In talking about travel and Europe and friendship …

It was said why would I go abroad accompanied again to dissolve yet another relationship. It was said jokingly but trust I don't wish for that to happen again. Does lightning strike the same spot twice? I really don't know. I just know that I value my current friendships even those newly formed. I believe that if I hand picked any of them, with blindfolds on and in a third world country - we would make it through. However, I'm not going to justify what happened against what could or may happen. The only thing I can do is redeem the happenings that would make anyone joke that I'm "the bad travel friend". Reality is this post has been written, updated, edited, deleted, started over and over again. I'm really trying to redeem my entire experience. Of course, I'm not doing it through this blog but this one post is supposed to be the code change. Right now, I'm supposed to explain that I did have fun … we had fun! Seriously, not everything was bad! In fact, there really were more good times than bad. There were epic nights, many bloopers, happy disasters and inside jokes. I can also say there were highlights to the trip and unforgettable little things that made everything seem worth it. 

Firstly, the bloopers. We fell a lot and it began just before leaving. In NYC, I fell so hard on the train my pointy toed flats boomeranged on me. When I finally came to my senses my shoe was stuffed right in-between my big and longer second toe. Some asshole encouraged us to brake the train and sue the MTA. Personally, I was glad the train was half empty and I was able to be helped up. Once in Europe it was a series of epic falls sometimes including running leaps with suitcases and other times an ego trip on a Paris night. We both had our fair share and the helping decreased. She was the clumsy one and I somehow followed suit. In Paris, I did giggle when she fell. On a train platform she offered a Daria hand that I refused to accept. Looking back we're very good at falling gracefully and picking ourselves up.

Then there were "The Stinkies". We always seemed to have a gravitational pull with all humans that reeked. They came to us in long lines, at restaurant tables and in goo gobs on the trains. We at first deemed it was all men and it soon became women. It really didn't matter where they were from or what country we were in. We invited the mustiest, nastiest types to join us. If it wasn't the inherently smelly types, it was always the smoker. Of course, the smoke was always bellowed at us over a nice meal or being forced to wait for transportation. It seemed as if there was an endless supply of cheap cigarettes, puffy cigars or sweaty cloves. None of it smelled good and there was no shame in the proximity of the smoke to our non-smoking faces. Trust, we both shared an impeccable sense of smell which damned us from the start.

Oh and don't get me started on the French nights of mystery. We were always with a small army of good looking men who all claimed to have girlfriends that we never saw. Sadly, they were always there all along disguised as annoying bar flys and shameless "boppers". They hovered and the men shooed them off and we always wondered who, what and why. Sooner or later we were formally introduced and left to gossip. We have never laughed so hard waiting for the inevitable. No one ever explained and as mentioned before we got used to it. However, I cannot say that I've ever been more amused finding out someone is unavailable. I'm still not sure if that prestige is to make everything more regal or to make us American girls feel like the rumors are indeed true. You know what the rumors are about French men. You know.

The outtakes of our adventure are simple. There were tiny wonders where we both aligned in the dream that was then. She always reminded me of that and offered a pinch when things were just too damn good to be true. I can easily say the best times were being wooed with warm Coke and cheese plates aka French hospitality. The times where we waltzed into bad places and our fear could be smelt for hours. That afternoon she mended a hole in my shirt at a cafe like a mom. That pissy drunk night on that Spanish train active listening to horrid nearby conversations in English. That pizza that I can easily say has ruined my entire life. Oh and the one time we witnessed archeologists working on an active site in Rome. It was basically our childhood in plain site - every cartoon, every adventure book - real archeologists digging up bones and gold real time!

The silly, morbid inside jokes of birth control alarms. The nights of subtitled television with simultaneous toe painting. The days where nothing but pastry was eaten. The telekinetic knows of wins on Candy Crush Saga and understanding of laughter outbursts from "Newsroom". The necessities of good ice cream. No, we never threw drinks at each other. And no we didn't share clothes. It was a happy medium of co-habitation and budding friendship with the world as a backdrop. Thank goodness it wasn't in hostel cots but it could have been downsized for more. The what-ifs haunt me at night and I thought every good thing meant redemption. Again, tiny moments that were plenty but never lasted quite long enough. Those petty moments of fixing ones side of the table for the others foodie IG post. I miss it and I don't. Seriously, that day my shirt was fixed was the quickest moment of admiration in loyalty to absolute disgust in vanity. Sometimes the the sweetness of everything was too hard to bare and something had to cut it. 

I miss my friend. 
Well, that friend.

People unravel at the seams while traveling. People's blood pressure elevates, they lose things, they leave laptops and shoes on planes, the get robbed, get lost etc. Seriously, a few bitchy moments and some stolen material items is all the negativity I experienced. The most she can say is that I reciprocated the attitude and I paid her back for her "hospitality". We didn't physically lose anything. No one pick pocketed us. We were never excruciatingly lost anywhere and never for too long. I plan on going back alone or with someone who can appreciate the good and the bad. Someone who can move on. Someone who is whole. Someone who can eat! I'm not bitter. I'm grateful. I got to see the world! I got to travel, I came back in one piece and now I can be a better person. Please know that I am not trying to be mushy or facetious. We. I think we had a rather decent time. It could have been a lot worse. I had fun. I have memories. I'm lucky. We both are. 

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