high come down

dear five people I know who read my blog and the 38 I do not know:

I have been worried sick about you for the past two weeks. I have been adventuring all over europe and you had no idea. You really must know about all the things I have done. But I am not a dedicated enough blogger to post in the midst of traveling, and so I thought I would just fill you in when I got back.

One of my last days in Barcelona, a huge wave of homesickness smashed me hard. I was frustrated with my horrible map skills and my limited "hola. gracias." vocabulary. The unfamiliarness of it all was wearing me down. All I could think about was every good memory I have of my friends from Chicago and Columbia, I am missing the dumbest stupidest shit like bickering with John why he doesn't give blockbuster money and fine I will pay $4.99 for this movie. I wanted to go home.

Then last night, I am exhaustedly riding the escalator in a Marseille metro station, I am sick of living out of my backpack and I am tired and over the past 14 days I have slept in more beds than I have taken showers. I look above me and glance at the french advertisement above me and a few seconds later it registers that I completely comprehend everything the ad said. And heya I realize that I feel like I am home.

I will fill you in on my travels later because I am going to go bask in the glory that is france and maybe while I am reading "Qui Suive Peut" in the Parc, I will eavesdrop on the conversation next to me and bask in feeling like I belong.