I love being able to sip an espresso for hours without someone hustling me out the door. While it can be frustrating at times, I like the way people just don't really care about things (to put it bluntly). Posting updated timetables for trains? Not a concern. It's a live-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type of life. The only thing that matters is right now, so stop worrying.
While I've written many a blogpost about the lack of comfort and irritating nature of my trip, I see it as my annoying little brother (if I ever had one, Thanks Mom and Dad for stopping at me by the way). I can make fun of him all I want. He's a dork, a dweeb, he irritates me to no end, but if someone else comes in and picks on him. No Sir. That guy is going down. How dare you insult him. He is wonderful, perfect, and mine.
I like being an outsider. Well, not exactly. Let me rephrase: I like the feeling of becoming an insider, the pregnant moment of being on the cusp, just before acceptance. The first moment when you can actually and successfully listen in on a conversation in Greek or Italian, or French or whatever, is exhilarating. When you can manage to get yourself across town without ever looking at a map: a very proud moment in my book. I fear that when I go back to the States, I will be going back to normal. Normalcy is synonymous with mediocrity and that scares me. I guess though, I've been doing a lot of things that would have scared me. Every fearsome moment is a chance to learn and grow. As Baz Lurhmann puts it, "Do one thing everyday that scares you." Maybe when I get back, it will be an antithesis to my experience here. I will be going on another exciting adventure into the unknown: home.
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