"Every fallen angel prays for a second chance to fly again. And over time these tired wings have given in to the same old sins.
You're the only one who makes me feel like I could ever fly again."

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Let the Confusion Begin Again

There are few things more awkward than goodbyes; however, foreign goodbyes in a foreign country with foreign people gets to be one of those things. As I was bidding farewell to my new Barcelona friends, I was the awkward recipient of hugs, handshakes, two-cheek air kisses, three-cheek air kisses, and two-cheek physical kisses with a hug. For a girl who thinks hugging is weird, this blew all my limits. But I have to admit it was nice to feel like I will be missed by people who were only strangers to me a week ago. 
At 1, I took the bus headed toward Zaragoza. Or, as the receptionist has now confused me, "tharagotha" with the accent. You know that incredible feeling of excitement you get when you board a bus about to leave town? You've got an awesome song and the best playlist you've ever made ready to go and as the engines start up you hit play and nostalgically stare out the window to watch the memories roll by. Well, that's all fine and dandy when leaving a small town like my home, but when leaving a city it's a whole different world. First, the bus engines start up and you hit the play button on your iPod thinking "yes! This is it!" And then you sit there for another fifteen minutes. Next, the bus finally starts to backup and so you restart the playlist and begin that melancholy glance out the window--- into a bus station filled with other busses and people who are staring at you wondering if you're okay. After that the bus gets on the highway and its just trucking along and as soon as you pass the big apartment building you replay the begging of the playlist. Finally, finally it's working out like you had imagined. And 30 minutes later you pas a big "leaving Barcelona" sign and realize that the movies must skip a huge time frame between the awesome song and nostalgic window glances. 
But movies can't really grasp the awkwardness of a first night in a new hostel. Here I am in an amazingly cool hostel in Zaragoza and after 20 minutes of arrival I've managed to say hello. That's it. If this trip teaches me anything I hope it's to be more outgoing. I always seem to leave he introductions up to others, scared of saying the wrong thing or being talked about in a foreign language. But I guess we have to over come silly fears. So I'm off to greet my fellow hostellers and find food. Ill probably try to find food first though.... 
Good evening world. All my love, 
P.S. everyone I've met assumes I'm French because of my last name. Now I'm pondering if my parents lied about my British ancestry. Hmmm

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