Location: Border of France / Spain
She looked at the store-keeper, lost for words, he stared at her waiting impatiently.
"Köszönöm szépen!" ... no ... "Merci!" ... no ... "Grazie!" She felt like crying, his face turned into a warm smile and responded in perfect English "You're welcome, but, I am still waiting for you to pay me."
"Köszönöm szépen!" ... no ... "Merci!" ... no ... "Grazie!" She felt like crying, his face turned into a warm smile and responded in perfect English "You're welcome, but, I am still waiting for you to pay me."
My sleep was broken with a mixture of restless excitement and anxiousness and then my alarm awoke me rudely. It was still dark outside. Disgruntled I rose looking at the time distastefully, 2am, I had only slept one hour. Involuntarily, my feet dragged me to the bathroom, something hard and solid collided with my face knocking me to the ground, I cursed loudly looking up at what attacked me. The wall. I had just confirmed that I was still intoxicated.
Today I would be forced to speak 5 different dialects, on one hours sleep, while tipsy. C'est Fantastique!
Agnesh drove me to the airport with Noami, an amazing girl I met in Ócsa. The whole time we chatted away excitedly about movies, travel and our countless adventures. While driving along the road passing paddocks and sleeping tractors, I couldn't seem to ease the developing nerves contained deep within my stomach.
My feeble attempts of sleep on the aeroplane were dismissed abruptly. The air-hostess helped himself to a seat next to me handing me another bag of cookies. Politely I took the bag and slowly nibbled on one of the stale snacks filling my lap with a thousand crumbs. "Do you see the coliseum?" He asked in a thick accent optimistically leaning over me to peer out the window. For the next 20 minutes I recieved a private tour of Rome and a "house invitation" despite my subtle protests and signs of disinterest. By the time the plane hit the ground I was the fastest to flee the terminal despite my protesting head and my aching body.
With minutes of sneaking around like a ninja in the attempt to avoid another encounter with "Romeo", I finally found the gate for my next flight! Ahhh 5 glorious hours of sleep awaited me! I found myself a nice hard plastic chair in an abandoned corner and I curled up uncomfortably, proud of my little victory.
I awoke roughly as if someone had shaken me. I blinked squinting into the bright light to find eight eyes staring back at me. Had I been sleep talking? Did I have something obscure on my face? Was my breast exposed? … Yes my breast was exposed. I fixed my dress and clambered off annoyed. Then I noticed it, eyes from every direction following me, undressing me - Welcome to Rome! I decided I would never visit Italy again unless I was wearing a burka.
Hiding in a corner from prying eyes, I had consumed nerves for lunch over the simple sandwich that had been lovingly prepared from my grandmother, five hours dragged for an eternity. When my feet finally landed in Toulouse I needed a moment of composure, I felt as if I would collapse. Dashing into the toilet the only words I could tell myself was "...breathe…" Suddenly he was in front of me, I looked up and my knees buckled.
I gave him a crocodile hug and he handed me a brown paper bag awkwardly. I peered inside to find two delicious golden croissants. I was confused, they were the two things you wanted when you first arrived in France he explained softly starting the car and staring ahead at the consuming road.
We drove through the winding French countryside passing quaint villages and lush rolling hills when we finally reached the border of Spain. I got out of the car in awe of the surrounding mountains scattered with pockets of snow. I stumbled, where did my graceful body gone? It was the road he stated, it was melting. We continued to drive through a 2 kilometre tunnel, when we emerged once more into daylight - There was no mistake about it. We had arrived in Spain.
The green hills had been replaced by rocks and goats were frolicking in their cumbersome bells within an enclosed twine inclosure.
It took me two hours to consume the croissants despite my grumbling stomach. We drove, and I made it my personal mission to make him laugh…
Today I would be forced to speak 5 different dialects, on one hours sleep, while tipsy. C'est Fantastique!
Agnesh drove me to the airport with Noami, an amazing girl I met in Ócsa. The whole time we chatted away excitedly about movies, travel and our countless adventures. While driving along the road passing paddocks and sleeping tractors, I couldn't seem to ease the developing nerves contained deep within my stomach.
My feeble attempts of sleep on the aeroplane were dismissed abruptly. The air-hostess helped himself to a seat next to me handing me another bag of cookies. Politely I took the bag and slowly nibbled on one of the stale snacks filling my lap with a thousand crumbs. "Do you see the coliseum?" He asked in a thick accent optimistically leaning over me to peer out the window. For the next 20 minutes I recieved a private tour of Rome and a "house invitation" despite my subtle protests and signs of disinterest. By the time the plane hit the ground I was the fastest to flee the terminal despite my protesting head and my aching body.
With minutes of sneaking around like a ninja in the attempt to avoid another encounter with "Romeo", I finally found the gate for my next flight! Ahhh 5 glorious hours of sleep awaited me! I found myself a nice hard plastic chair in an abandoned corner and I curled up uncomfortably, proud of my little victory.
I awoke roughly as if someone had shaken me. I blinked squinting into the bright light to find eight eyes staring back at me. Had I been sleep talking? Did I have something obscure on my face? Was my breast exposed? … Yes my breast was exposed. I fixed my dress and clambered off annoyed. Then I noticed it, eyes from every direction following me, undressing me - Welcome to Rome! I decided I would never visit Italy again unless I was wearing a burka.
Hiding in a corner from prying eyes, I had consumed nerves for lunch over the simple sandwich that had been lovingly prepared from my grandmother, five hours dragged for an eternity. When my feet finally landed in Toulouse I needed a moment of composure, I felt as if I would collapse. Dashing into the toilet the only words I could tell myself was "...breathe…" Suddenly he was in front of me, I looked up and my knees buckled.
I gave him a crocodile hug and he handed me a brown paper bag awkwardly. I peered inside to find two delicious golden croissants. I was confused, they were the two things you wanted when you first arrived in France he explained softly starting the car and staring ahead at the consuming road.
We drove through the winding French countryside passing quaint villages and lush rolling hills when we finally reached the border of Spain. I got out of the car in awe of the surrounding mountains scattered with pockets of snow. I stumbled, where did my graceful body gone? It was the road he stated, it was melting. We continued to drive through a 2 kilometre tunnel, when we emerged once more into daylight - There was no mistake about it. We had arrived in Spain.
The green hills had been replaced by rocks and goats were frolicking in their cumbersome bells within an enclosed twine inclosure.
It took me two hours to consume the croissants despite my grumbling stomach. We drove, and I made it my personal mission to make him laugh…