I’ve been reluctant to write about my recent trip to Portugal, Spain and Morocco.
Not because it was terrible or anything. I just feel like no words can describe the experiences I had while I was there, and I’m not even sure I want to share everything I experienced because I want it to stay close to my heart.
Going into the trip, I was excited for some superficial things. I was SO ready to have my own travel photos to post on Instagram, as well as a Jay Alvarrez-inspired video with only the best EDM song and most beautiful scenery. I was ready to come back and tell the world about what I did, what I saw, what I ate and who I met, but as soon as I landed in Portugal it was as if all my intentions for the trip dissolved.
I hit the ground running from the minute I got to Lisbon, and maybe it was the all-nighter I pulled on the plane, but my only focus was making it to my first destination, Seville. Plans derailed when I ended up having motion sickness in Faro, and after a few hours passed out sleeping in my hostel, I was able to start enjoying the trip -- for myself.
My expectation was I would be writing everything down, from the restaurants I was eating at to the sights I was seeing. In reality I was more interested in the company I was keeping, which was actually with my old high school sweetheart. People acted as if I lost my mind when I told them I would be traveling to a third-world country with an ex, but we always enjoyed a good challenge, and it was the best decision I could have made about the trip. There was something about being in a foreign country with someone who felt like family, because I had the chance to observe my surroundings with a sense of safety and familiarity. Plus, he pretty much paid for everything the first day and understood bus schedules which was totally great.
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