you notice many things while travelling. many things. i suddenly realised that since christmas i have taken no less than 7 flights around europe.
to help me with my boredom, i usually play a little game. when you first settle down on the plane, take a look around, no, not to find the nearest exit incase of emergency, if an emergency occurs, odds are you will be smashed to a pulp before you get to open one. take a look around and see if you can guess which of the passengers will be the first to hot foot it to the bathroom as soon as the captain switches off the seat belt sign. there is always one, at least one on every flight, sometimes even two or three.
it makes me think about their logic. odds are that they have been away from a toilet for less than 30 minutes, but the moment that sign is off, the race is on. gotta be first to take a pee!
the other thing i notice is english travellers. i know i am always bleeting on about the english abroad and how embarrassing they are, maybe that is because you dont notice the quiet ones, afterall millions of brits travel each year into europe. there is always one complete fuckwit, the type that makes you cringe at the thought that the locals may associate you with them. ok, i am not a snob but i bet you have all been in similar situations while you are away on holiday.
while waiting for my connection on madrid this week, i met one that would make anyones toes curl. to call him a northern monkey would be a complete understatement. to call him a retard, would be an insult to retards, in short, he was just a complete wanker.
two of them sat at the next table to me in the restaurante. i could clearly hear their conversation, simply because they were so loud. i did at first struggle to place the language and then the accent because the gimp obviously thought it was hip and cool to act as retarded as possible. that jaw open gormless look with the accent and slang that suggests he came from ‘moron-ville’ and was probably heading straight back there because he didnt like the food. every other word was ‘fuck’ and he was loud! embarrasingly loud.
now this brain of britain ordered a ham and cheese toastie, then while munching it over open mouthed, told his friend that he didnt like cheese! now you are asking the same question as me huh, why order a ham and CHEESE toastie if you dont like cheese.
he was a kind hearted chap though, he did offer it to his friend. his pal, graciously declined though, as he asked ‘ dont like cheese, you want it?’ he did so with a ball of the stuff in his mouth and his mouth agape with his food rolling from side to side tossed around by his tongue. you would have needed a very strong stomach to have taken that sandwich from his plate.
anyway, back to familiar soil, spain, mallorca. it feels good to be able to speak the native tongue when i want something. italy was a great adventure, i would love to return, but at the same time, i would have to stay a while and learn the language. I have to say, the italian women were absolutely stunning. even the munters do it with style. what would be a ten pinter in england would be a two pinter in italy. Sadly, i never had the chance to make any aquaintances!!
so it is back to the grind for a while. i am now keen to head back to portugal for a while but that will be a few months away yet. i miss the insecurity of my front door, the ability to just leave it wide open when i go out, i miss paddling out and meeting freinds out back and i generally miss the solitude that the place brings and of course the many friends i have made. i am curious to see who is still there. it is absolutely clear that many people arrive with the idea of staying forever but leave when they realise just how hard it is to survive down there. for me, it was always going to be easier, i had enough dough to buy my own place so work is really just for shits and giggles
i leave you yet again with the hearty question – WHERE IS MAX?