The Chronicles of Barcelona, Part XIV – Dominic and Pickup Sticks

While taking this photo, I met some kid.

I was sitting alone (see previous post) which really in my opinion makes for far easier friend making. Anyway. He was talking on his cell to someone…in Chinese. Oh, by the way, he’s British. Like, actual British. White-skinned British. Goes to school in France. But speaks Chinese. Quite well, if I must say.

He was with his French friend (who just looked French…does anyone else know what I mean? They didn’t), who was quite quiet and shy and didn’t say much.

But Dominic was nice. We talked for a bit, as much as you can when you’re sitting on a beach and you just met and know nothing about each other.

It turned out that we were staying in the same hostel, and out of courtesy he invited me along to go clubbing with him and his friends that night. I, of course, declined, with the excuse of being really tired and probably turning in early if not going out with my friends. Which was true. I excused myself a while afterwards and went back to the hostel to go online in the gaming/Internet room…only to fall asleep.

And wake up to see him sitting on the couch opposite me smiling.

Which is soo much creepier in text than it was in real life.

I opened my eyes and he goes, “Thought you’d like to see a friendly face when you woke up.”

It was sweet. Sort of.

In any case, we got to talking for a little while, which was much easier since there were other people there.

He tried reading from sort of Swiss book…it was funny. …okay it doesn’t sound funny in text but it was.

And then we played pick up sticks.

Yup. I met a British guy who goes to school in France and speaks Chinese on the beach in Spain and we played an incredibly intense, nearly hour long game of pick up sticks.

It was brilliant.

PS: And no, I’m not using that word because I went to study abroad in England, those who know me know I use it, just because I’m me. Thanks.

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