Eurotrip

This story is about decisions made for the Wrong Reasons, whether or not that decision is good or bad. This story is one of Rachael's favorites, even though she was not actually anywhere around during the events about to be described. Many of you have actually probably heard this story already, but I was thinking about it recently for some reason so now I'm going to share it again.

**Names have been changed to protect the Totally Insane.

As we all know, I spent a lot of time living in Europe during what many may call my longest lapse of judgment to date. One of the nice things about living in Europe though was all the vacation France gives you combined with the fact that Europe is like the size of Pennsylvania which makes it easy to take awesome vacations. As I mentioned months ago, one of these vacations was in Iceland. I know I promised to tell that story eventually and I never have, but this is STILL not the story about vacation in Iceland.

This is a story about my friend **Mariana** and how her complete insanity led her to learn English. Also some California surfers.

**Mariana** one of my dearest, most beloved, most completely craziest friends is from a Latin American country and lived with me in our little boarding house in Moissac. Her native language is Spanish, mine is English. My Spanish isn't fluent, and she spoke absolutely no English, so our language together has always been French.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION is that **Mariana** explained to me on the very first day we met how she hated the United States. She called us the Imperialist Capitalist Materialist Enemy Nation of Evil, and told me how she would never, EVER learn English, the hateful language of the Imperialist Capitalist Materialist Enemy.

We went on several trips together during our time there, but this one was easily the most...action packed. Between Christmas and New Year's we went from Moissac to Toulouse to Paris to Barcelona to Madrid to Lisbon to Madrid to Paris and back home.
Many, many things happened on this trip, many crazy adventures were had, many trains and planes were nearly missed and I did in fact actually fall asleep inside my own suitcase between 6 and 6:30 in the morning on New Year's Day. Many stories were made in this one week.

But THIS story, this story is only about one particular night in Lisbon, and the rest is just backdrop. We are somewhat after Christmas but still just before New Year's Eve. It is our first day in Lisbon and we are SO TIRED.


It was Saturday night and our hostel was just blocks away from Barrio Alto, THE party district in Lisbon, possibly Portugal, possibly the world as far as I'm concerned. I've certainly never been anywhere that comes close to matching it. But we made a joint decision that we were going to wash up, find a nice dinner, and go straight to bed at 9:00 p.m. Otherwise we could very well die. When we arrived at the hostel and found our 6 person room, **Mariana** growled from the doorway.
"BOY clothes, Danielle. There are BOYS here. I hate BOYS. Boys are LOUD and STUPID and...and...and why do there have to be BOYS."
"It'll be okay, maybe they won't even come back tonight, it's Saturday. I'm sure they'll be out in Barrio Alto and we'll never even notice them. I'm going to use the bathroom, I'll be right back and we'll go get dinner."
"grumblegrumblegrumble," collapse on bed, "grumblegrumblegrumble."
I swear, I was in the bathroom for no more than five or six minutes. No way it was more. But when I came back to the room to get **Mariana**, she was unrecognizable. She was sitting on the bed cross-legged, staring blankly towards the doorway with a smile. When I walked into the room, she emitted a siiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh and said, "Danielle, we are absolutely going out tonight."
Needless to say, I was VERY confused. "What? Out? Is that a joke? What for?"
Instead of a straight answer, all I got was another sigh and the words, "For that..."
I turned to see where she was staring and nearly smacked into one of the most well built, attractive boys I had seen in person.

I know exactly how well muscled he was because he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"Uuuuuh...hi...hello..." I said. I had no idea where he was from or what language he spoke.
"Hey! I hear you girls are coming out with us tonight," he said in American English.
"Oh...did you? How did you hear that?"
"Your friend and I were talking."
I cannot explain this part to you, I cannot at all explain how this boy and **Mariana** talked at all since he spoke no Spanish and she spoke no English. It is a lesson to us all, my friends, and the lesson is this: forget love, it is Lust that Conquers All.
We chatted for another moment or two, and then I asked, "Are you by yourself or with friends?"
"I'm here with two friends, we're on a surfing trip."
It was like we were in a movie and they were cued. Two more equally shaped boys wearing towels stepped into the doorway.
There was an audible strangled sigh from the bed behind me. I can't imagine the boys didn't hear it, but they must have chosen to politely ignore it.
Long story short, I talked with them briefly about going out plans and told them we'd meet them back in our room after we were done with dinner. I had to drag **Mariana** from the room.
"No! Danielle! I don't need dinner! We can't leave them alone! What if they disappear? What if they leave without us? How can you eat at a time like this?"
Our compromise was that we went into the first restaurant she saw, not far from the hostel, which meant that on our one night out in Portugal we had some kind of Asian food.
The things we do for overpowering lust.
While we waited for our food, the little anti-Imperialist Capitalist Materialist who swore she would never learn the terrible language of the Enemy said to me, "QUICK TEACH ME ENGLISH! ALL OF IT! RIGHT NOW!"
She did eventually concede that it was not feasible for me to teach her the entire English language over dinner and still not spend more than 20 minutes away from our surfers. In Madrid, over the course of another ridiculous story, she had already picked up "I am so hot for you, baby," and "I love you man." She spent a few minutes picking the perfect third sentence to learn in English.

Which was this: "I would like to take a picture of you, but without the t-shirt."

"What are you going to say when this poor guy asks WHY you are asking to take a picture of him half naked?"

Her answer was simple, and we learned the very short sentence, "Because it is necessary."

We ate dinner quickly, headed back, and much to **Mariana**'s happiness, the Americans had waited for us. We did actually have an awesome night out, and I've never been anywhere quite like Barrio Alto ever again. Much of the night was spent with **Mariana** spouting French and saying, "Translate that Danielle!" and smiling flirtatiously at the American of her choice.
The downside of partying with Americans is that while we were used to the European system of start the party at 2 a.m. and finish sometime after dawn, these little American boys were done with the party by 3, just when we were getting started. We all ended up going back to the hostel, where I went straight to my suitcase to get my pajamas and GO TO BED, when all of a sudden I heard a heavily accented, sultry voice behind me say, "Can I take a picture of you without t-shirt?"
In the time it took for her to finish the sentence, and before I had even turned around, the surfer this was directed at had ALREADY ripped off his shirt. **Mariana** tossed me her camera as he picked her up. I have NEVER BEEN FORGIVEN for messing around with the camera, unsure of how to turn it on, and only getting a picture with his head cut off, completely tilted, of her falling out of his arms.
But his abs are nicely centered in the picture, and this is the only reason I was not murdered in Lisbon in December of 2007.

We slept, we left the hostel the next morning, and continued on with our vacation and then with our lives. **Mariana** began punching me repeatedly in the arm any time we were anywhere and heard American accents ("THEY COULD BE FROM CALIFORNIA DANIELLE"). She started talking about visiting the Capitalist Imperialist Materialist Enemy nation of America ("Do you live near California, Danielle? Why not? Would you consider moving?")
The following year **Mariana** began classes at the University and made the decision to study English. No more was it ever again called the language of the enemy. It was now the language of seducing unsuspecting young men from California.

Fin

That entire story is true. Un-exaggerated, un-embellished. Some people, however, on hearing the end of the story will say to me, "Danielle, there's no way that's the whole story. Three guys like that and you let **Mariana** have all the fun? There's more to this." Sometimes I'll deny it.

Of course, when I do, I'm lying.