Okay yes….I left Bordeaux when I wasn’t even halfway in the healing process from my broken ankle but hear me out- it was so worth it. I feel like I’ve become alive again. I feel like the old me, who I was before I broke my ankle, except that’s not entirely true. I feel braver, more capable, more proud of myself than I ever thought I’d be. 

I spent the last week in Barcelona, Spain and it was incredible. But let me back up to before my travel day from Bordeaux because it’s a doozy. 

I spent most of the day blogging and waiting to get into my new room. I got settled in and ventured off to the supermarket to find some food for dinner. I also took some of my belongings to a UPS drop off station, hoping I’d be able to ship some things home to lighten the load with my broken leg. I bought the cutest shoes for fall when I was in Brugge, Belgium and there was no way I was leaving them behind. The store wasn’t what I was looking for sadly so I thought I’d try a different place in the morning. 

Later that evening, I met my new roommates. One of them was named Chris and he was my favorite. Easy for me to remember because of my Chris. He was from the Southern California in the United States but he’s been living in France for 20 years now. He met a French woman, married her, settled down and started a family in France. They moved back and forth between Germany and France a couple times and they have two children, a son and daughter. They’ve been divorced for a while due to growing apart. He lives in a small French village now on the border of Switzerland and it sounds incredible. He spends half the year in Scandinavia working on repairing boats as well. What a life. It really sparked my interest in moving to France. Chris and I spent a lot of time talking about life. That’s another thing I love about traveling and meeting other travelers. You connect really quickly, have deep and meaningful conversations where you learn everything about someone from their roots to who they are now, and then sadly you never see them again. Chris was incredible and really funny. It’s funny because ever since I broke my leg, I’ve taken a lot of comfort in meeting other travelers from America, whereas I didn’t feel that way before. It just makes me feel more comfortable feeling like I have some sense of “home” while I’m “sick” if you know what I mean. 

I went downstairs before bed because my laundry was just being finished. I ran into Souleymane again (that French man who I shared a room with before who told me he had feelings for me). Souleymane’s smile is always so bright. It lights up a room. He’s just always happy and positive and gives off great energy. I really ike being around him even though we have a language barrier. But we’re able to get by with my French and his English. He caught me before I was getting on the elevator and he asked me why I wasn’t in his room anymore. I told him the room we shared together was all booked so I had to change rooms. I told him I was leaving for Spain in the morning because the hostel was completely booked and they didn’t have room for me. He was so sad to hear that I was leaving. I was sad to be leaving as well. I’ve spent the last three weeks in France, 2.5 of them being in Bordeaux at this hostel. I came to know the area like the back of my hand, got to know the hostel staff well, made friends with the locals, and was living my best local French life. We shared our goodbyes, hugged, said we hoped to see each other again one day. I said, “I’ll be back- don’t worry!” But the truth is, this is how every goodbye goes. It’s always like, “if you’re ever in ‘XYZ country’ let me know- I’ll host you!” The reality is, you make these promises knowing you’ll never see the person standing in front of you again. I think we continue making them anyways just so the goodbye doesn’t hurt so much. It still hurts though. I’ve been traveling so long now that I think the goodbyes are somehow exceeding the hellos. As someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, it’s difficult for me. Every relationship I build and every connection I make means a lot to me. 

As I was getting in the elevator, Souleymane stood outside it. I turned to look back at him. He was hopping up and down, running his hands down his face in distress that I was going. He asked me to please stay. I said I couldn’t. I had to keep moving forward in my journey. I’ll never, ever in my life forget watching his heart break in front of me while the elevator doors closed. That was the last time I saw him. My heart broke, too.

I grabbed my things to take a shower and walked into the shower room where I found a man who introduced himself as Mooraine which means moon. He was from Morocco. He told me he wears his heart on his sleeve always and has felt a broken heart too many times to count. He then confessed to me that he struggles with a drinking problem because of it. We talked for a long time in that shower room. Before I left, he told me he will never, ever forget me because he always remembers everyone who was actually nice to him. That broke my heart for him.

Chris (my roomie) and I stayed up pretty late chatting. He’s an incredibly interesting person. I fell asleep sad and anxious that night. Sad for the goodbyes I made that night and would have to make in the morning. I didn’t want to leave France. I didn’t want to leave my friends, or my routine. But if I’m being honest- I think I was starting to feel depressed. This is how I always get when I get into a routine, no matter where I am in life. It should be normal at my age to have a good, stable routine, but for me- it’s a nightmare. I thrive off adventure and exploration and different scenary. I am not someone to stay stagnant in one place. I was also feeling anxious about the train ride in the morning. There are multiple large steps you need to take getting into those international trains with interrail. I had no idea how I was going to do that with my bags. 

I woke up the next morning early so I could take an Uber to La Post which is France’s version of the post office. Before I left to do that, my roommate, Chris, sat down and took the time to fix my scooter for me in the morning. I put it together facing backwards and couldn’t figure out how to turn it around so the basket would face the other way (like it was supposed to) and give me more room. He also fixed it so the scooter won’t turn sharp anymore. I haven’t fall off my scooter since. It’s so much safer for me so I am so appreciative of him for that. Chris reminded me multiple times how brave I was for continuing my journey even with my broken ankle. He says anyone else would’ve gone home to heal, including myself. He told me it says so much about who I am as a person and that it was incredible. He really lifted my spirits with these words. I needed to hear them at the time. He left me with the departing words, “maybe we will run into each other again in some place in this world,” and that broke my heart too. 

I grabbed my Uber to La Poste with my belongings. It was my first time getting into a vehicle with my scooter and it folds down perfectly and so easily. As soon as I walk into La Poste, I see multiple large, lit up signs with the words in French that translate to, “we are no longer sending any parcels to the United States of America until further notice, we apologize for the inconvenience.” I was immediately stressed. What, why, how? I walked up to one of the workers and asked if I could ship my items home to America. He shook his head and apologized, saying they cannot ship anything to the US currently. I begged, “please, I broke my leg here in Bordeaux, I have to send some things home because my bags are too heavy for me to carry with one leg, it is not safe. I am traveling to Spain today and have to catch my train soon.” He looked at me with pity in his eyes. He said gently, “let me see what I can do for you.” He left, came back a few minutes later, and said quietly, “okay, we can ship this package home to help you. But we have to be dishonest about the worth of the contents inside.” Fine. I will lie about whatever you need me to lie about so that I can get this shipped as soon as possible so I can catch my train and have a safer trip. We filled out some forms and I was able to ship my belongings home. It cost me an extra 40 euros due to the US tariffs. Thanks for that daddy Trump. I am so grateful for the man at the post office who helped me out. He was so kind and you could tell he really wanted to help me. He was French- of course he was kind and helpful. 

I grabbed an Uber back to my hostel, grabbed my belongings, and walked downstairs to share the rest of my goodbyes. I said goodbye to the staff at Whoo Hostel. They were so accommodating and helpful, never making me feel like a burden. They told me they loved having me, and I thanked them endlessly for everything they did for me. I will never forget them, ever. They were sad goodbyes. That seems to be theme of my life at this point. 

I caught another Uber to the Bordeaux-Saint-Jean main train station. I went an hour early so I could find my train and try to figure out how the hell I was going to get on it. I found my terminal and it was just a bunch of stairs leading up. No ramp or elevator. Great. I’m stressed. I found a coffee shop to sit out and ordered a massive coffee. I figured this would help my anxiety (not). It was the first coffee I’ve found since coming to Europe that had flavor in it, not including the UK. I was so excited. I stood up with my coffee and was trying to collect my bags but I was really struggling. There was a group of 6 men from the United States sitting directly next to me. I made eye contact with them as I was fighting for my life trying to get my bags on my back. I was clearly struggling and they saw it, but didn’t offer to help. Was I surprised? Not one bit. The local French people saw what was happening and immediately came over to me to offer to help. Was I surprised at this? Once again, not one bit. I knew I was going to be cared for when the French were around. The Americans? Not so much. I was pissed at the people from my own country once again. 

I feel like I’m always a helpful person no matter where I am but I learned a lot from the French and want to take their mannerisms with me wherever I go. I want to learn to be more on the lookout for others struggling, and offer to step in to help whenever and however I can. I feel like I already do this but I want to be even more aware of it. They taught me a lot about what it means to be apart of a community and take care of your people. I’m hoping this will rub off on people back home as well.

When I talk about America, I hope you guys know I’m not talking shit. I have always loved my country, I respect every single person who’s ever fought for our country, but I’m very disappointed in it. I am just sharing my experiences being abroad and sharing the differences that I notice. I’m not ignorant enough to believe that anywhere is perfect. Every country has their issues. Just because I prefer a specific lifestyle in a different country doesn’t mean I absolutely hate mine.

I stand next to the stairs to get to my train, looking up. Trying to figure out how I’m going to get up there. A lady offers to go up and find someone who works there to come down and help me. I sadly had to throw away my entire flavorful coffee so I could get up the stairs. The lady brings a man back who takes all my bags and my scooter and carries everything to the top. He then comes back down and lets me hook onto his right arm with my left, and then I used my right arm to grab the railing and hop myself up every single one of those stairs. We then did the same thing to get into the train. He was so very kind. He offered me a free spot in the disability center and then gave me free water. It was awesome. I had so much space to myself the entire trip. He also called someone for me at the next train station to help me since I had to switch trains unfortunately. We make it to the next train station, a worker comes to help me and my belongings out of the train, and of course there’s no elevator because Europe doesn’t believe in them (I’m dramatic). A stranger offered to carry my big pack for me and my scooter and another man helped me hop all the way down the stairs and up the next flight of the other one. I had no idea where the man with my big bag went by the time the rest of us made it to the top of the stairs and was to the point where I really didn’t care anymore. Did he run off with it? Who knows, who cares. I had to hop up and down SO many stairs to get to the next platform, it was unreal. I twisted my right ankle hopping up on it towards the end and I thought that was the end for me. If I break my right ankle, this is a done deal. I was so stressed and tired that I just started crying. Those poor big strong men were rubbing my back and smiling at me and being so sweet and I was this American girl with a broken leg having a little menty b at the train station in France. I was just frustrated. I thanked everyone who helped me multiple times. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.

Someone then helped me onto my next train. It’s a Spanish train so now all the workers were Spaniards and I could tell- they were not as nice or accommodating as the French, but still kind. They told me I couldn’t take my scooter to my seat with me so I had to leave Scooty behind with my bags and hop all the way to my next seat. I literally couldn’t stand to be away from Scooty. I have an anxious attachment disorder from her now. She has brought me back to life and I’m completely reliant on her. So I hopped all the way back to her and sat in the middle of the train so I could be next to her for the duration of my trip. The worker came back and was very kind to me. He started speaking to me very quickly in Spanish and at first I was like, “what the helly are you saying?” but then remembered I’m no longer in France, I’m in Spain so I had to shut my French brain off, turn my Spanish brain on and then I knew what he was saying to me. He told me he called someone to help me get off the train at the next stop which was Barcelona thankfully. 

During the train ride, a woman in her 30’s came to sit next to me. She was from China. She asked me about my leg, I told her the story. She couldn’t believe I continued traveling. She said she would’ve 100% gone home immediately. She actually called me a hero and told me my story was very inspiring. She asked me to take a photo together and then a photo of me on the train with my broken leg. 

We spent a lot of time on the train getting to know each other. She told me I could call her Xixi (Cici) She said she has a husband and a child and that’s the norm in China. You become an adult and are expected to marry and start a family. She loved my story about leaving everything behind and coming to Europe on a one way ticket. She loved the freedom of that and wished she could do the same thing. She then told me she got an accepted visa 3 months ago to come to America, but she backed out last minute because she was very scared of the guns and was scared she would get shot if she came there. I shit you not, she said this to me. So she chose to come to Europe instead. That’s probably for the best right now. I’m also scared of getting shot in America.

She followed me off the train and said we could find a taxi together. When we got to the train station in Barcelona, the workers came over with this huge automated platform. They brought down one side of it to create a ramp for me to get off the train. Which was humiliating having everyone standing behind me to watch. I scooted onto the platform and they closed it, rolling me away, then proceeded to lift down the other side into a ramp for me to get off. Security led me in front of everyone in line and took me up the elevator first. I was getting first class treatment here. They then led Xixi and I out of that area. We met this girl named Seralyn who was giving us advice on the best way to get around Barcelona. Seralyn was awesome. I immediately vibed with her. She moved out of the United States 11 years ago and never looked back. She’s living in Barcelona now and absolutely loves the lifestyle. She said she just couldn’t take life in the US anymore and had to get out of there. We exchanged contact information and agreed to go for a drink while I was in town. Xixi and a man helped me and my belongings get into a taxi so I could make it to my hostel. I just met Xixi but I was sad to say goodbye. She gave me her contact information and told me to come to China to visit her. I agreed, as I always do, and said goodbye to my new friend who I knew I’d never see again.

I made it to my hostel and already loved Barcelona. It is so colorful and lively. The hostel I was staying at is massive and incredibly social. I made friends immediately, within minutes. They offered me to come out with them and every single person I came across during my stay in Barcelona wanted to know my story with the broken ankle. Every single person has told me they would’ve gone home right away, no one would have stayed. People have consistently told me how incredible and brave it is that I have continued on my journey despite my set back. I just say to people, “you can either sink or swim. I chose to swim.” I had a man reply to me on my last day when I said this, “and even though it may be difficult to swim at first, it will get easier.” I really loved that because it’s so true. I kept swimming and now it’s almost effortless. Except for the travel days. I genuinely have had so many people tell me that my story is inspiring. It makes me proud of myself. I didn’t keep going for anyone else but myself. I came on this journey for a reason. I wasn’t going to let a silly broken ankle hold me back.

I declined the invitation to go out in Barcelona my first night. My new friends gave me the nickname of “broken leg”. I went out to find some food and went to sleep. I had 9 hours on the trains and I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I was in an 8 bed dorm and most of my roommates were Australian. It’s funny because it’s like sharing a room with Americans. Australians are very loud and outgoing. You don’t really get much sleep when sharing a room with them. But they’re always kind at least. My bunkmate’s name is Jack and he’s American. Originally from North Carolina. He moved to Europe four years ago. He said he also had to get out of there and doesn’t even like to go back home to visit at this point. He said he’s scared of the direction the US is heading.

I woke up feeling exhausted still. I decided to have a beach day. I took a bus down to Barceloneta Beach. On the bus, I met two ladies in their 60s from Australia. They’re sisters and they’ve been traveling for 8 weeks together around Spain. They live together back home as well. No husbands, no children, living their best lives. I love that for them. We talked the whole half hour bus ride getting to know each other. They were a hoot and a half. I hope that’s me and my sister living together one day and just traveling the world.I rode the boardwalk for a long time. The beach was beautiful. The ocean has always been and will always be my favorite place, no matter where I am. I parked my scooter and laid out for a few hours. I had a man approach me and offered me a drink. We talked for a long time. He was from Pakistan. About an hour later, I had another man approach me and offer me a drink. He was from Morocco. He asked me if I had a boyfriend and I said yes. I genuinely just wanted to enjoy my beach day reading my book in peace and quiet. 

After I laid out on the beach, I went on the hunt for some authentic paella. I love paella and haven’t had it since I was in Costa Rica. I found a spot, ordered a beer and some paella de mariscos (seafood). It was incredible. While I was enjoying my meal, I heard a bunch of commotion and looked up to see that a man had tried stealing a bike that one of the customers parked on the side of the building. The worker noticed it and stopped it right away. The man that the woman was on a date with immediately got up and started yelling at the man who attempted the bike theft. I thought a fight was about to break out. The theif was so swift about it, I didn’t even notice he did it. Spain is very well known for pickpocketing and theft. Especially in Barcelona. I’ve heard multiple stories from others about their phones and wallets being stolen without them even realizing it. Even if you’re walking with your phone in your hand, it’ll be snatched from you. Or leaving your phone/wallet on the table at restaurants. You have to be very, very careful.

I woke up the next morning excited to do some site seeing. It’s so sunny and warm in Barcelona- I love it. I walk down the entire strip of La Rambla. There are shops, cafes, and street performers everywhere. The street is packed. I made it down to the port where all the yachts were parked. I sat with my scooter to rest and took in the views and then ventured on. I stopped at Mercat de la Boqueria. It’s this massive market with maybe 50-100 stands of different foods and things to buy. I tried a couple things I’ve never had before. It took me a long time to stroll through the whole market. It was beautiful and so fun to see all the different cultural foods. 

I kept walking until I hit Placa Reial. I walked around the fountain, taking in the views and found a cute place to enjoy some coffee before I ventured on. I then made my way to Ciutat Vella and explored that neighborhood. I used to be the red light district but has since transformed. I didn’t spend a lot of time there as I was really the only female walking around and the vibes didn’t feel very safe. I was cat called multiple times and there’s not really much I can do right now to defend myself on one leg and a scooter. The area was really interesting though. 

I met this man named Pranv when I was in Naples, Italy three months ago. He stayed at my hostel and we had so much fun together in Naples. He saw I was in Barcelona from my Instagram stories and reached out, saying he was there too. We met up that evening for some drinks. He was there in Naples when I had my SVT episode and almost died. When we did our first cheers, he just barely touched his glass against mine. He said I was so fragile he was scared he would hurt something. A group of his friends later joined us. It was so good to catch up with him and meet his friend group as well. Everyone was so kind. Pranv is from India, one of his friends is from there, four of them are from Turkey, and was from SErbia. I learned that in Northern India, people do not eat meat whatsoever and in southern India, they eat white meat. It’s not common for people in India to eat red meat. Cows are also considered sacred to them. Cows roam around the entire country like dogs do for us. They told me you’ll find them everywhere, even on the streets.  I learned a lot about Turkey as well from the girls. I went to my first nightclub since breaking my ankle and it was so fun.

A fight broke out in the club and a man threw a glass bottle at another man’s head. They walked past us with blood running down the man’s face. They were escorted outside and continued fighting out there. Pranv was so sweet and kind to me and took really good care of me. I strolled up to the bar to order a drink alone and a man came right up to me right away and started flirting. Pranv saw what was happening and walked over to end the conversation and take me back to the group. I thanked him for saving me. But he was so attentive to me and my injury. Throughout the night he always made sure I was cared for and comfortable. He even took the bus back with me and walked me back to my hostel to make sure I made it back safely. He couldn’t believe I was still backpacking through Europe with my leg. He told me multiple times how amazing and inspiring I was for that. I gave him an American dollar which he’d write my name on and show his children one day and say it was from “Aunt Kali who went around Europe with a broken leg.” He said he couldn’t wait to share my story with his grandmother and would tell his children about it one day. I learned a lot about Pranv on our journey home. We talked about what his childhood was like and how it was for him when his parents divorced and the struggles he has with different family members and living outside the norms and taboos in an Indian society. I loved getting to know this side of him. We shared our goodbyes and hoped to see each other again one day. It was really good to see him. I made it back to my hostel at almost 5 o’clock in the morning. I was too old to be staying out that late. I didn’t get up until almost 3 pm the next day. 

The next morning (or afternoon I should say), I found a cute cafe called the Corgi Cafe. The entire place is corgi themed. They have a couple of them in the cafe. I walked in and sat down. One of the corgis walked over to me, sniffed my scooter, then my leg with the cast on it and plopped down right beside me and layed there the entire time I was at the cafe. It warmed my heart. I think he knew I was hurt or something. I ordered some coffee and breakfast and spent a lot of time petting the corgi.

I spent the rest of the day exploring the city. I went to explore the gothic quarters where I found multiple street performances by the Barcelona Cathedral that I watched and an antique market that I shopped around at, but everything was incredibly expensive. I walked down to the beach so I could watch the sunset there. I found a man playing his guitar on the beach. I sat and listened to him forever, mesmerized by his voice and the views around me. I was soaking it all in. The sky was painted light pink over the ocean and it was truly beautiful. I was so lucky to be experiencing that. I stayed past dark, got some dinner and took the bus back to my hostel area. I then ventured down to look at the fountains lit up and stroll through La Ramba again. There was a protest going on for Palestine. I found some gelato and made my way back to my room where I spent some time hanging out with my hostel mates. There’s a man from Cologne, Germany named John Luc and he is one of my favorite people I’ve met on my travels so far. He’s very well traveled. We quickly found ourselves in deep conversations about life and I love connecting with people like that. 

The next day I took a bus to Sagrada Familia. I couldn’t go inside because tickets book out weeks in advance, but it was incredible from the outside. Mesmerizing. It was designed and construction began in 1882 by Antoni Gaudi. It’s still not finished but planned to be finished in 2026. Gaudi was actually buried here! 

I then found a cafe to enjoy some coffee and continued on. I walked through parks and different neighborhoods like La Ribera. I found a rooftop bar to watch the sunset, ordered a sangria and read my book while enjoying the views. The views were breathtaking. I mean seriously incredible. 

I woke up the next morning and really needed a chill day. I was pushing my limits exploring all day every day with my scooter and I was tired. I woke up and went to the gym to workout for an hour and a half then I came back to my hostel and fell back asleep. My body was telling me to rest and I could tell. I spent the day relaxing, reading, and packed up to leave in the morning. I also hung out with my hostel mates for awhile. 

I woke up the next morning to leave and my hostel mates and I went downstairs to have breakfast. They were a group of 5 and all from India, but living in Bordeaux, France as they are studying there. I told them how I broke my ankle in Bordeaux and how I just came from there. I told them Bordeaux will always have a very special place in my heart from my experience there. They kept telling me how incredible they thought my story was. They asked to take a picture together and one of me with my broken leg. One of them told me he couldn’t wait to call his mom and share my story with her. We shared our goodbyes which made me sad again. But how lucky was I to meet so many incredible people from around the world?

I took a taxi to the train station, made it on my train with the help of over travelers, It was a 6 hour train ride which I wasn’t looking forward to. The train was late and they stopped us halfway through our journey to switch trains. The man who helped me on the train came back for me to help me off and onto the next one. I was so grateful for him. I asked him if they had water on these trains and he said no. He then gave me his bottle of water even after I told him I would be okay and he should keep it for himself. He insisted. My heart swells with gratitude at all times. I asked him his name and he told me it was Chomen. I will never forget Chomen or his kindness and the way he cared for me. He got off before me but I had two other men who stepped in and offered to help me off the train when we arrived in Valencia. We got there pretty late. I checked into my hostel, fell asleep, woke up to grab some food, and then fell right back asleep again. I was exhausted. I woke up refreshed this morning and brought my laptop to a coffee shop to write my blog. I’ve been sitting outside for about five hours now, drinking coffee and writing this blog so I really should head out to explore Valencia now. I really like the vibes here. It’s a lot less crowded, very local, and no one speaks English. But luckily for me my Spanish is very good and I have no issues getting around a Spanish speaking country.

I am so proud of myself. I feel like I’ve changed so much in the last three months, in all the best ways. But ever since I broke my ankle, I’ve had a major shift in the way I feel about myself. Meeting so many other travelers who I’ve inspired, who’ve shared their stories, and who wouldn’t have continued on their journey gives me a type of self love and appreciation I’ve never had before. I feel brave. I feel strong. When life tried to knock me down, I held my own and fought the fight. I almost died in the ER in Italy three months ago and now I was getting around the world with one leg. All on my own. I’m not bragging by any means, but I truly am so proud of myself. I have learned what I’m capable of and how strong and determined of a person I am. I think I have cured my codependency issues. I don’t need anyone else. I’m continuing to move forward despite everything. People aboard love me exactly for me and I can be whoever I want to be out here. She is someone that I really have grown to love. I’m also getting myself around in these countries by knowing how to speak three languages. It’s something I’ve worked really hard at since I was in middle school and it’s paid off during my travels throughout the years. You know, I’ve done a lot of self reflection about who I am and the things I’ve been through in my life. This has been very healing in a way I can’t explain. I am letting go and moving on.

Chat soon.

Xo,

Kals