Having Two Moods Is Only Normal
And they are absolutely out of control.
I have two moods — that are absolutely out of my control.
Mood 1: I’m happy to meet new people. Scratch that. Ecstatic to meet new people. My sense of humor doesn’t let me down, I manage to be charming (somehow) and I can tolerate almost anything — loud chewers included (if seated at an appropriate distance away from me).
Mood 2: I’m a shame to humanity. Maybe not as much as Trump but I cannot stand being around people. In other words, don’t drag me to a mall. The music is going to be too loud. People walk too close to me, even breathe too loud. And the eclairs I nonchalantly check-out in the bakery’s window are not even worth my time. I’m the Grinch. Except less green and for non-Christmassy purposes.
So, when I was back in Barcelona, after a leg-spaceless four-hour flight (do people who make airplanes know that people cannot retract their legs into their knees?), I had only one (two) thought(s): bed (and food).
I jogged with my carry-on to passport control where the queue was too long to my liking. I tried my best to humor the guy who wanted to practice his Spanish with me. First of all, I did not know I looked Spanish. I got Chinese, Thai and Hawaiian. Never Spanish. Two, I’m an A2. My Spanish was rusty and if that conversation would drag for a couple of minutes more, that guy was set to a huge disappointment.
I was on my way to the metro when I hear a voice: “Sorry? Which way to the metro?”
Lama, which one was it gonna be? Mood 1? Or mood 2?
“It’s that way. Follow the sign. You can’t get lost.”
She thanks me. I’m about to walk away when I guilt-trip myself.
“Hey! I’m going in that direction, if you want to follow me.”
She does. With her sister and two big bags. They were from Istanbul and we were on the same plane. They got excited when they found out that I visited their city a couple of years ago. They get even more excited when they learn that I was from Beirut. They would like to visit Lebanon, they had heard great things about it. Of course, I have to give them my quick PESTEL-analysis of the country while encouraging them to go either way. The people are fun, the food is great, we have beaches, we have mountains, etc.
I put my Spanish into practice and translate my conversation with a touristic office to my new Turkish friends. They were staying in Barcelona — which they referred to as my city — for three days and wanted tips on how to make the most out of it. At that time, I hadn’t visited la Sagrada Familia nor had paella but I tried my best.
We had a long metro ride ahead of us and we started talking about what brought me to Barcelona.
Long story short, my studies.
They were retired and they wanted to make the most out of their retirement. They took short trips on a regular basis. The world had a lot to offer and they did not want to miss out on a thing.
“So, you’re a marketer!”
“Yup, I’m doing the Master right now.”
“You know what? Once you graduate, aim for the big companies. It’s tiring and rewarding at the same time. And by tiring, I mean that there’s a lot to learn.”
“Yeah! Be a career woman!”
That was definitely the plan.
I listened to them talk about their experience, wondering what it would be like for me to be on the other side. Post-career. What would I have accomplished? Would I be satisfied with how my life turned out to be?
“Work hard!”
“Keep in mind, that no matter how hard you work, you should have a good time as well. Try new things. Travel. As much as possible. Life is too short to spend it in an office.”
“You’re a student now! In Barcelona! In Europe! Move around as well.”
“You have no idea how lucky you are.”
I didn’t. Mainly because I don’t like tap water and don’t know how to make quinoa salad — the quinoa is too mushy so I end up having just salad.
At Zona Universitaria, we hop off the metro and take different lines. I get off at the next stop and I explain to them where to go.
I drag my carry-on home, thinking about what they said. I don’t nap — just have a small snack instead. I go out for a walk and explore that part of my neighborhood that I never really bothered taking a look at. I end up eating a crepe thinking that chocolate and red fruits beat quinoa by a long shot.
