They always have this sudden politeness that overcomes them when they speak English. I always wondered if it came from the British. They form the words carefully to make sure that I understand.

His eyes showed pity and he said, “I am sorry. You’re too late.”

Three hours earlier, I aimlessly wandered after the city bike tour. First stopping at a cafe for brioche and ginger/mint/lime tea. Then I found myself shopping, thinking of how to spend my last 25 euros.

An hour should be enough for me to get to the airport, I think.

I had waited a long time before my flight to Berlin at Gatwick and didn’t want to make the same mistake.

Somehow I didn’t think that was going to work this time…as I found myself feeling anxious as I got lost and lost.

I had walked in circles with my hands freezing carrying my two bags from the airport. Eventually, I pulled out my phone and reoriented myself to the correct German street.

And then I saw it. The buildings were all covered in graffiti. I sucked in my breath—yes I had pay a super low price for this room, but is this how it will be like? I ran the doorbell of the building…the host buzzed me in but then I noticed that the front door to the building didn’t close anyway.

The host didn’t look like his photo and upon entering, I was hesitant. Concrete. The place obviously wasn’t done up to be designy in anyway. It was left as if nothing had been personalized. Then I saw my room—it was as advertised. A small “Japanese” room as described.

The following morning, I woke up…and I realized how excellent it was.

“Frankly, I am people-ed out,” she said after having traveling after 5+ weeks. “I just want to drink coffee and read the news.”

She had said those words as we were sitting around in a late night pub in Dublin, Ireland. We had all met after the conference, finding fellow conference goers to tour around the city and hang out. She downed another Guinness after that, regaling us stories of her weeks in Thailand, Bali and Singapore.

Today I can officially say I am people-ed out. It has been only since the 30th of January…I am on my 14th day abroad. Soon, I will surpass the longest time that I have been away traveling. This morning, it wasn’t quite homesickness that I woke up to. I don’t miss the everyday patter. I miss the familiarity of people—that I don’t need to present myself all over again every day to someone new. I miss having a constant person who knows why I do the things that I do and why I say the things that I say. That is comforting.

Every other day, I wake up somewhere new. A hotel room. A small room in the in-law unit of a flat. A shared dormitory. A large English living room complete with gold-plated mirrors and multiple Ikea lamps. And tomorrow morning, a bedroom with orange painted walls.

I look forward to a day of mindless wandering alone. To be without the desires of another. To decide at a whim yes, I will go there or declare I am tired and in need of a drink. I decide. But I know for several moments, I would wish to have someone share the experiences with me. For now, Toad is my companion.

Like my parents, I always fight for the bill when I have guests and when I am a guest. It’s what I have been taught to show gratitude and appreciation for others.

Yet that’s often where it stops. In my expression of generosity.

Having been in Europe now for more than a week (and finally having real Internets), there’s something comforting about the way that people treat each other.

The choice of words.

In London at least, there’s the language—mind the gap, take care, everything ok?…it’s more sentimental, personal. Although it has the same motivation, the language itself suggests differing behavior. It suggests that we are more emotionally connected, a giving of ourselves to others.

The way people spend extra time with each other.

Perhaps it’s just the connections that I have—but what I thought was just lunch or just dinner…turns into longer walks, longer tours, afternoon tea, after dinner desserts/drinks.

The culture.

It’s clearly more nationalistic in certain parts, depending on the country. As it is clear in Dublin, that it is about Ireland. and in London, it is clear that it is about England. With it, there is an essence of nationalistic pride, a branding of everything—from English tea to Irish sparkling water. Yet there is a genuine curiosity about other cultures, especially where differences lie.

But I am still curious what “He’ll take care of you” means.

Unlike many times before, this time preparing for my international travel…I was very stressed out.

Paperwork, packing, eating, showering…but all done now, I hope!

“Let’s be spontaneous,” I said last weekend.

As the words tumbled out of me, I knew how it was very unlike me. I never was the one to suggest spontaneity. I rarely if ever was the one to pull someone else by hand to “let me show you something”. I don’t shout in glee from speed, with air blowing through my messy hair.

But there it was. A momentary glimpse past my usual reserve. A sudden desire for temporary ecstasy. In pursuit of delight.

We got there, but it was closed. So no slides.

Earlier, we walked past a swing. I did not mention my hesitation on getting on—not wanting in the spotlight, but also desiring to swing freely through the air. Faster, higher! Is that what would go through my mind? Push me!

Instead, I scampered up to the destination of the slides and scampered back down.

We made it! I said in delight.

What if I could be completely honest? What if I could be…radically honest?

As I walked down the stairs, I heard the familiar melody. He was strumming a recognizable series of chords on the guitar.

I hesitated for a moment as I pulled out my wallet to tap my transit card into the BART. As the chords continued, nostalgia tugged at me. Vague memories of unrequited love, difficult friendships in college, mistakes, successes…all these emotions…flashed before me. In mere seconds.

Then he started singing, “Kaaar…ma police”

Not quite the same as Thom Yorke, so I continued into the station. But I found myself wanting to relive those moments in college again.