Everyone got use to set rules and live in that kind of “proper” way. When did the rules become a typical life? When did your mom say to be one of the thousands sheep in this abnormal world? When did your brain kill the individuality and form a bubble of stereotypes and fear? Sorry, I am not playing this game. Listen to my story that brought me here, to you. She was walking in the dark cold Italian
night, had so much bright lipstick and enormous earrings. She passed some buildings, took a cigarette and started quickly smoking. A fat smiling man called her Ballerina. He was standing in food track full of the fattest food I have ever seen in my life. She laughed and headed to him. She was the only solution to our nightmare. We were sick and tired of policemen asking us if we were ok, looking at us as we were prostitutes (no idea how they came up with it seeing us in 3 scarves and uggs). We just couldn’t go any more. 20 km in suburban area of Milano that looked like the poorest part of post communist countries and two lost girls who just wanted to find bus station. No one wanted to help, despite the homeless man with a dog. He was sweet.
“Hi! Can you help us? We have got lost…Ballerina?”
“Hola! No hablo ingles!”. I have heard Spanish so many times but still couldn’t say a world in it. “German, Polish, Russian.. Don’t think you speak Ukrainian, do you? Haha” I was struggling of cold.
“No…” That was one of the biggest challenges. I took a piece of dirty towel and started drawing. Bus. Girls. Ukraine. Plane. Clock. House and fire (that had to mean a need of a warm place. No one understood it). Then lots of Spanish words. Lots.
“Burger? Cold you?” The tastiest food in my whole life. The most desired and the most needed thing that night. These Brazilians knew a Ukrainian girl who was seeking for happiness in Milano. She spoke Italian. Ballerina called her. Finally, 3 am, 20 km and we were saved. They took us to their home. Three floors of tiny rooms, one above another. It was typical place for artists, and drug dealers. The smell of marijuana stroke us. Four strangers of different nationalities and colors brought chairs and water. “Do you wanna smoke with us?” Thanks God they spoke English. We got a roof and smiles. That night was the best one. I broke a barrier. I came out of my little bubble. “Never talk to strangers” – Forget it. Go and do it. No matter what language you speak, what your roots are, education and financial state. We are equal when asking for help. We think together, we draw together, smoke together and eat fatty burgers. Then we spent whole night talking, fell asleep, looked back, smiled and went away. That is an adventure. My own. My first step. That’s a drug. You will never be able to resist to taking risks and travels. It consumes you. You become addicted. And listen to me right now. Stop your miserable boring in-bubbled life. Break it and choose this kind of drugs. And I am not here to tell you where to go, what to see or eat and I am not gonna give a list of best pubs in Belgium or best parties in Germany. I will make you go there and ask a stranger these questions. I am here to convince you that borders exist only in you brain. I am here to show you the youth like you all around the world and to make you want to become unique and out-bubbled. So here we start!
