My Little Travel Cliche

I feel like a complete cliche right now.

Traveling through Europe alone, copy of Eat Pray Love in hand, looking for the answers to everything in my life.  Trying to find myself (or rather, the @ sign, as it seems to be different on every country’s computer I have found thus far…) and conquering the world one city at a time.

Barcelona started off as a disaster.  After my God-awful experience with American Airlines, I had even debated calling off the whole trip and going home.  Since my ticket was on mileage, it wouldn’t cost me a dime, and the thought of being back in my comfort zone was highly appealing.

It took me a grand total of 4 hours to get from the airport to the hostel, primarily because I was too afraid to A – ask for help, and B – pull out a map in public and thus call out attention to myself.  I’d like to say it worked to a certain extent, as people were asking me for help (while I ignored them) and I simply played the `rude´ person card… Either that or deaf and/or dumb.

Now, I dont want you thinking thats a part of my character, because it most certainly is not!  I’m the type of person who loves being able to smile at everyone in sight… I love how smiles are contagious, and making someone else smile completely makes my day.  However, after being told so many stories of how Barcelona is a rather dangerous city of a solo traveling female, and after hearing testimonies of how my friends got things stolen from them, pants sliced with razors (pickpocketers) or my favorite – being threatened with aids by drug infested needles, you bet I had every right to be cautious!

I finally arrived at my hostel at around 10 PM, exhausted, confused, on the verge of tears, in dire need of a shower, and wondering if coming to Barcelona was the right decision.  I seem to have a knack for traveling in the wrong direction, because I backtracked my way around every single route I was supposed to take in Barcelona.  Lucky for me, I had the absolute GREATEST guy working the front desk named Luis. He gave me a huge hug, flashed me his Texas Longhorns shirt, almost told me his own entire life story and assured me that everything was going to be okay.

And it was.

I met 4 amazing people that night, who took me off to the supermarket, offered me quesadillas, and showed me how to make my own sangria. We conversed. We laughed. We shared life stories.  Travel stories.   They gave me confidence, as all of them had been traveling on their own for weeks or months.  They later told me Luis told them they should all give me a big hug because I needed one…. and I did.

So this post is for Luis. Even though I didn’t get to see him again after that initial night (nor did I get a picture with him!! :( ), he gave me the support and confidence I needed, to know that even when you’re thousands of miles away from home and feel completely alone… you can find someone who cares.