I visited London, China, French Guyana and at the end of this summer, France. I love every trip I had done, even if some brought tears and pain sometimes. I still keep amazing memories anyway. And they brought out something in me, they showed sides of me, I didn't know I had. They all have something special.
The first one what in London, for 3 weeks. Initially, I was to help out a friend of mine that had in mind to leave her hometown to live for a while in the UK. Ever since high school, she had quite a passion for London, and the royal family. I remember when she called me the first time she explained her plans for the Fall. It was early January and I was about to start on a new semester in Anthropology (and it wasn't going so good, bad grades because of poor study -which reminds me that I should start on to study for NEXT semester already, no kidding!- The school did threw me out at the end of that very semester). So my friend (let's call her UK-loca) told me she was planning to stop school and get away for awhile and that she wanted me to be around to help out over there. I never really had a thing for England, I never got on that UK passion-thing. But hey, why not? It was a trip like no other. We settled for dates couple of weeks after that phone call. We decided for mid-September. That would gave us time to get some money in our pockets and also time to check out what we would do over there. I should have known back then what would have occurred when we would have settled. Basically the idea was that UK-loca would get a job and that from then on, I would get whatever time left to visit the country (or at the very least, the city). That didn't quite happened.
Time passed and we planned what we would do (as to visiting and seeing the most we thought we could) but never really was any word exchanged as to where my friend would look up for a job. We got passport, got our money and plan tickets and on a special day in September, my parents took me to the airport for my very first (and long, 3 weeks) trip. I met up UK-loca over at the airport, we both had big backpack, we were really excited and all. That was until my mother cried...so OF COURSE I had to cry too. (Honestly it was sympathy tears, I wasn't sad at all!) And I wasn't the one leaving for 'a good while' -that too, could be taken as hint of what would *not* happen-
After the tears, numerous hugs and many good words, our parents left us to be and we passed on the first waiting line. I thought airports were like in the movies. Family get to see you get on the plane, get to see you leave. NOT!! We had left our big backpack to get x-rayed and all. We were lighter and still very much excited. We head to what was some kinda a giant waiting area with many doors for the actual planes. I saw a horizontal escalator and that had made my day (just like in the movies!) The wait is the worst as for the first trip you do. You just don't know what you're getting into (the destination as well as the actual airplane trip). You're sitting around many people that you don't know, and you try to blend in. You try to sit in a cool enough way so that the other travelers don't know it's your first time (why the heck we do that?)
You try to pay attention to what people say, it could be useful later on. Anyway, eventually after much much wait, you just don't care anymore. Because of course, we always get there really early, everybody says to do so. At one point, we get call in the plane and heart starts racing again, it had settled a bit since the arrival but went on again because something new was to happen...
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