N and J making faces at N's birthday dinner.
me, Mirabelle Gardens
Do I live too much in my head? Perhaps. Too much in the past? Well, I try not to. But sometimes the memories and thoughts press so much and they HAVE to come in, they flood in like a torrent and there is nothing I can do to stop them, it would be like stopping a flash flood with just your hands (ie, impossible).
So we fought in Salzburg. Something to do with a can of Red Bull, I think, but the deeper problem, the underlying tension came from the fact that after 6 weeks of backpacking they were both going home, and I was staying. I remember we all bought sandwiches in a cafe, then got kicked out for sitting down. It was funny, because we considered ourselves so worldly, so experienced when in fact we still encountered social barriers on an almost daily basis. It was rainy and cold in Salzburg, and it wasn't until one of our last days that I actually bought a jacket; my leather jacket in fact, that has been through so much with me. Before that I just layered cotton sweaters and froze. But the grey skies and shiny cobble-stoned streets just pulled our spirits down.
N, oh N of the dark hair, dark eyes, and red red lips, N had her birthday in Salzburg, and we celebrated with a huge 3-course meal at a fancy hotel, and though we didn't have champagne (as at mine in Florence) we still got giddy and glowing and pulled everyone's eyes towards us. We skipped home, the three of us linked arms and ran through the dark wet streets, under old archways, and sang out to a group of young people, one of whom carried a guitar. Our love knew no bounds.
A few days later the tension came to a head. J (with her long curly brown hair, freckles, and startling blue eyes) and N were taking a train to London, to fly home, and I would stay and go to school and do more travelling. My time wasn't even half up, and they were celebrating and laughing and talking about seeing their families, the things they would do, and the meals they would eat. All of the sudden, I couldn't stand it. After we got kicked out of the cafe, J said we should drink a can of Red Bull, just for fun. So I bought one, and then both J and N said no, they didn't want any. Then I wanted to eat our sandwiches in a graveyard, which they thought was morbid, so we all flipped out at each other. It was our last fight. When we were standing on the train platform later though, all grievances were forgotten and I stood forlorn and forsaken in the rain. I would not cry, though I was so alone. From having two constant, wonderful companions, I would go to being on my own. But after our last "auf weidersehen's", J cried out "Oh Jane!" in sadness, as the train pulled out, and then I burst into tears. I leaked tears all the way back to my little attic room under the eaves, where I closeted myself until hunger drove me out. I foolishly went back to the hotel where N had had her birthday dinner, and then proceeded to cry into my soup, to the consternation of my male waitor.
I am not one to feel sorry for myself for very long, so I picked myself up the next day and explored Salzburg even more. I made friends with a young newly-wed couple, and while not enjoying myself immensely, definitely managed to gain character. After a few days I left for school in Schladming.