"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."

Friday, February 15, 2013

My Friends Are Too Sad For My Funny Stories..

Before I left to begin my travels, a co-worker who'd traveled told me two things would happen when I returned. One, I would be so much more appreciative of having a washing machine or my own bedroom; and two, people won't really want to hear about my trip. They will have still remained in their normal lives at home and don't want to relish in my encounters. I'm beginning to see the second one already as my friends are all dealing with personal tragedies and heartaches.
Well, amidst heartbreak, teen angst, and even death, there is one of my friends who still has moments of awkwardness and laughter. It's me.
Although I feel guilty sometimes for laughing and being happy while my closest friends are hurting and grieving, I'm still enjoying my experiences. Unfortunately, my friends are too sad to hear about my laugh-causing tales and I have to keep them to myself. Or tell you.
First moment, the guy who didnt believe in Canada. Two nights ago I sat in a bar writing postcards to friends and family and writing "Canada" underneath the provinces. A very drunk individual wandered up, picked up a postcard and reads out loud "Canada?! This is not a real country! Is a beautiful city."
"No." I told him. "Canada is a country like Spain is a country."
"Spain is a country! Canada is a fictional country!" was his response.
Over the next 20 minutes he would forget he'd met me and would pick up the postcard 3 more times, each time responding differently. I heard "you are a Canadian? Ah, my prayers are answered.","you are French. Canada is not real. You are French." and "I respect you. And Canada."
All of this was said in broken English and was quite entertaining because his friend was sitting beside him just laughing and telling me "I'm sorry. He's a little crazy and drinks to much." And telling his friend "you are an idiot." Drunk bar regulars will never fail to make me laugh.
Next moment I wanted to tell someone about was the first time I ever yelled at an old lady. The story is that I knew se was a gypsy lady and that although she offered me a plant and palm reading for free, she would demand money after. It happened first as I was walking to the hostel from the bus my first day in Granada. A little old lady walked up to me holding a sprig of rosemary or a plant that is supposed to bring good health and love. Being completely confused and lost I jut blanket stared at her as she told me all about my life in Spanish and then gave her one euro when she demanded five. Unfortunately, I crumpled up the plant in frustration and tossed it in the trash, so I don't know what that says for my health or love life. Apparently I'm throwing then both away... Anyway, yesterday another old lady was trying to do the same thing and was following me despite my polite "no gracias" and zero eye contact. After she followed me or a few steps I turned and said to her for the third time "NO GRACIAS." And stared at her for two seconds before continuing my pouting walk.
Third moment was today. I went on a fifteen minute walk to find the supermarket to buy granola bars. I left the store with no granola bars, the store jingle stuck in my head, and a gold/orange nail polish. I then proceeded to sit in the park with my stomach growling and paint my my nails, giving then the signature "Sarah did these" look. Notes to self, patience is key. Don't reach into your pockets within thirty seconds of painting your nails; in fact, wait thirty minutes. Pretend that it was intentional to get polish on your wrist and elbow and not at all a clumsy accident of which you have know idea how it occurred.
Thanks everyone for being there for these not so funny stories, and to all my sad and grieving friends, I hope you are one day happy again. Miss you all.
Goodnight world.
All my love,

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