you could go about the rest of your day.

They were all from your bank. A pit opened in your stomach when you scrolled through all your recent transactions, none of them made by you. All of them from the resort you were meant to stay at all along.

Colin had maxed out your card on room service and bar drinks and expensive film channels and God knows what else.

Before you could call your bank, you dialed in Colin's number.

"Why would you do this?" You begged to know after he greeted your call like he'd been expecting to hear from you.

Colin started in on calling you names and boasting about how his payback seemed to work. He was trying to get back at you for leaving all the canceled wedding costs in his lap. But he cheated on you. He ruined all of this. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop making your life hell. You shouted at him, begging for a truce. Pleading for your interactions to be over, to never see a trace of him again.

That's when you spotted George trekking through the sand with his of pair shoes and yours in either of his hands.

Colin made life hard and maybe he always would. George made life easy, and you were really scared that he wouldn't be around to help you see the bright side for much longer. You always figured you'd fly home and go your separate ways. But now that same thought made you want to cry.

You ended your phone call with Colin in a huff, scrambling to find every bit of composure as George approached you, wearing a look that seemed to ask what the matter was.

"God, this is so stupid." You warned, glancing up to George as he stood, ready to listen.

"Colin maxed out my bank account. Luckily our tickets home are already paid for." You let out a laugh but none of this was funny. "And it's nearly five. I promised Aureo I'd meet him round six. So I better go pull myself together."

You sucked in a breath and turned to do just that. George looked at you like there were too many things he wanted to say, but couldn't choose one from the other, so he just followed along.

___

You got ready with time to spare, putting on your best outfit, fixing your hair just right. For some reason, this date felt paramount. Like making things right with Aureo was going to help everything else fall in place, bring some kind of balance.

As you collected your bag and started to slowly make your leave, George seemed to be waiting for you in the kitchen, standing a little straighter from his slump against the counter when he noticed you enter. George looked at you with an honest open expression, stitched with a hint of worry. No, not worry, something more complex. A disgruntled, melancholic gaze you couldn't quite place. But then he just said,

"I hope you have a good time."  

And it sounded like he really meant it.

"Me too." You whispered, spinning to leave. That same sinking feeling swallowed you as you marched down the hall away from George. You knew it was because you didn't really want to leave him. But you promised Aureo a good time and damn it, you needed one too.

___

Aureo was confident. He spoke like he was wishing for the things he wanted, demanding they come to life before his eyes. He wanted more. You didn't blame him for dreaming big. Everyone had their ambitions.

Aureo was beautiful, and he must have known it, with the way he flaunted his outfit, rambling about how green and grey were his best colors. You admired the way his emerald eyes bore into yours, undeniably drinking in the sight of you.

After a small introduction to the lower level of his home, you ventured to the back garden. You turned down a smoke, but leaned against the brink of his veranda while he puffed a cigarette, pointing out all the fresh veggies in the small garden he grew, like a proud parent.

And then he led you back inside, his hand traveling to the small of your back as you stepped into his cool home. You settled onto an elegantly patterned sofa as Aureo poured you both a tumbler of dark liquor before joining your side.

You kept hold of the glass in your lap, sickened even by the thought of drinking. Thank God Aureo was too busy talking to notice your disregard for the beverage. He asked your own answers too, watching your lips as you spoke. And before too long, he leaned in for a kiss.

You knew it was inevitable. You knew this was why you'd come here. So you let him kiss you, and you kissed him back, hoping the more desperately you gave in to his advances, that you would feel something. But you didn't feel what you were supposed to when kissing someone. You weren't expecting fireworks. But a warm buzz would have been nice. To make matters worse, no; to make matters absolutely inadequate, you couldn't stop thinking of George.

Had he gone out? What was he thinking? What would he say when you got back? What if he kissed you like this?

"Wait." You breathed, sitting back.

"Are you alright?" Aureo asked, watching you lean way from him.

"Actually..." You bit your lip, glancing around the well-decorated room. You realizing you couldn't stay here. When you looked back to Aureo, he actually looked sad. Not just disappointed. Actually sad. You slumped forward, searching his eyes when he brought a gentle hand to your face.

"I'm so sorry." You meant, hoping he knew you did. "But I... I think I'd better go."

Aureo took a beat to wait for you to explain why, or say anything else at all. But you didn't. You couldn't.

"Okay." He nodded acceptingly, nudging you to stand with him.

The guy called you an Uber and refused your persistent offers to pay him back. When your ride came, you and the guy you'd met days ago shared a kiss on the cheek and a whispered goodbye. And it was almost sweet enough to make you think of staying a little longer.

But still, thoughts of George burned closer to the forefront of your mind, and you kept walking down the gravel driveway. You dared to steal one last glance over your shoulder, finding Aureo leaning against his doorway, giving you a sorry wave. The sight was almost somber enough to get you to spin on your heels and make it up to him. But you just opened the Uber door.

You realized how when you'd felt like saying goodbye to George you'd only wanted to kiss him. You realized you were relieved when he didn't meet up with Renee because you were used to having him all to yourself. You realized you wanted to keep it that way. You had been trying to push theses feelings deep down, but you had absolutely nothing left to lose at this point. You'd been drunk a lot on this trip, but you'd never felt braver than right now...

When you unlocked the hotel room door, you chanted silent prayers that George would be around. If you had to wait until tomorrow, you wouldn't be able to say what you had the guts to, right now.  You didn't waste a beat as you marched straight toward the halfway shut door of the room George had been occupying. A soft light shone from inside.

You halted after pushing past the door, making your presence known. George was kicked back on his bed, reading, and he didn't seem a bit surprised to see you here and now.

"Okay. I have nothing left to lose. So I'm gonna say what I have to say. I didn't hook up with Aureo. I left.  Because the whole time he touched me I was only thinking of you. Maybe that's fucked up but that's just the truth."

George listened from behind the crinkled pages of "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" keeping that frighteningly calm gaze on you, while you spilled your guts.

"So... so unless I've been misreading the dozens of signs, I think it's safe to gather that you'd like to kiss me. And if that's true, you should do it. Right now." You stated in one nervous breathe, frustrated by all the lingering gazes, little touches, and thoughts that had never been acted upon.

"No," George hesitated but demanded all at once, in the fabulously complex manner of his. He shut the book in his lap and moved slowly to the edge of the bed to stand, keeping an eye on you as you went on,

"You said I was perfectly kissable! And no one has ever looked at me like you keep looking at me. Even right now." Your throat grew tight as you addressed the expression on George's face. Why was he moving to stand so close to you if he didn't want to kiss you? For the first time, you saw a faint chip in the resolve of his usual composure. George's eyes grew full as he spoke in a voice thick with feeling,

"Because I don't want to be your rebound!"

"Well, what if you weren't!" There was no need to hide the way your tears bubbled over as you gaped at him. It was the only way you could get George to understand how you really felt. How you weren't playing devil's advocate. How this wasn't your usual banter. Your heart was on the line.

"Don't talk like that-" George looked afraid, like if you said something just right three times in a row it'd appear and he'd have no choice but to give in to the spell. You had a shred of bravery left in your throat and breathed out every word you could manage before the strength fizzled away.

"George! I like you! I liked you from the moment we got on the plane. I liked you in the Sistine Chapel. I like you now, and I don't see a way out of it and I don't want a way out of it- I want you to kiss me. I want to fly back home with you because I'll still like you when we get there."

George was slack-jawed, mystified by your monologue, and as soon as the words stopped coming, the vice around your throat tightened and your tears poured out all the emotion you'd been building up, but could no longer speak. You cried into your hands, feeling sorry for how pathetic you were, and sorry for thinking up this dumb idea to invite George along in the first place.

You could hardly breathe as you felt George's strong arms wrap around you. One secured around your middle, the other across your shoulder, totally encapsulating you. As much as it was a relief to have him so near, his closeness broke your heart all the same. You cried onto his nightshirt and clung to the collar, knowing full well you would have to apologize for all this later but grateful for the compassion he chose to show now.

He didn't speak as you managed your cries, he just held on to you for dear life. When you were reduced to sniffles, George pulled away, his deep blue eyes catching yours. He didn't speak then either. He just brushed a stray tear from your cheek and searched your features as you hoped and prayed you didn't look half as pathetic as you felt.

And right when enough time had passed for you to feel like speaking up, George gently pulled you across the room. He wordlessly pushed you toward the bed back against the mess of pillows and switched out the light. He then made his way round to the other side and met you in the middle.

The usual sliver of space between you and George was forgotten, as he settled right next to you. And without saying anything, he pressed a very soft kiss to the side of your face. George's lips lingered against your temple, for a beat longer than you'd expected, and with each passing nanosecond, your heartbeat stuttered between speeding up and sinking to the floor.

When George pulled your head to rest on his shoulder and kept a warm strong hand rested at the base of your neck, you could have cried again. But you knew better than to ruin the moment, and relaxed your frame against his, drifting to sleep.

___

You woke up to the sound of crashing waves and hollers from beachgoers off in the distance. You were in a big, empty bed, delicately tucked beneath covers you never remembered reaching for. When you registered George's absence, you took a moment to recall everything that happened last night.

How Colin had taken one last petty shot at getting a rise out of you. How you tried to give in to Aureo, and how the night ended without much of a bang. How you crashed into George's room, babbling confessions, all of them falling flat at your feet even though George was kind enough to pull you close, even just for a moment.

You heaved a heavy sigh, pushing yourself from the bed that wasn't yours, and slipping into the bathroom unnoticed. You brushed your teeth, and tightened the sheer cardigan around you that was meant to cover your skimpy outfit meant for last night, that you didn't even give a damn about anymore.

You found George happily humming away in the kitchen, making breakfast with some ingredients you'd picked up from La Boqueria days before.

You planned to silently sulk across the way to your room, but George stopped you, turning from the stove like a worried mother, informing he was making the best breakfast of his life and you'd be a fool to miss out. You knew that.

"I'm not hungry." 

You were embarrassed. You floated away from the kitchen to your bedroom, wondering if you should start to pack your things. You hadn't expected the trip to be perfect, but you'd hardly prepared for it to go as wrong as it had.

You gathered a handful of discarded dresses, turning to find your suitcase, when you heard George ease into the room.

"What are you doing?"  He asked in a hush.

"Packing." George stepped closer, halting in front of you. He looked right at you while he took the dresses from your grasp, discarding them on the floor. Funny, you finally got him to throw your clothes somewhere behind you. He was wearing that look again, the one that made your heart speed up and the world slow down all at once.

"I shouldn't have said anything at all last night, let alone freaked out. I'm sorry." You shied away from his gaze, feeling like a little girl. George let you but slowly moved to see your face once more.

"I'm sorry. I was afraid you were just... I don't know... not thinking clearly."

"Why are you sorry? I wasn't drunk, George. I was just being honest." You look down, feeling sick about how vulnerable you'd been. You sucked in a breath as you moved away in a daze, heading toward the desk where your suitcase was nestled in the corner. You couldn't think with George looming over you with his sleep tangled hair and intense expressions.

As you traced your fingers along the grain of the desk you gazed out of the window to a palm tree that covered much of the view of the beach.

"Y/n..." 

George's voice crept up the back of your spine. You turned from the desk, gripping the edge for security as George came to face you again. 

How had you ended up here? Thoughts flickered into your head but flickered away when George locked his dazzling blue eyes with yours. He placed either of his hands on the side of the desk just beside where yours found real estate. George was eye level with you now and he was searching your face with his starry eyes that were closer than ever. And slow, like sunrise, he leaned in closer.

George pressed his lips against yours as slowly and sweetly as he'd kissed your temple last night. Before you could lose yourself to the feeling, you rose a hand to George's chest and held it there, so he hesitantly pulled away.

"Please don't kiss me just because I asked you too." You sighed, eyes still screwed shut. You could have done that one thousand more times, but not out of pity. When you dared to open your eyes, you found George patiently waiting to meet your gaze.

"I wanted to." George spoke, softly. "I've wanted to kiss you like that since you freaked out on the plane to Rome. I wanted to kiss you at all those museums and every time you've told a lame joke since then. And I'll still want to kiss you when we get back home. I like you, too."

George echoed your monologue from the night before, with his own twist. His voice was low and gentle but full of assuredness. His eyes stayed glued on yours while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as he went on speaking. And when he was finished, you just stood there, gaping at him. Trying to wrap your head around his words and the action preceded them.

George looked at you in that way he did. In that way no one ever had before.

Lifting his hand toward your face, he slowly trailed a finger across your jaw, letting his thumb land on your chin. Your lips subtly parted, and George fixed his gaze on your mouth as a smirk bloomed across his. Then, he leaned in to kiss you again. But this time was very different. Your mouths opened against each other's and your fingers unlatched from their grip on the table behind you.

Your fingers curled around his neck as George let his fingers slowly creep down your sides, until they reached your hips. Without breaking the kiss, he shifted you onto the desk you leaned against, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a gesture you'd been dreaming of that was far more electric than your imagination made it out to be.

"I'm sorry it took me till now to do this." George breathed, his lips brushing against yours not daring to miss a second of contact.

"Better late than never, huh?" You grinned, nudging your nose against George and looking up into his pretty eyes.

"That's the spirit." He chuckled softly, barely finishing the sentence before his lips were on yours again. One of his hands stayed pressed against your back, assuring you were held against him, while his other tangled in your hair.  George kissed you in a way that made you wonder what you'd been doing till now.

"I never dreamed you'd wanted more than wreckless fun." George spoke, as he trailed his kisses down your neck. And though you weren't too keen to stop his actions, his words held more of an impact.

You grabbed a handful of George's golden hair and pulled to make his eyes look right in yours.

"I do want to have wreckless fun. With you. For a long, long time." You confessed. No more secretly longing gazes and careful touches, hoping your multitude of feelings might have been conveyed.  

"So back to London together it is then, yeah?" George picked you up from the desk with a cheeky grin.

"Just long enough to plan our next adventure." You suggested through a giggling as he tossed you onto the bed you'd been occupying.

George smiled the loveliest smile you'd ever seen as he crawled over the top of you and reached for the string that tied your coverup together.

"Shall we pick up where we left off then?" George leaned in to purr in your ear, letting his fingers trail across your thigh.  

How was something so new and exciting so familiar? You decided not to think about it, and dove back in for another kiss.

___

That's how you spent the rest of the day and the entire night, never too far from right beside George. As your reality settled into the daydream scenario you never expected to come true, you found nothing much had really changed.

You'd spent this whole trip together, consulting over the best wine to order over dinner and arguing over what the best tv show of all time was. So while spending a day in bed at George's side left you starry-eyed, his company was familiar. And that was the best part of all.

You went on, making each other laugh like normal. Sharing old forgotten stories and thinking up new ones. George listened, as you whispered into the late, late night, like kids at a slumber party.

Waking up to his limbs pinning you lazily to the mattress even felt familiar, like something you should have been used to for a while now.

And reluctant as you both were to come out from under the sheets, it was your last full day in Barcelona. So after some careful consideration over breakfast coffee, you and George picked a handful of things to do from the list you'd created months in advance.

The first stop was lunch. You would miss the food in Spain most of all. You even took a few photos of the beautifully plated tapas you'd ordered and posted it to Instagram right away, using some over the top caption and everything.

After a frustrating morning chat, your bank informed you that it would be a few business days until your account was all sorted out. So, because of that and the fact that you only had a few euros left, you let George pay for lunch, who acted as if his evil plan had come to fruition. He'd hadn't stopped trying to cover bills since the first night in Rome.

Then you proceeded to muck about the city like kids on a residential trip. You went from hilltops to fountains to a couple of markets you'd been to before, marveling over all the sights and sounds of the city. You took more photos during the afternoon romp through the city than you had the whole trip. You sent some straight to Instagram and some to your mother. But mostly, you tossed your phone right back in your bag so you could turn your attention to George. To focus on the way his smile grew while he spoke, before laughing too hard to finish his sentence. To revel in the feeling of his hand holding yours. Feeling a little luckier every time he stole a kiss in quiet parts of art galleries and around city street corners.

He eventually coaxed you into a big fancy dinner you absolutely couldn't afford, taking a long way there to enjoy the last purply golden sunset in Barcelona. The sun beamed across streets, like it didn't dare go down without a fight. In between a designer clothing shop and another row of businesses covered in blossoming vines, George stalled, turning to face you.

"Stay right here." He held your shoulders in place nodding before rushing out of view. You laughed to yourself, standing in the place you'd been made to. Before you could get lost in thoughts of how lucky this trip turned out to be, George came back around the corner with two strangers in tow.

He enlisted them to take a photo of the two of you together, George explaining that the one from outside the museums in Rome wasn't enough. You handed your phone to the older gentleman George had roped into being your photographer while his wife stood looking at a map, glancing up to smile at you all every now and again. George wasn't even looking toward the camera when it came time to.  

The old man took surprisingly good snapshots, you found, after thanking him for taking a minute to indulge George. He really was hard to say no to. There were four photos, each great from the start, better than the last. They featured George with one arm loosely wrapped around you, his focus on you entirely. You tried, but clearly couldn't quite look at the camera either, with the way George’s smile drew you in. They weren't quite candid, with the way George must have planned to be so engrossed by you.

"These are the best so far." You hummed, scrolling to admire them each.

"I have no idea if they're Instagram worthy or not, but I like them very much."

"Oh, Insta would eat these up." You laughed, but you really do mean it. They were perfectly rose-colored on their own, no filter needed. After tossing your phone away, you'd started your walk back up, the big fancy restaurant you'd choosen for dinner coming into view in the horizon.

"Then you should post them," George said, keeping his pace in time with yours, nearly to the doors of the last stop on your getaway. You figured you'd be sad when the night wound to an end. But something magnificent burned below the surface, a promise that this was only the beginning of better days.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't mind?" You asked cautiously. George had steered clear of social media for a reason. Posting something that so blatantly put George on display seemed sinful, especially regarding the photos in question; with the way you were attached to his hip. Posting those was a very big deal for a multitude of reasons.

"Well someone's gotta get the word out that we're a packaged deal now, and I'm not very well equipped. I could phone the paparazzi, since I'm so bloody famous and all, but I'd rather not." George boasted, climbing the steps of the big fancy restaurant with a coy grin on his pretty face.

"Wow. You really are lame." You joked, nudging his shoulder with yours as you passed through the golden entryway.

After you ordered meals, you opened your favorite application and fretted over a caption for the photos you were about to post. The photos of you and George bathed in the setting sunlight, your smiles somehow the brighter.

George helped, well, he made you laugh. And after tossing out a dozen ridiculous quips, you decided to keep all your best one-liners and let the photos speak for themselves. And on the walk back to the hotel you phoned your mother to save her from having a cow when you showed up at the airport with George still by your side.

Because it had been settled, over late-night conversation that slipped into a recurring topic during the day. George would come home with you. He kept saying something about not wanting to waste another secomd sitting far apart in the same room. He kept saying how lucky he felt to have you, how he'd always hoped the outcome of your acquaintance would blossom into something more. How he felt like he'd been waiting for you longer than he knew your name.

George rambled about his future. About some of the films, he was up for. How far away he'd be for some of them. He asked you to join him. To stay for a while, wherever he ended up. How he wanted you to be a part of his life.

You agreed without having to think too much about it. You always wanted someone to see the world with. You always wanted to greet someone at the end of long days. You couldn't see your future without George. You could hardly remember how you managed life before him, anyway.

On the plane back home, you were both too busy dreaming up your lives together to freak out when the ride rocketed into the sky. You watched the same movie and got shushed by the same businessman when your laughter got too loud.

And when you sleepily lingered at the baggage claim with your head rested on George's shoulder, nothing felt new and exciting. It felt normal and right.

And when you spotted your mother waiting for you in the pickup area, she was all smiles. You hadn't expected her to freak out, but you were a little nervous that she'd make much too big of a deal about who you were bringing home. But she looked calm, content even, when she reached out to greet you with a hug.

"Mom, this is George." You turned to the man in question, watching his ocean eyes linger on you for a beat as his grin stretched into a smile.

"I know." Your mother smiled too, then turned to him, reaching out for a hug. "I've read all about you in the papers and things." She chuckled just as George happily hugged her back.

You and George both threw your heads back in a shared bout of laughter. Your mother worried that she'd said something wrong, but you just assured her that George was even better in real life than all his charming interviews.

On the ride home, you fill her in on some of the details of your wild trip. George did too, and when he spoke you could tell your mother started to understand what you said at the airport. How George's complex expressions and soft-spoken manner weren't something you could properly capture on a morning talk show. How his presence seemed magical. How whatever you might expect him to say was never what you got, but better.

He made everything better. Even the things you couldn't seem to find the good parts of. Even the demolished bits of planning that remained of what was meant to be your honeymoon. 

You found out that everything happened how it was supposed to. Even though going home to what you left behind seemed daunting and dense with negativity, there was a bright shining silver lining beaming from the smile George wore when you made him laugh over and over on the way home, together.

───※ ·❆· ※───

[runswith]

Travel notes: Barcelona,. Entry 3 - April 19, 2004

During my brief stay in Barcelona: every single Metro ride featured at least one performance by a street musician. Every single ride. Sometimes one individual would finish up, get out at a station, another would immediately replace them, often launching into "Those Were The Days." (If I had a euro for every time I've heard a busker play "Those Were The Freakin' Days," I'd have enough money to bribe at least one of the bastards to learn something else.)

Not only did every Metro ride come with musical accompaniment, the overwhelming percentage of the musicians were accordion players. Carting their instruments from coach to coach, finding a place to stand. Calling out a fast, mumbled intro, launching into a number.

There are days here in Madrid when Metro buskers abound, others when transit is more or less tune-free. Solo performers often board a train at one station, do a fragment of a song, make a fast pass through the coach for change, disappear at the next station. Many of the performers in Barcelona continued playing through three or four stations, playing numbers from beginning to end, sometimes doing a medley of three or four pieces.

I hopped a train Saturday morning, found myself in a comfortably crowded coach. At one end of the car stood an accordionist, playing quietly – a cadaverous individual:  face gaunt, expression strangely somber, clothes neat though frayed. Tottering a few slow paces back and forth as his hands worked away at a soiled, tired-looking Hohner, wheezing out the single most funereal tune I've ever heard a street musician play. Producing an uncomfortable vibe -- dark, tinged with an uncomfortable something that was hard to identify. Anger maybe, or reproach. It felt subtly aggressive, whatever it was. As the train pulled into the next station, he made a slow pass through the car, holding out a small container for change. No passengers ponied up, he disappeared quietly out the door. Before the train got underway again another musician appeared, his energy lighter, his expression relaxed, his music sunnier. Everyone in the coach seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, many handing over coins when he finished up.

Later that day, during yet another Metro ride, an accordion player stepped into the car, found a place to stand, called out a short intro, began playing Bach's Toccata and Fugue. Pretty decent rendition, though a bit more antic than that piece generally sounds (coming as it did from an accordion). He turned out to be one of those players who commits to a full performance, producing a smooth medley of four different numbers -- two classical, two jazz standards. Appearing happy to be where he was, cranking out tunes with the flair of an accomplished musician.

Saturday evening, my final Metro ride of the day:  yet another accordionist finished up yet another rendition of "Those Were The Days," then slipped out of the coach. A man and woman replaced him, lugging a sound system strapped onto a handtruck. Him: nondescript, dressed neatly, taking care of the equipment, handing her a microphone. Her: tall, slim, Eastern European, wearing a red sweatsuit, face handsome with bone structure to burn. He cranked up the sound system, the instrumental track for a Celine Dion number got underway. She started to sing, the lyrics translated into an eastern European language. A genuinely lovely voice. I couldn't get around being trapped in a subway train with a loud rendition of a Celine Dion song, though, and stepped briskly out onto the platform at my station, happy to be free.

A number of the Metro stations I changed trains in required a major hike to get from one line to another, commonly including treks along lengthy, featureless passageways. The public transport version of a sensory-deprivation tank. Management's solution: small speakers mounted into the walls pumping in muzak, orchestral renditions of pleasantly innocuous tunes. An approach I've never encountered anywhere else. Made me feel like I should be shopping.

Saturday evening, back out on the street -- post-Gaudí, post-Metro, post-cybercafés -- walking through the narrow, winding vias of the city's older quarters. Lovely architecture everywhere, both simple and extravagant, the passageways filling up with the Saturday night mix of locals and tourists. Me searching for somewhere to get a meal, every restaurant I looked into packed, many with folks waiting outside for a table.

A sign at the doorway to a small local bar caught my attention, advertising bocadillos at decent prices. A couple of barstools sat vacant, I stepped inside, claimed one, ordered a bocadillo and a caña (a sandwich on a baguette & a small glass of beer). The rear half of the bar -- a long, narrow space with televisions mounted at either end -- seethed with a crowd of college-age males, some sporting soccer jerseys, some with faces painted, a few sporting glittery long-haired wigs. A glance at the nearer television showed a match just getting underway, and I remembered it was the night of the derby, the game between Madrid's two A-level fútbol teams, Real Madrid and Atlético Madrid. The fútbol rivalry between Real Madrid and Barcelona is the most intense in Spain, I hadn't really expected to find folks in Cataluña paying much attention to a match between two teams from Madrid. Silly me. Fútbol is fútbol (a message I should already have gotten, that phrase being the name of a popular TV show, a Sunday night wrap-up of the week's Spanish league matches -- Fútbol es Fútbol).

As the match's first half progressed, the joint gradually filled up. A 50-something couple presided behind the bar, the man an earnest, good-humored individual, the woman a grizzled survivor with a thick head of reddish-brown hair and the bosoms of a Valkyrie. A cheerful working class couple hove up to my right, taking possession of the single available stool there. I shifted to the empty stool on my left so that they each had a perch, instantly making friends of the couple, who talked happily away with accents thick enough that I found it impossible to understand everything they said above the bar's swelling noise level.

A 14 or 15-year-old -- apparently with some connection to the male of the working class couple -- appeared at some point, hovering near us, watching the match, until the woman behind the counter spotted Mr. Underage and yelled at him to get the hell out of there, clearly meaning business, the scolding continuing without pause until the kid gave up and slouched outside into the pedestrian way. He disappeared for a while, then reappeared, edging back into the crowd to watch the match, until the woman in charge caught sight of him again, producing an even more intense stream of verbiage, hands making emphatic gestures, mouth opening wide enough as she yelled that I could see all the way back in there to the little fleshy punching bag hanging in the entranceway to her throat. The kid gave up, shoulders slumping, and fled out into the night. I paid up and did the same.

Next morning: dragged myself out of bed, pulled on clothes, grabbed bags, ran out the door. Found myself shortly after on a train making the long ride back to Madrid.

Hours later, stumbled in my door and fell into bed, appreciating quiet instead of drunken revelry happening out on the streets. Slept through the night, woke up next morning in my own bed.  Feeling so glad to be home. 

[chocolatequeennk]

As Long As We Both Shall Live, 3/3

The Doctor has always wanted to share a telepathic bond with Rose Tyler, and now he finally has the chance. But, as always, the universe has a surprise in store for them.

Tentoo x Rose, telepathic bonding with Bad Wolf

This is part of Two Hearts, One Life, and it fills the alien beaches prompt from @doctorroseprompts this week.

It’s also a birthday present for @lastbluetardis. Happy Birthday, Ashley!

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1 | Ch 2

Rose was surprised when the Doctor hustled her towards the TARDIS the next morning after a campfire breakfast. “We’re not going to stay here? Go hiking, see a waterfall, that kind of thing?”

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, and Rose blinked when she picked up on his indecision over the bond. It almost felt like her own emotion, and she realised it was going to take some time to learn to keep that straight.

He smiled gently and wrapped his arms around her. That’s why we’re taking a proper honeymoon, he told her as he nuzzled into her neck. It’s a lot to get used to.

Rose sighed and leaned back against his chest, relishing the warm glow of his mind in hers. Yeah, it is… but I’ve got you to teach me, right? She closed her eyes so she could focus on their connection, and when it felt real in her mind, she imagined herself running a gentle touch over it.

The warmth deepened, and the arms around her waist pulled her closer. Not sure you’ll need much teaching, the Doctor mused, his telepathic voice a soft mixture of surprise and delight. You’re already more skilled than any beginning telepath I’ve ever encountered.

Rose turned in his arms and looped her arms loosely around his neck. Oh… I think there are some things you could still teach me, she purred.

The Doctor’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yep!” he squeaked. “Much more skilled. And as much as I would love to undertake those… lessons with you, I do have plans for the day.”

Rose smirked at him, then stepped back and let him regain his composure. “Which reminds me… about staying here?” The crisp mountain air wafted over them, smelling sweet and fresh this morning, inviting them to linger.

He sighed and looked around at the empty campsite. “Well… We could always come back at the end of our honeymoon for a few days?” he suggested. “I have other plans for the next two weeks, though.”

His eagerness finally sparked her own desire to explore, and she nodded. “All right,” she said and followed him onto the ship.

He grinned as he sent the TARDIS off to their next destination. “You are going to love what I have planned, Rose Tyler.”

“Probably,” she agreed. The TARDIS shook, and Rose grabbed onto the railing to stay upright. “I love most things you plan.”

The Doctor’s face lit up, and the rush of joy over the bond made Rose giggle. “You knew that, didn’t you?” He shrugged and his face turned pink, and Rose smiled fondly at him. “Well, I do. Even when they don’t turn out exactly the way you thought they would, I love the thought you put into things.”

The TARDIS landed before the Doctor could reply, and Rose furrowed her brow at the slightly… squishy feeling of the landing. “It feels like we just sank into something,” she said uncertainly.

The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded at the door. “Take a look,” he invited.

Rose raised an eyebrow, then turned around and pulled the door open an inch. When sunlight trickled in through the crack in the door, she opened it all the way, gasping when she saw the sunlight sparkling on the turquoise water, only fifty feet away.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous.” Rose’s feet sank slightly into the sand when she stepped onto the beach, and she realised that was what had felt off about their landing. She took a deep breath and savoured the heady floral perfume and the tang of salt air. Behind her, she heard the TARDIS door latch, and then the Doctor took her hand.

“I thought you’d like a beach holiday for our honeymoon.”

“It’s perfect,” she promised him. “And you parked right on the water, so we have a beachfront view the whole time we’re here.”

A hint of something trickled over the bond, and Rose looked up at him. “Doctor?”

“Well… We do have a beachfront property,” he agreed. “But what would you say if I told you it was that one?” He used their joined hands to point at the closest house, a small cottage with a deck that ran the entire length of the back of the house.

“Really?”

The Doctor nodded and tugged her towards it. “Yep! One beach house, complete with a fire pit on the deck and a jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom. And gorgeous views of the ocean from nearly every room of the house,” he added as they climbed the steps to the back entrance.

Rose sighed happily when they stepped through the sliding glass doors into the lounge/dining room. Most of the interior was done in the classic beach house shades of white and light blue, and she felt the cares of their life at home melt away in the soothing atmosphere.

The Doctor held up the bag she hadn’t noticed he carried and pointed at the stairs. “I’ll just take this up to our room, and then we can walk into town.”

Rose looked down at the jeans and hiking boots she wore. “Oh, if we’re going to explore a beach town, I’m changing first,” she declared.

She followed him up the stairs and quickly changed into a white-and-red polka dotted sundress and laced up a pair of red low-top Chucks. Then she grabbed her bag and gave the Doctor a cheeky smile. “Last one out the front door is buying the first ice creams,” she called out as she darted down the stairs.

“Oi! You are a cheater, Rose Tyler!” he hollered as he chased after her.

Outside, with victory hers, Rose clasped her hands behind her back and smiled innocently at him as he wagged his finger at her. “Cheaters never prosper,” he warned as he locked the door with his sonic screwdriver.

Rose winked at him. “Maybe not, but we do get ice cream.” She took his hand and laced their fingers together. “Come on, husband,” she said, trying out the word for the first time and loving the way it sounded. “Show me the sights.”

“This way, wife,” the Doctor said, a rumble in his voice that sent a delicious shiver down Rose’s back.

She sighed happily and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked along a street that ran parallel to the shore. The sea air was invigorating, and Rose could easily see why the Doctor had been so determined to come here today instead of staying on Iastea.

The sound of dogs barking caught her attention, and she lifted her head from his shoulder as a man rounded the corner, being led by three eager dogs. She smiled, then blinked when a detail caught her attention. Three eager dogs with no noses.

“Barcelona?” she asked, looking up at the Doctor, who was now wearing his “I’m so impressive” smile. The satisfaction coming over the bond was so strong she could almost taste it.

“Well,” he drawled, “technically this is Sevilla. Another minor difference between this universe and our own.”

Rose shook her head and laughed softly. “Is the planet mostly like you remember, other than the name?”

The Doctor nodded. “Oh, yes. About the same size as Earth, with all major climate zones. I picked a small, sub-tropical city renowned for excellent food and better weather.”

As the beach houses lining the street gave way to shops, Rose asked the question that had been in the back of her mind all week. “How’d you convince Dad to let us have two weeks off, with only a week’s notice?”

Mischief pulsed over the bond, and Rose looked up at her husband. “Doctor?”

“First, I pointed out that it was in the interest of family harmony, since you were likely to get into a major row with your mum if she kept meddling in our wedding plans. And then…” He smirked down at her. “I promised we weren’t running off to elope.”

Rose stared at him for a moment, then tipped her head back and laughed until tears were streaming down her face. “Oh, my  God!” she wheezed as she tried to catch her breath. “Doctor!”

“Well, technically we didn’t,” he pointed out logically. “We aren’t legally married as far as the People’s Republic is concerned.”

Rose shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. “And I suppose what he really wanted to know was if we were gonna come back and refuse to let Mum have her wedding.” She pushed herself up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Still. I love you.”

The Doctor hummed happily. Rose would have gone in for a proper kiss, but something tugged her attention away from him, like she’d seen something out of the corner of her eye. She turned slightly, trying to find the colour or motion that had distracted her, but there was nothing…

Then she felt it again, and she realised it wasn’t something visual. It was a ripple in time, beckoning her forwards. She focused on the feeling, and after a moment of trying, a faint trail of golden specks appeared, floating in midair and leading her on.

The Doctor frowned when Rose suddenly pulled back instead of kissing him, but then he picked up on her distraction and watched as she scanned the street with the keen eyes of a Torchwood agent. A moment later, surprise jolted through him when he felt her tap into her time sense with a dexterity that shouldn’t have been possible for someone just learning the skill.

Excitement buzzed over the bond when she found was she was looking for, and she smiled up at him as she took his hand. “Come on, Doctor!” she said as she tugged him down the street.

Despite never having been in this city before, Rose led them straight to the main shopping district, not stopping until she reached a small shop that he was certain they would have walked right by. Standing in front of the door painted a familiar shade of blue, the Doctor could feel the tug of the timelines now, too. It was no surprise to either of them when they spotted a small sign in the window, proudly declaring that the shop sold Bad Wolf Designs.

“Well,” the Doctor said as he reached for the door. “Shall we see what you left for us here?”

“Can I help you?” asked the shopkeeper, perched on a stool behind the counter.

The Doctor watched Rose study the shop, and he shook his head. “No… I’m not sure what we’re here for, but we’ll know it when we see it.”

The woman’s brow furrowed in confusion, but then she relaxed again, probably figuring that if they weren’t going to ask for help, there was no point in looking like she was ready to jump up.

The shop was narrow, with racks of clothes down both sides and one row of tables running down the centre aisle. Rose was working her way down the right side of the building, passing by the merchandise with only a cursory glance. With his hands in his pockets, the Doctor meandered over to the left side of the room, paying more attention to the way his time senses were tingling than to the clothes themselves.

Just past the counter, something caught his eye. A manic grin crossed his face when he pulled a long, brown coat off a high rack. “Rose, I found it!” he called out, spinning around to show her.

As he turned, he felt her awe and excitement spike, and he wasn’t surprised that she had her own find in her hands. When he saw the dress, its deep navy blue satin skirt covered in hundreds of beaded stars, his mouth fell open.

“Rose, it’s—”

“Your coat.”

“Your wedding dress.”

They looked at each other and laughed when they finished the sentence at the same time.

“That is stunning, Rose,” the Doctor said, reaching out to touch the delicate, almost sheer fabric of the bodice.

“Mum’s gonna have kittens ‘cause it’s not white, but I don’t care.” Rose traced the swirl of stars on the skirt. “Time and space, Doctor. That’s our life.”

The swirl of golden light in Rose’s eyes captivated the Doctor, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to look forward along their timeline, taking a glimpse of their future, walking together in stardust. He pulled himself away before he could see many details—life was so much more fun if it was lived day by day.

“Yeah,” he agreed, feeling breathless. “It’s our life together.”

Rose smiled, then gestured at the coat he’d almost forgotten about. “Does it fit?”

The Doctor grinned and swung the overcoat around dramatically, rocking back on his heels when the familiar weight settled on his shoulders. He stuck his hands in the pockets and made a face.

“Not bigger on the inside, but I can fix that.” He adjusted the lapels, then nodded in satisfaction. “It’s just like my coat.”

“Then I think we’re ready to go, don’t you?”

“Don’t you want to try the dress on?” the shopkeeper suggested.

The Doctor and Rose shared a smile. “No need,” he told her as he pulled out a credit stick. “I think Bad Wolf Designs made these just for us.”

“An’ besides,” Rose added, teasing him with a tongue-touched smile. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony.”

oOoOoOoOo

To Rose’s surprise, after their return home as a bonded couple, her fights with her mum over wedding details calmed down. The colour of the flowers, or the size of the reception… those things just didn’t matter to her, now that she and the Doctor were already tied together as intimately as was possible. They had hundreds of years and all of time and space at their fingertips—if they wanted to plan a wedding more to their own tastes later, nothing would stop them.

They were implacable on two points: Rose would wear the dress she’d found on Sevilla, and at least one layer of the wedding cake would be banana flavoured. Other than that, they gave Jackie free rein to plan the wedding she’d always wanted to give Rose.

And staring down the long aisle on her father’s arm, Rose had to admit that her mum had outdone herself. She clutched the elegant all-white bouquet as the music started, then took her first step onto the white runner that ran the length of the aisle.

The Doctor’s happiness glowed in her mind. You are so gorgeous, Rose, he told her as soon as he could see her.

Rose admired the sharp cut of his navy blue tux. You’re not looking too shabby either.

When Rose reached the end of the aisle and took the Doctor’s hand, his presence in her mind deepened. The bond beckoned to them both, and it was hard to focus on the wedding ceremony going on around them, instead of their own private conversation. Rose fidgeted impatiently while the minister rambled about the importance and solemnity of marriage and the lifelong commitment they were about to enter.

But then it was time. She handed her bouquet to her maid of honour and faced the Doctor, taking both of his hands in hers. He grinned and bounced on his toes, eliciting a chuckle from the minister.

Then the man cleared his throat and said, “Doctor, why have you come here on this day?”

“I came here today to take Rose Tyler to be my wife.” He ran a gentle caress over the bond, along with a whisper of an endearment. Then he continued, his next words all for her. “Rose, I promise to love, honour, and cherish you through all that life may bring—for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. I promise to be faithful to you…”

He paused, and the fire in his eyes made Rose’s breath catch.

“As long as we both shall live.”

[postcards-fromafar]

Granada

We left Barcelona on Christmas morning and flew to Granada, which is in Andalusia. Initially drawn there by the allure of the Alhambra, we were delighted to find winding, twisting, streets in the Albaícin neighborhood to explore, Moorish architecture reminiscent of our time in Morocco, and glasses of wine for 2 euros with accompanying free tapas. 

Highlights

-Fantastic views from our Airbnb in the Albaícin neighborhood- The views made up for the strenuous hike to get there!

-Flamenco show- We went to Restaurant Jardines de Zoraya Tablao on Christmas night to enjoy a traditional flamenco show. Those dancers get quite a workout with all the intense feet tapping they do!

-Mirador de San Nicolás- On our list to do, but we ended up stumbling by it on accident on our way to dinner the first night. Great views of the Alhambra. 

-Royal Chapel and Cathedral de Granada- We did an audio guided tour through here. One of the most interesting parts (for me at least) was to see the places where some of the royals are entombed. 

-Private tour at the Alhambra- We were a little late to the game on booking tickets for the Alhambra so ended up needing to book a private tour in order to visit- in this case, our procrastination paid off! I’m someone who has a hard time staying focused and engaged when viewing sites like this on my own or with an audio guide. Fortunately our guide was fantastic; having Jorge point things out and explain historical and architectural details was hugely helpful and kept me interested. He was also very engaging and smart (the man speaks six languages!). 

The Alhambra itself was stunning. Originally designed for the military, the Alhambra has served as a fortress, palace, and small medina. It was the last remaining Moorish stronghold, then when the Catholic monarchs arrived and took over in 1492, it became a Christian court. 

-Strolling around Granada, both on our own and with the free walking tour - You never knew what you would find around the next corner! 

-Being weird with family- see below. 

Bummers

-Granada was COLD in the mornings! It got to the 50s midday and was pleasant in the sun, but it was difficult to leave the Airbnb in the morning when it was so dark and chilly. Our Airbnb also didn’t have central heat, so while the bedrooms would get warm with the heaters, walking to the bathroom was a frigid expedition. 

-We stayed up in the Albaícin neighborhood, which happens to be up a steep hillside. We did not look into altitude changes prior to booking so were caught unprepared. While Dan, Gabe, and I were fine with our backpacks and were able to make the (albeit challenging) uphill hike, it was not happening for the rest of our crew. Dan’s parents and Katrina had big rolling suitcases, and there was just no way those were going to make it uphill over the cobblestones. We ended up hailing a taxi for them, much to the amusement of the taxi driver.

Eats

-Churros and chocolate at Churreria Alhambra- We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have more churros and chocolate, and this was the first time Dan’s parents and siblings had it for the trip. We had a heaping platter brought out and then each got our own mug of steaming chocolate. 

-Tapas + drinks for cheap at La Sitarilla- This place was recommended by our friend Caitlin and didn’t open until 8:30pm. When we initially arrived (right at 8:30- such Americans), we didn’t even think it was open. We ended up being one of the first groups in and camped out in a corner. A short while later, the place was PACKED with locals- it’s a good thing we came when we did! The drinks were fabulously cheap (2 euros each for beer, wine) and with each drink, you got a very generous tapa (usually some sort of rich, meaty dish designed to absorb the booze). We happily ate and drank our way to what we considered a dinner. When we left, the bill was only about 42 euros for all 6 of us. 

-Really tasty meal Restaurante El Trillo- Recommended by Jorge, every person in our group had an absolutely fabulous meal at this restaurant.  

Drinks

-Wine, wine, wine- Definitely drank more wine than water on this trip, as you don’t get free water with your meals then way you do back in the US. 

-Dan found it refreshing to be back in a country where you can just ask for “cerveza” and they hand you whichever local beer they have. 

People

-The Jacobs Crew- We didn’t meet any new people while in Granada but got lots of good quality family time. Our favorite group activities in Granada were the Alhambra guided tour and our wine and tapas experiences together!

-Jorge- Our aforementioned Alhambra tour guide. He was great!

Observations and Insights

-Finding lunch on Christmas day was difficult, as most places were closed. We ended up with reheated frozen pizza and a giant plate of fried calamari at a small restaurant/bar.

Tips

-If you’re on a budget, just find the right place and get a couple drinks! They will bring delicious tapas with each drink.

[180abroad]

Day 189: All Good Things

Finally, after more than six months abroad, the end of our adventure was upon us. Jessica and I had spent 189 nights in 48 different rooms, but after rising from our beds this morning, we would not lay our heads to rest until they were reunited with the long longed-for pillows of our own beds back home.

But we still had half a day to kill before our flight, so we figured we might as well explore some more of Reykjavik while we had the chance.

The Church of Hallgrimur proved just as stunning in the light of morning as it had in the evening two nights earlier.

Just downhill from the church is an area known as the Neighborhood of the Gods---so called because all of the streets are named for Norse mythological figures like Odin, Loki, and Thor.

(The Icelandic letter “Þ” is equivalent to the English “th,” so Þorsgata means Thor’s Street.)

Like I said, we had time to kill.

We saw some of the older buildings in the center of Reykjavik dating back to the late 1800s. (When it comes to architecture, at least, Iceland is on the same time scale as California.) But what really stood out to us were the statues---some more explicable than others.

Behind the memorial to the Unknown Bureaucrat, we came upon the Tjornin---a serene, glassy pond in the middle of the city.

The Tjornin is famously full of birds well fed with tourist bread (though still no match for the swans of Stratford-upon-Avon). Jessica and I laughed to see Nic receive a small measure of the avian intimidation tactics we were faced with back on our way to Liverpool from Wales.

Truly, when you stare into the eyes of a waiting duck, it is the void that stares back.

Next, we took a nice stroll along the Reykjavik harbor before stumbling onto an indoor flea market that's only open on the weekend.

Wandering back into town, we spotted another statue at the top of a hill, so naturally we climbed up to see it. It turned out to be a statue of Ingolfur Arnarson, the Viking captain who first colonized Iceland and gave Reykjavik its name, which means "Smoky Bay."

From the top of the hill, we had a decent view of the surrounding cityscape. Reykjavik is definitely a city on the rise. Construction and renovation projects were underway everywhere we went.

We still had a couple hours left to kill, so we went back to the main tourist street and did some window shopping.

There was one incredibly cheesy but impressively committed Viking-themed souvenir shop, as well as a smaller but more interesting shop selling trinkets inspired by Viking culture and mythology. I bought a pack of Norse god themed playing cards, and Jessica got a pack of cards featuring the Yule Lads.

You see, Iceland doesn't just have one Santa Claus, it has 13. The catch? They're a band of impish degenerates with self-explanatory names like Bowl-Licker, Sausage-Swiper, and Window-Peeper.

If for some reason you still want to send these lovely lads your Christmas wishes, you can deposit them in a specially designated mailbox outside the shop.

Finally, after a perfunctory lunch at Subway, we picked up our bags from our host Ingi, then made our way to the pickup spot for the airport shuttle. Somewhat unfortunately, there weren't nearly as many pickup spots as drop-off spots, so we had to walk about a mile across town to the nearest one. Still, it gave us a chance to enjoy the minimalist architecture and brisk subarctic air.

We also discovered that Reykjavik has a Brewdog, the TV-famous Scottish craft brewery that we'd visited with my Dad in Edinburgh.

Keflavik is a pretty small airport, and we'd arrived a couple hours early like we were supposed to. Still, we barely made it through security before our plane started boarding. Icelandair has done a great job of attracting people to Iceland with budget prices and easy stopovers, but it seems like the airport hasn't quite caught up. The people there were perfectly nice and respectably fast, but there were just too many people in line.

In fact, it was so crowded that we barely had time to fill up our water bottles---the line for the fountains was a good five minutes long.

The gates opened on schedule, but it was well past the flight time before they’d finally gotten everyone on board. Icelandair is a good value for the price, and I'd happily fly with them again, but they don't quite seem to have their act together when it comes to scheduling.

Oh well. No harm, no foul.

We walked out onto the tarmac to meet our plane, and I stooped to touch the ground one last time before we left for good. As we buckled up in our seats, it really started to hit us that the trip was really over and we were finally heading home. We didn't know whether to be happy or sad.

The flight was long and uneventful. A nice additional perk of our stopover in Iceland meant that the return flight was a couple hours shorter than our original flight from Oakland to Barcelona. It was still a long flight---9 hours---but when every hour in the air feels longer than the last, the difference between a 9-hour flight and an 11-hour flight is huge.

Of course, it may have helped knowing that we didn't have a full day in a foreign country ahead of us once we landed.

The one somewhat unpleasant surprise was that there was no food service unless you paid. And I'm the sort of cheap jerk who would rather go hungry than pay for mediocre, extortionately priced food.

Finally, we landed in San Francisco, just a few hours after we'd left Iceland, thanks to the time zones. Surprisingly, getting back into the US proved far easier than getting out of it, and we were soon reunited with our parents at the curbside pickup. My uncle Steve---Nic and Jessica's dad---had rented a preposterously large SUV to pick us all up together with my aunt and both my parents.

There were happy tears all around, but by this point the three of us were delirious with hunger and fatigue. At least, I was. And I was too far gone to notice how anyone else was doing.

We were swept away in our big black four-wheel-drive chariot.

We were at Super Taqueria enjoying the burritos we'd been waiting six months for and barely tasting them.

We were at Nic and Jessica's house saying goodbye.

I was home, simultaneously reunited and separated in ways that were perfectly natural and yet somehow strangely new.

I was in bed---in my own bed, with my own sheets and my own pillows---drifting off to sleep, no different than any other night, as if nothing had happened at all.

But it had happened. It had all happened. We have the stories and the pictures and souvenirs to prove it.

Epilogue

It's strange to be back home after all this time, which I guess isn't all that strange. But at the same time, one of the eeriest things is just how easy it was to slip back into all the old routines.

For a while, I felt a bit like Tom Hanks at the end of Cast Away as he looked at all the untouched food on that buffet table at the airport. Only instead of food, it was stuff.

That first night back, as I was getting ready for bed, I had a groaning realization that all my stuff was still packed away in my backpack downstairs. Just as I'd resigned myself to getting it, I realized that I had a drawer full of sleep clothes and a bathroom cabinet with toothbrushes and toothpaste to spare.

Having my desktop again was nice---though it was less nice when I booted it up on my first morning back and remembered that it was perilously near death when I had left it. It would be a frustrating, hours-long process just to get it back into shape, and what I really needed to do was buy a bunch of new parts and rebuild it from the case up.

Why put so much time, effort, and money into a desktop when I'd been perfectly happy with my laptop for the past six months?

Easy: games. And laptops cost more in the long run if you use them all the time. And, and, and…

Still, one of the biggest lessons of the trip for me---apart from opening my mind to other places and cultures---was the realization of just how little stuff we really need to get by. Which is a bit ironic, considering all the cool things I wanted so badly to buy in so many places but didn't have room to carry.

Looking back on the trip, I think we did an impressive job for two introverts who'd never really done anything like this before. I'm glad we got to see so many different places, and Airbnb made an incredible difference in the cost and quality of the trip.

Our parents being able to join us one by one over the course of the trip was also a brilliant idea and an absolute blessing.

If we were to do it again, though, we'd probably do a few things differently. We'd spend more time in fewer cities. Maybe take a weekend here and there. As much as we enjoyed seeing so many different places, it was exhausting and wore on our nerves. I'd also like to try and put myself out there more when it comes to interacting with locals---though that's far outside my comfort zone. And it would be nice to see what some places look like after dark.

And we'd probably skip Lausanne.

But besides that, I'm satisfied with everything we did, even the not-so-good bits. Getting sick in the Sahara and finding ourselves homeless in Rome were terrible experiences, but they're also some of the most vivid and interesting memories of the trip.

Anyway, I guess I'm just rambling now. This story may be over, but I'm sure there will be others to tell soon enough. One thing about living out of a backpack for six months and getting by on hardly any money: it kind of changes your perceptions of what is and isn't possible.

[courtneymayhem]

Found this gem from my trip

March 30, 2017 I am definitely still on CT time even though I only took a short nap when I got here yesterday and went to bed at a decent hour after walking around for 4 hours. I slept until 2 o'clock London time, which is 10am at home. I randomly woke up at 3:30 am and didn't fall asleep until 6am. That's when I sort of decided to skip my Stonehenge day trip. Part of it was avoidance behavior bc I didn't want to interact with my roommates and part of it was discomfort with the idea of navigating so far away from the city. As much as I wanted to see it, I don't really regret sleeping in (a faux pas of traveling). I obviously needed the sleep and I had more time to explore London, which is the reason I am here at all. March 31, 2017 I wanted to walk to Westminster alley and go to the free war museum on the way, but ended up strolling through a beautiful park and ended up walking an hour in the opposite direction through a residential community. I stand by my previous assessment. Observing the locals is by far more stimulating than the tourist spots. Pretty much everyone I met was nice. One gentleman passed by me twice and asked if I lived in the area bc he thought he recognized me. I said no but that we had just walked past each other prior and he smiled and told me to have a nice walk. Wandered around until I wound up in Westminster anyway and only came across two rude Brits. A couple of women who acknowledged my request for directions and proceeded to ignore me. I've seemed to have developed a sense of direction though and didn't need them. The architecture is UNREAL. Dad would love it. My parents are saviors and added the international unlimited plan to my line. It's a little pricey, but essential. I didn't realize how vital my iPhone would be. Citymapper is an absolute lifesaver. And I know my mom tracks my on Find my Friends. My original plan was to buy a local SIM card, as advised by many travel blogs and my cellphone service provider, but it was such a rip off. I misheard the salesman and thought I was getting 1GB of data but it was only 50mb. I used that in one day! And after that I kept getting texts saying the price per additional MB was increasing. Total. B.S. never use Vodafone. April 1, 2017 I continue to wake up at weird hours but am definitely getting better. Had to get up at 830 today to be ready for check out at 10. Hopefully that will put me on a good sleep schedule. And I definitely dehydrated the first two days. I need to be better about filling my water bottles. And eating. I have been in London for...24 hours now, and I have eaten a 6" meatball sub from subway and a chewy granola bar. Half of it was being tired and not hungry and the other part was idk. Currently trying to charge up all my devices. Tourist mistake #1: the outlets here have on/off switches. I have been waiting for my devices to charge for an hour. Never turned on the switch 🙄 glad I have the time to wait. I am going to hop on the bus and check out Buckingham palace before I head to the airport. I have almost all of the money I put in my Oyster card left still bc I have walked everywhere thus far so I want to use it. And I get a little more exploring with limited time. I am only three days into my trip and I already feel like I have learned a lot. Traveling alone is...quiet and a little daunting at times. I have moments of insecurity about my ability to navigate transportation and flights and reservations and money. But it's not as hard as it seems. And I know that I will achieve a new level of confidence by the end of this adventure. I am beginning to realize that this is exactly what I am meant to do at this point in my life. I am where I am supposed to be. *Also April 1, 2017 Jk this day is a wash. Lol. Being my last day in London, I set out to find fish and chips. I have been looking for it since I arrived bc my mom insists that it will change my life, but the tantalizing noms have eluded me. I literally starved myself bc I knew that as soon as I ate something, I would come across it in my travels. FISH AND CHIPS WAS THE ONLY GOAL OF THE DAY! Instead of walking aimlessly, I decided to ride a double decker, an experience in itself. The combination of starvation and motion sickness did me dirty and I puked all over myself and the bus. Luckily my stomach was so empty it was mostly just bile. Obviously I got off the bus. I had to half strip in the street bc the puke got into my camisole and I was in a residential neighborhood with no public restrooms. But I had my whole pack with me so I cleaned myself up pretty well considering. Even that couldn't detour me from my mission to find the fish and chips though and I marched onward. Unfortunately I marched straight into a ghetto ass neighborhood. I didn't feel unsafe per se, but I was definitely on guard. Still, I could find no fish and chips and I worried about my blood sugar so I ate my second subway sub in London. My adventure did bring me to meet a very pleasant gentleman who sat at the table with me. We never even exchanged names, but we talked about the political climate of the world, Brexit and Trump mostly. And when it was clear to him that I was quite lost, he walked me to the train station and directed me to the best route to arrive at Gatwick airport. I had to abandon my fruitless search for fish and chips, but figured it best to cut my losses. I am not even going to bother explaining in detail how I ride the same train up and down the line looking for the airport. It was across the way from a ginormous green field with horses, so of course I was distracted. I got there eventually, and had some pleasant small talk with two beautiful women in the way. Hannah and... I forgot. Hannah reminded me of Caitlin so I remember her. The day continued to suck once I got to the airport. Gatwick has the WORST schematics of any airtime have ever seen. It was hell trying to find the check in counter. Normally I avoid checking in person, and I almost never check luggage, by printing my boarding pass at home, but the airline is Spanish and I couldn't figure out how, even if I did have a printer. Then security tells me I have too many liquids bc they have stricter policies than the US. So I went back to the check in counter. Waited in line. Checked the bag. Had to bring it to the oversized bag place bc it was a backback and might get stuck in the conveyor belt. And all three oversized bag counters had no idea which airline they represented. So that was annoying. AFTER ALL THAT I made it thru security and chilled in the terminal, which looked like a fucking mall and was totally ridiculous, bc the airline wouldn't post the gate for my flight until 30 minutes prior to boarding. Smooth sailing from there tho. Flight was fine. Got my bag and a taxi bc it was too late to try and figure out the transportation. My hostel was...a bit of a startle. I was spoiled in London. At night the location appeared sketchy, and the doorman was...eh. Not rude, but not a ray of sunshine. The key to my door has a certain knack to it that I couldn't really figure out until the next day and the rooms were TINY. Bathrooms weren't a sesspool, nor would I walk barefoot...or touch anything more than necessary. I got a kick out of the shower though. Two tiny little stalls with a curtain for a floor with at least 20 rooms and four people to a room. Fuck modestly tho. A shower is a shower. April 2, 2017 Funny how one day can shake your confidence. I had a sort of crappy day traveling from London to Barcelona yesterday and woke up disheartened today. Didn't really even muster up the enthusiasm to explore until the afternoon. April 3, 2017 Guess I didn't feel like writing yesterday. Glad I got out and about to shake off my funk. Barcelona really is gorgeous!! More beautiful than London by far. I could live very happily here. I only wish Spanish people were friendlier. I smile at people and they give me dirty looks. And the men are pigs. More so than usual. People complain about the prices but I think it's all very reasonable. I bought some fresh fruit, a soda, and a giant bottle of water for 3.4 E and now I'm sitting at a cute little umbrella having the most delicious chicken risotto ever for like ... 13 bucks. Why isn't American food this good?! Even made with frozen veggies, this dish is great. Served under a cabana on a gorgeous strip lined with palm trees. I wasn't particularly hungry but I want to see the nightlife. And show my French roommates that I'm not a shut in. They leave stupid early in the morning and come back crazy late. They probably think I never leave. I obviously do but it's amazing how time slows down when you're exploring. Sometimes it feels like I've been walking around all day but it's only 4 hours. I havent broken my habit of sleeping on. I felt guilty for a while, but I've realized that this is my journey and I can do what I want. I'm not a museum or church touring type. I honestly just enjoy absorbing the atmosphere and casually finding the sights on my own terms. I don't feel rushed and I don't feel like I'm missing out bc so much can be done in a short time. Plus Barcelona never sleeps so I can stay up and out as late as I want. The restaurants don't even close until midnight. The clubs don't even START until 2-3am. Too late for my taste. Thankfully I'm not really a clubber. I haven't even had anything to drink since I left home. It's not in the budget. Speaking of budget, I think I'm doing pretty darn well. All things included I have spent 350 (rounded up about 30 just in case) in 6 days including the first day, which was mostly spent in JFK or in the air. But money was spent so it counts! Well. I have eaten a real meal. Maybe not a traditional Spanish one. Idk. I never know what to order. But I'm going back to my room I think. Tomorrow I should go to the beach. It's literally right down the street. This location really is perfect. April 4, 2017 It wasn't a beach. It was port vell. Which I am only slightly disappointed about. I had no intention of laying on the beach or swimming, but Barcelona has reignited my creativity. I would have love to photograph a beautiful beach. I might attempt to climb montjuic, if I can figure out how to get there. I have heard that it's a brutal climb. Ive also heard the panoramic view is worth the effort. Currently I am sitting on a bench under a balm tree with my back to the ocean eating an orange I bought yesterday. I forgot how much I love the smell of the ocean. So many people are walking by all these beautiful things without really noticing. We take so much for granted in this world. How unappreciative we are to have become desensitized to it all. This is why I wanted to go on this trip. The sights and attractions are great, but it is so rare to find a quiet sense of wonder like I have on a bench at a busy intersection. I crave reaffirmation that life is more than ordinary if I am brave enough to seek out the extraordinary. I want this inner peace to grow strong like a nurtured muscle and always carry it with me. Between the change of diet and exercise, this trip will jump start my journey to a healthier body. And this journal will jump start a a life long journey to a healthier soul. On a lighter subject, my roommates were not French. They were from Belarus and spoke Russian. How I mixed that up I have no idea. They were such a cute couple: Iliad and ??? Literally. They were both hot AF. Their dream is to bike across the US from Atlantic to Pacific. But they left this morning and two new guys checked in. One of them is staying at the hostel bc he just got divorced and was running around to job interviews. Idk anything about the other. He ran away pretty quick. Doubt I'll really get to talk to either bc I'm leaving very late tonight. Sort of dreading the task of finding my way back to the airport. I have spent three days in Barcelona without needing transportation and I would hate to have to purchase a pass now. My moment of introspection is fading. Time to wander some more and continue my quest for inner tranquility. At least I know my way around now without a GPS. I discovered a whole new section of las ramblas! It's all twisty narrow side streets and boutiques. For the first time time flew by. I was in my zone photographing the streets. I love the mix of nature, modern, and traditional. This is probably the main tourist area and I only just discovered it. Lol. It doesn't matter bc nothing caught my eye. Although I did really love this one art gallery I found on a particularly quiet street. It only features local artists and the displays were beautiful! If I had the money and room to show them off I would buy one. I did get a business card however. I also think I made tourist mistake #3. The hostel cleaned out my bunk. I think I was supposed to check out this morning. But whatever. I'm already being charged I'm sure so I might as well stay until tonight. (False: hostel is super chill and let me keep my locker in my room until I'm ready to leave.) I'll chill out at the airport until my flight in the morning. So ready for Paris!! This trip is turning out to be pretty incredible. My favorite spot in Barcelona is a tucked away courtyard garden behind the public library. It smells like jasmine and you can't hear the city. I can tell it is a local hiding spot bc old men come to play life sized chess and students sit on the stone perimeter to do homework. Tourists pass through, but it's too perfect to breeze by IMO. Meandering slowly around the city today has easily been the best of my three days here, each better than the last. Idt it's possible to run out of things to see. Not even tourist areas, but just wandering through the maze of adorable side streets and shops. Every turn is basically a new street but it's impossible to get lost. Technically I didn't "accomplish" anything today, but I think I connected to the city more. Posing in front of monuments does nothing for me. This is where it's at. On the other hand, I'm ready to move on. Barcelona is amazing, but there are many more amazing places to see. Leading up to my departure from the states, everyone kept asking me why I would ever want to travel alone. YOURE A SOLO WOMAN! They would try and reason. Not only does that line of thinking disgust and infuriate me, but I also pity these people. Only someone who has completely shed the comfort of the familiar will understand the freedom that comes with embracing the bumpy road. I've always been laid back, but even I have had to roll with a few punches. Anything can happen: good or bad. It doesn't matter though because it hasn't happened yet. It's awe inspiring to know that I did this. I made this happen. I worked for it, planned it, and I'm doing it. I wish everyone could feel how I feel. It's a subtle, sustaining satisfaction but better than brief bursts of ecstasy. A last minute perusal of las ramblas found a nice Spanish restaurant. It looked authentic like online. Tiny portions of excellent food. Sort of pricey. I got the calamari tapa and 7 rings of fried squid cost 6.5 euros. In all fairness though, it was cut thicker than we do in the US and only lightly battered. It was very good with lemon and I am totally satisfied bc I have eaten close to nothing in a week, with that one exception. I also hailed my first cab! I think I looked like a natural 😉 but I also get the impression that the taxi I took LEAVING the airport when I got here ripped me off. Shouldn't cost 25% more to leave the airport than to get there. Lesson learned. Let's call it travel mistake #4 On to travel mistakes 5 & 6: i messed up the days for my hostel and had to check out (they would have let me stay, but I kinda just wanted to get going) and I got to the airport at 11PM for a 7AM flight. I intended to just nap in the terminal but the airport is taking a siesta. For real. There's no one here. I guess they don't have nighttime flights?!? Whatever. I have my kindle charged and aderall if I need to stay awake. April 5, 2017 Happiness is fleeting so what's the point. Minor existential meltdown in the airport at three AM. Can't decide if any of this is worth it. Enjoying all these beautiful places only really feels good in the present. Bliss becomes depression the moment the wonder of it all wears off and then I'm off to another city. I can't seem to stay present. But I keep trying to recapture happiness. As if happiness really existed. Even strangers ask me why I am so sad. I brush it off like I am tired. In truth I'm just tired of being sad. Omfg. Literally two seconds later and the most perfect song comes on "I hope you dance". Thanks universe. I needed this 😘 b/t the very uplifting songs that keep popping up and a review of the pictures I've taken so far, I think I've figured out why I love photography, amateur it may be. My photos are MINE. I took them bc I saw something inspiring and they always bring that feeling back. It doesn't matter if no one else "gets" them bc they're for me. I think the concept I struggle with is that there are no answers. I like answers. I like knowing how and why things are the way they are. But there is no reason. There is no god or higher power. Happiness is a snapshot. It only takes a second, but you hold onto it to get you through all the bullshit. Eventually your life is a collage of snapshots. And I think that's pretty cool bc they're the only things that matter in the end. So take your happiness while you can and self-sooth when you can't. Am I distancing myself? Omg sleep deprivation fucks me up. That was some heavy shit out of no where. Doesn't matter cause I'm in PARIS BABY!! Literally too tired to muster up an ounce of enthusiasm. I barely remember how I got here from the airport. I have an hour and a half to check in and then I'm sleeping. I can explore Paris at night. God DAYUM. French cops walk around with big guns. Why are all the foreign cops so hot... Went for a late night walk. Grody. Paris is dirty and the men are gross. Crêpe was good. Kinda scary at night. April 6, 2017 Paris has been a disappointment. Totally overrated. I'm glad I can say that I've been here and I have selfies with the Arch de Triumphe and the Effiel tower, but that's it. I didn't connect at all. There was no authenticity imo. I walked around for a good 6 hours and it didn't really impress me in the least. I was more impressed with the most amazing orange I have ever eaten. Literally orgasmic. And i ate a whole baguette. I never knew that bread could taste EVEN BETTER. Both of which I bought from a tiny market a few doors down from my hostel. Even so far removed from the city center, this area is my favorite. It's dirtier than the tourist spots but has more character. I have been propositioned by two men in my 1 + 1/2 days here. Like, really. One rando stopped me on the street and I have no idea what he was talking about. The other was a street artist I bought a couple doodles from. He was talking about how French men are different from American men bc the French make love with their tongue....and then he asked what his chances were. I said none. I was gay and that I was leaving now. I do really love this hostel tho. Might be my favorite. I showered and got pretty to socialize at the downstairs bar but ended up sitting on the canal balcony reading... April 7, 2017 Bit of an annoying mix up with my bus this morning but it worked out. I mean, then we sat in traffic forever and the driver stopped for a break but I'm in no hurry. Lol. Met a nice girl named Catherine. Hung out for the rest of the day. Spent fucking forever walking up and down these hilly streets looking for my hostel in bumfuck nowhere. Found it but decided to just stay closer to town. But god is Brussels beautiful. And the food is so good! April 8, 2017 Total in love with Belgium. 🇧🇪 the modern parts don't overwhelm the historical parts and everything is delicious. I walked around quite a bit with Caroline yesterday and got the lay of the land so today I only needed to retrace our steps to get back to all the fun stuff, plus a few new landmarks I didn't see before. I also spent some time checking out the shops. Thankfully they weren't as artificial as Barcelona or high end as Paris. I even found a cute little chocolate shop. I wish I could have bought the fresh candies in the display case, but they'd never survive until I get home so I bought several large bars for mom, dad, Jim, and Jill. And an extra. Maybe for me. Maybe for Karen or Kat. Idk yet. I should also get Kristina and kai something. She really is such a good person and she has had a hard life. Idk if she even realizes that tho bc it's all she's known. I don't know many people who could survive her life and still be so kind and... spiritual. She has a lot of faith in the universe. So rare nowadays and I love it, if for no other reason than to reflect on my life of relative comfort. And she would be so happy with anything. She just wants that damn penpal tho. I'll do that and pick up a little something. I think that's pretty much the extent of my friends list... lmao I really love this bar I found. Ita called Gecko and it's one of the only places not choked to death by tourists. I've been nursing a 50cl beer for almost two hours and continuing a book I started reading in the park across from the Grand Palace. The music is banging. Totally in my element. A little buzzed with great tunes and a beautiful city around me. This trip is amazing. Although I wasn't going to bc I'm not a waffle person, I do think I will try one before I go. I think I'll regret it if I don't. I didn't eat the waffle. So I went to Amsterdam on an empty tummy full of beer. Arrived late. April 9, 2017 Met two American girls at the hostel breakfast, Rachel and cassie. They are studying abroad in Italy. I might have talked Rachel into being Kristina's pen pal. They were pretty nice. Also ran into my roommate, Stacy, outside the hostel and walked around with her for a while. No where in particular. Just around the park and down some streets. Walked around and just enjoyed the city. The canals are beautiful! I could stroll around all day. I basically did! I walked ~15 miles today, although I did take a much needed, space cookie-induced rest midday. I went back out later to see the red light district at night. Dutch Fuckboy. Enough said. April 10, 2017 I'm ready for a chill day. Woke up tired from being out late with the Fuckboy and wasn't really motivated to explore Amsterdam anymore. I can't believe I only spent one day there and can feel so at home so quickly. Plus, it was really cold and looked like rain coming in so I decided to make the hour + journey to the bus station early. Glad I did bc I made a new friend. The girl sitting next to me in Starbucks was crying quietly so I started talking to her about schools in holland vs the US and whatever else came to mind. It worked. She stopped crying and we chatted for over an hour. Then she told me that she broke up with her boyfriend yesterday and we talked about that. She sincerely appreciated the conversation I think and I feel like I helped someone today. We are FB friends now and I told her that she can always vent to me. I hope she takes me up on my offer. She is a nice person and I know she will do well for herself. Lmao July 26, 2017 Guess I never finished narrating my European saga. Probably bc I went to Berlin next and had too much fun and made too many friends to talk about exsistentialism and philosophy and shit. Regardless, some retrospective musings: Hope I never forget Berlin. I'll definitely go back. Next time I will completely bypass Western Europe and just do the eastern half. Start in Berlin, Prague, Budapest, Slovenia, Croatia, etc. And travel SLOWER. Needed more than 4-5 days for Berlin BY FAR. Could do 10 in Berlin and 7 in Prague probs. Although, I still do want to hit up Ireland and Scotland. Maybe do those two with Iceland as a separate trip. Next year I'm thinking Brazil (already learning Portuguese). And Southeast Asia is on the list for sure. Plus a few smaller, domestic trips for long weekends: Niagra falls, the Caribbean, camping, etc. I definitely require a lot of travel to stay happy and to deal with this bullshit world we live in. I do kind of wish I had someone with the travel bug like me. And that can afford to go/save to go. I definitely battled with the difference between being alone vs being lonely. It was better when I started socializing. Idky i didn't in the beginning. I will see the world one part at a time or until mankind has destroyed everything.