I am currently in Switzerland and I keep getting mz Ys and Zs mixed up, so bare with me. There's a mountain and waterfall outside my window - on the walk here I could not take five steps without snapping a photo - It's incredable, it's more than that, if I had additional time I would look up a more fitting word -
It's hard to come by internet cafes in Paris, so let's play catch up.
Day One -On the plane ride to London, I had one emotional break down 39,000 ft up, which is pretty good for me. The captain announced for seat belts to be fastened and for the flight attendants to get in their jump seats. When I heard "jump seats", the tears started to roll and I said, or screamed why- many many times. The woman across from me consoled me, told me it was going to be alright - sometimes that's all we need. She became my rational voice since mine had taken leave, every time the plane shook I looked at her - she nodded- and I was okay.
After galavanting around London's streets with a handful of Americans, I was hoping to catch some sleep, since I hadn't the night before. The Geneator Hostel had plenty going on, sleep is not one of them.
When I got to my room there was a girl, there was a boy. A boy, in the all girls room. I didn't think much of it since the hostel was completely out of control. I went to bed at 1:30 a.m.
At 2 a.m. four Swedish girls entered, (there were 6 beds in the room) looking for their assigned beds. They caused a huff since there weren't enough beds -- Security came - woke up the guy - and told him to get the hell out.
Twenty minutes later someone comes in to change the sheets, twenty after that the Swedish girls return to the room. They stood there chattering away in their language. I kept telling myself to have fun this was a hostel, that these are the happenings of hostels. That didn't work for long because in no time I cleared my throat quite loudly and told them to pipe down because my friend and I were to wake up early, to my surprise they were apologetic and quieted down.
At 4 a.m the initial girl, R, started to cry out, "Ow Ow Ow," at first, I thought it was a dream. Once I came around and realized I wasn't in Jane's dream world, I asked her what was wrong. She said, "it's my leg, my leg, I can't move my leg." At that point I knew it was bad cirrculation, since my mother suffers from it as well. So, I jumped out of bed, threw back her covers and started to message the calf she pointed to. After a bit she started to feel right again, I suggested for her to walk about the room because she needed to get her blood going. She did and we went back to sleep. At least I attempted to sleep. I lyed there in shock, I had no idea who this girl was, but my chest got tight at this girl's distress. I guess I just did what had to be done?