I wonder if I’m running from something. Responsibility? Guilt? Regret? Is this my way of dealing with the events of the past four years? I’m not eating well, I’m drinking too much and I’m cavorting with “the wrong crowd”. I feel like a student again. I long for a packet of wafer thin reformed ham and a pot noodle.
Making phone calls and getting very little success or straight answers from a country a million miles from home is enough to drive anyone loco. That means crazy. See? Spanish. No problem…(o). Always learning.
I’m actually wandering around in a daze and it’s either got something to do with the heat, or the excessive amount of partying I have been doing. It’s been a pretty hard cycle to get out of. Wake up around midday, throw some clothes on, find somewhere that sells smoothies, then return to crash out in a hammock. Finally at night I shower, change, then go out and probably make a fool of myself. Other hostel users flit in and out through the day, bringing tales of hikes and beaches; gathering food to cook in the kitchen, and large fresh fish they have caught on a boat trip. I simply smell in the corner; a pretty accurate depiction of UK drinking culture. It isn’t, nor can it come to any good.
Today isn’t much different. Yet for the most part I am enjoying myself. There are some nice people here, the weather has been glorious and I guess I’m on holiday. A friend tells me I should stop being so hard on myself over a local brew. That it isn’t the destination, but the journey that counts. It’s just a pity I’m traveling on bottles of rum.
Chalk it up to experience
I wonder if I’m running from something. Responsibility? Guilt? Regret? Is this my way of dealing with the events of the past four years? I’m not eating well, I’m drinking too much and I’m cavorting with “the wrong crowd”. I feel like a student again. I long for a packet of wafer thin reformed ham and a pot noodle.
Making phone calls and getting very little success or straight answers from a country a million miles from home is enough to drive anyone loco. That means crazy. See? Spanish. No problem…(o). Always learning.
I’m actually wandering around in a daze and it’s either got something to do with the heat, or the excessive amount of partying I have been doing. It’s been a pretty hard cycle to get out of. Wake up around midday, throw some clothes on, find somewhere that sells smoothies, then return to crash out in a hammock. Finally at night I shower, change, then go out and probably make a fool of myself. Other hostel users flit in and out through the day, bringing tales of hikes and beaches; gathering food to cook in the kitchen, and large fresh fish they have caught on a boat trip. I simply smell in the corner; a pretty accurate depiction of UK drinking culture. It isn’t, nor can it come to any good.
Today isn’t much different. Yet for the most part I am enjoying myself. There are some nice people here, the weather has been glorious and I guess I’m on holiday. A friend tells me I should stop being so hard on myself over a local brew. That it isn’t the destination, but the journey that counts. It’s just a pity I’m traveling on bottles of rum.