Archive | June, 2014
Quote

I see my path, …

30 Jun

I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it. – Rosalía de Castro

Everytime I tell someone that I travel alone – and like it -, they all react as if the Reaper himself was standing right behind me. I always end up turning myself around just in case. So far, it’s never been there. Anyway, I always end up asking myself ‘why’s there no chocolate again in my cupboard? Who ate it all?!’. 

Nope. It’s not that, for sure. 

It’s something more like ‘what’s wrong with traveling alone?’. Whenever these people look at me with that stare, I ask that to them. They all answer ‘it’s kind of dangerous…right?’. Of course. The last time I got that answer was two weeks ago, when I was about to fly to Prague and Bratislava – Visiting Prague on my own, Bratislava with a bunch of twats (of course they weren’t, I effing love them all, I don’t know why – you bastards suck, I use to hate people, not love them). And then I figured it out: It’s like, when you travel with more people, nothing happens, but if your luck is not that good, the airport will turn itself into Mordor and lots of giant monsters will come and greet you. ‘What’s wrong with monsters coming and greeting you? Don’t monsters have feelings? Aren’t they receiving you with loads of kindness? Why are you so mean to monsters?’ you, wandering reader, may be thinking. Well, turns out monsters’ way of saying ‘hi’ is eating your head in one bite. Not nice now, right?

But what their ‘fear’ doesn’t let them see is that the plane/bus/train/boat will arrive whether they’re alone or not, the transfer to the city centre will do the same, hotels are always there, no matter what, and a city runs the same way, regardless there’s a single or a group. It was only when I first traveled alone that I really understood how ‘little’ I really was – total and fullfilled cliché here, but it is true as fuck -, how different we all are and how similar at the same time. Needless to say that from the very first minute you own your own adventure. Wanna have local food for lunch? You can – nobody there saying ‘oi, I just don’t like curry’. Wanna have KFC for dinner? You can – nobody saying ‘that’s so fast food. Nope’. Wanna visit a museum? You can – nobody be like ‘museums? really? that’s all we’ve to see?’ Wanna skip that monument? You can – nobody be like ‘WE CAN’T MISS THAT’; c’mon, it’s a building. 

You’ll somehow befriend locals (or not locals, or nobody at all) – I’m shy. I’m pretty shy. I’m shy as fuck. But get me in a plane and drop me off in any place I don’t know – I’m the popular girl from the cheerleader gang. 

And what about the feeling of getting lost in places you don’t know shit about? Adrenaline. Everywhere. Please give me more of that.

And then you get home, sit down and stare at the wall. I always do this. Then you start getting these flashbacks from the trip. And realize some of them are freaking crazy. Like real crazy. Or beautiful. Or even embarrasing (but, so what, anyway?). But they were. And they were yours and probably nobody else’s. Unique. Like no souvenir magnet will ever be. And then you realize the World itself is a big playground to play on. And then you wonder…’where will my head be eaten next time?’. 

I can’t wait. 

 

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PS.

30 Jun

He hates chocolate. 

He likes cheese.           

He likes coke.                

He hates sweets.

He hates chocolate,

Why the fuck’s he now with me? 

I love chocolate.

I hate cheese.

I hate coke.

I like sweets.

What the fuck am I doing here?

Listening to Sinatra, 

as cheesy as it is, 

while I remember your stare 

and…

oh wait. 

Let me start all over. 

 

 

What was I doing?

 

On the guilty pleasure of developing ‘feelings’ for people I’ll never ever see again. – 2014