I’m currently sitting in a terrace, and it happens to be the café of a 4-star hotel. it made me think of Chete, when I went to the lobby to ask for the toilets. We were studying of our Spanish exam in a park, and the only place where we could get toilets was the Sonesta Hotel nearby. We begged them to let us go pee, ashamed of our request and they were nice with us. How far have I got to know now how to do the same thing, 5 years later, but with more confidence. At the same time, now I can pay for a 2€ coffee (I just got the bill, and it actually costed 2.50€).
The amount of surfers here is astonishing, as well as the ratio of Billabong and Quiksilver stores per square metre. Although it’s a beautiful city, I feel that I would have felt better in Bayonne, without this heavy « classy tourist » atmosphere, as in Cannes. Nevertheless, Cannes is still a more well-known city, thanks to the Cannes Festival.
When I started this trip, I couldn’t help but to notice that there is something weird growing inside me: I’m becoming less interested in other people’s life. I don’t know if I should qualify this as good or bad, because people seem to treat me as the world has always treated me. I speak less, I listen and become more and more lost in my own thoughts. I have realised that the reason I travel is not really to make friends, although I don’t try to avoid them. I just don’t feel obliged to be sociable.
Travelling is starting to become a way to become emotionally independent, and therefore, a way to hang out with myself, not depending on others. Stopping giving carelessly to others and starting enjoying something by myself. I like casual encounters that last a few minutes but that remain in my heart deeper than a long conversation.
Like what just happened a few minutes ago. I am writing with my earphones on to avoid the children crying next to me (yes, call me insensitive but crying children get me to the nerves). Their mother was clearly having a hard time trying to calm them down. When their father took one of them with him to pay the bill, she asked the waiter for a biscuit (the one that they serve with your coffee), and he replied that she could get one at the bar, that there was not problems with that. I overheard their conversation, and offered mine instead. I am not used to eating the Speculoos with my coffee anyway. She gladly accepted and handed it to his crying child, who stopped sobbing inmediately.
When they left, she told me « Au revoir » and this child, who had been crying all the way until he got his snack, came to me and said « Danke schön ». I replied with a smile: « Bitte schön ». Just a simple act of politeness like that made me forget my grumpyness and reminded me that small details are what make any holiday, and everyday, special.
Café de Paris, Biarritz. 19/09/2016.