Around the bush

Previously, in theredstringofate: what part of your personality hides behind your language? Is it coincidence or do we really share some traits with our compatriots? In any case, getting to know something about the culture and the background of our friends can always facilitate communication.

I had a bike accident on Monday but don’t worry, nothing serious. My pride is still in the hospital, though, probably won’t get over it in a couple of weeks… stupid tram tracks! Who invented those things? Whoever did, had a mountain bike and wasn’t thinking of poor foreigners with low income and thin tires. I am glad it is not summer yet so nobody can see the fabulous purplish tone of both my knees. It was one of those moments when you hold your breath, stress and fright, and then suddenly release it all after. Only that I had to be in the office, so not fun at all. Luckily enough I was with a friend who made sure I got safe and sound to work that morning.

So anyway, about the bike, I got it two weeks ago in a shop called “rebycle” (smart!), recommended by another friend, whose brother is working in Belfast, Northern Ireland. My co-worker is from Belfast as well, and sometimes I hear his accent and feels almost home... Anyhow, it is cool to have a bike but it can be scary if you don’t know the rules or the town well enough. It could be almost as scary as Hannah driving a rental car in an Irish roundabout -  almost but not quite. - 

So yeah, as I said, most of the time I’m pretty lost. That day I was really stubborn. “Preguntando se llega a Roma” or so people say in mai countri * so after asking a couple of guys who were enjoying the sun at some café, we made our way to the shop. The weather in Graz has improved remarkably and it is a real pleasure to spend time outside. 

That night, as many other nights abroad, I ended up in the birthday party of a friend of a friend, who ended up being… the same guy who helped us find our way to the bike shop that same day. I mean, please, whoever is in charge of the controls - stop playing with them? Life sometimes feels like the Truman show. It was a vegan party, by the way. Do you know what that means? It means sweets that look like chocolate but are not - pretty disappointing I have to say. 

Just before that, I had been to a friend's house who was actually working in Murcia for some months. Funny world, this girl and her sister are Scouts (Apparently there is no way to escape from Scouting, so stop trying. I think they call it Baden Powell's curse). They invited me to join them some Wednesday, when i'll be done with my climbing course  - which by the way was about to end with my life last week, when I had a stressing “girl-you-are-funny-but-embarrassing” moment. That was my instructor’s face when he saw me hanging helpless in the skywalk, tomato blushing, trying to – at least – finish the trail and clear the way for the others. No, that is not me in the picture and NO, you won't see his face even if you try hard.

It looks easy right? I hate these climbing children, they destroy my self-esteem, and besides, they speak perfect German. Anyway, my pride was weak there as well, but I pulled myself together, more skillfully than in the biking episode. However, “this is another story and shall be told another time”, and this is a neverending post already, and I am sure you want to go to bed or something.

That is how a series of coincidences take me to another March abroad. Sun is shining, birds are singing, days are longer and I found my first grey hair (Laetu, if you are reading this, I want you to know it is not THAT bad). Rock it 26!

* Please read with a Spanish accent or it won't be funny anymore.