In the summer of 2014, I went to France and England with my mother and my aunt.
It was really fun. I got to see the Eiffel Tower and Stonehenge and lots of other cool things that I might get into later. But boy did I have jetlag for the first few days in Paris. I could barely stay awake. I wanted to stay awake so I didn’t miss anything, being on vacation in a foreign country and all. But I’d be awake, and then I’d randomly fall asleep in my wheelchair, head back and mouth open catching flies.
I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the pictures. Yes, either my mom or my aunt took pictures of me while I was passed out cold. I don’t really know why, but if I had to guess, they wanted to capture the hilarity that was me sleeping with my mouth open, and, I don’t know, save it for posterity or something.
All of that aside, I really enjoyed the vacation. We went to Westminster Abbey and saw all the famous people who were buried there. My inner English nerd was in Heaven. And Stratford upon Avon was really cool too. Because, you know, Shakespeare is really cool. At least for me, haha.
Something about Europe – England in particular – just felt right to me. I can’t really explain it, but I could see myself living there one day. And of course, I still want to go to Spain. Maybe I’ll live there some day.
Either way, I have to go back to Europe. Preferably sooner rather than later.