I like traveling. I also hate it.
I like traveling. I like this part:
You know, doing something you’ve only seen in movies. For me, this involved, yes, getting my picture taken inside a red phone booth. Forgive me, I lose all fear of being a cliched traveler when confronted by such things. Mario is fascinated by other sorts of things. See:
I love learning new languages, eating new foods, soaking up the culture. My mom experienced a fried calamari sandwich in Madrid. I’ve eaten steak tartare in France, jamón serrano in Spain, and super fresh prawns in Lisbon.
What gives, my friend? I’ll tell you what gives: I hate the part in which I actually have to get from place. I don’t particularly love buses, airpots, and impatient tourists waiting in long lines. I could deal without Ryan Air’s famous “customer service.” I really don’t care for jet lag.
(Side note: this graphic is so true!)
In about a week (October 25th, to be exact), Mario will be packing his bags into a car, then a bus, and finally a plane to cross the Atlantic. Once he has done all that, he’ll arrive 8 hours later, only to pack his bags into yet another vehicle and drive 3 more hours. He’ll finally arrive at my house, something like 18 hours after he started. And he’s lucky. It’s a direct flight.