I've Been Around This Great Big World, Yeah

So, earlier tonight, I found myself writing the following pretentious bullshit to a friend, about the merits of traveling single and alone, vs with a loved one:

"On one hand, you have this nagging feeling that you'd like to share certain experiences with someone special, but on the other hand, there's something intangible and wonderful about hording a special experience all to yourself. I can't really explain it, except to say that I did Dublin alone and grieving when I was 25, then did Paris on my own in the midst of my shipwrecked, alcoholic, self-loathing 26th year, and I know for certain that my time in both cities - alone, but not lonely, speaking to barely anyone for days on end - bookended two big turning points for me personally. By the time I was 31 my head was finally in the right place to share Budapest."

Wow, I sure love to hear myself talk. I would hate someone for writing that kind of esoteric crap to me.....seriously.

But since I am basically a self-important twit, I'll indulge the germ of an idea it gave me.....and you know, germs, they're icky.

I've got a story for each and every country I've visited, and some of them are even worth telling. Before I forget (because I'm at the point where if I don't write shit down its gone forever), here's a word on every place I've been:

Canada: fling

Mexico: drunk

Ireland: grief

England: friends

(no, no wait....can I change that to "pinching an Australian girl's bum?" No? Ok, I'll go with "friends" then).

France: forgiveness

Czech Republic: love

Hungary: romance

I hate myself when I write this kind of shit. I really, really do.