of 182 blinks and a baptism

My alarm goes off at 2 am. What self-hating part of myself decided that this was a good idea?
Note to my future-self: whenever I book a flight leaving Barcelona, don't book it before 7 am. Otherwise it's a pain in the ass to get there on time.

Michael, my backpacker-self, suggested to just spend the night at the airport. Like in the old times.
I'm sorry but no. Not when I live in the same city.

Anyhow, because I know that when I get up really, really early I need to grand myself some time until I function completely. So I decided to give myself about an hour before I actually have to leave. I thought I give myself enough time to take a shower, pack the rest of stuff that I need and have breakfast.
Well, none of this became reality. I don't take a shower out of respect of my room mates to make too much noise. I don't really need to pack as I have everything back home, so I just take my little beach bag with Marie's t-shirt, my charger, my book and my pali scarf to have something to cover my eyes in the plane. And I don't have breakfast as I just had dinner 4 hours prior to now. So all I had was a glass of juice.
Because I won't be here for the next four days I didn't buy anything either. Another note to myself: buy some snacks for the airport.
You know, I've been flying so many times in the last 12 months and yet I forget half of the stuff every time.
Never mind.

You know what's the worst when you stand at the bus stop at 3 am on a Friday? You're surrounded by all the drunk fucks going home. Especially in a tourist city like Barcelona.
You know what's good, however, when you only slept for about 3 hours and are heavily suffer from sleep deprivation? You're pretty much on the same level as they are. So it can actually be quite funny.

Anyhow, Spanish public transportation is not really reliant. So when you have to be there on time you're too late. Unless you've planned really well. Gave yourself some extra time in case something happens. You travel at night with no traffic. Then you're an hour too early. Don't quote me on that though.
With too much time on my hands I'm standing there. At Barcelona-El Prat. For an airport that big it's super shit. Its organisation fails pretty much every time. Luckily, the last few times I left from here I only had a very small backpack with me and didn't have to go to the check-in desk.
And yet, Michael was right, I layed myself down to a little bit of sleep. Didn't held long though as I'm attacked by mosquitoes shortly after. And I had found such a lovely place to rest.

Anyhow, it's 5 am now - more or less - another half hour until boarding starts. More important the effect of my glass of orange juice lacks off and the hunger games start. Try finding something edible apart from snacks at 5 am at any airport. Good luck.
Last hope for me was Burger King. A bit far back from my gate but I had time and as it's fast food it won't take that long ... I thought.
Always expect the unexpectable. In front of me three of the douchiest douche bags you could think of. Of course they were Germans. But that kind of asshole who wears his sweatshirt around his shoulders. White woolen pants. Slippers. Polo short. That kind of guy that starts trouble for no reason and then his father sues you because you broke his nose.
Drunk. as. fuck. The waiter doesn't want to serve them. Good boy. Unfortunate for me I am right behind them so he also doesn't serve me.
So back to the duty free store - the only thing that's already opened at such inhumane times - and get me some gummy bears, chips (the worst I had in a long time) and an orange juice. Shit, it was 99 dollars.
Why are airports so god-damn expensive? Makes flying no longer fun.

I'm sitting on the plane. I started reading my new book. Oh, boy. Getting that book is another story. Little hint: don't get anything delivered with Correos Express in Spain. You will wait.
Gone Girl. I saw the movie and it was awesome. Now I'm reading the book - and of course - it's way better.

12 pm. Or is it 12 am. I always forget which one is which. Let's just say midday.
I arrive back home and I'm overwhelmed by this warm feeling.
I've been coming back home a couple of times in the last few months but this time it feels different. This time,it's only for a short time. Funny how things change.
Getting picked up by my mum who snaps a picture of me just to post it as a story later because now she discovers the internet. A firm hug and a interesting talk on the drive home to catch up about the news.
Arriving at our house I'm heaps excited to see Miley again and she's excited to see me again, I thought, but she's not instead she walks past me as I am air. Bitch.

I don't have that much time though. First I gotta eat German bread with German sausage. Then I need to take a nap and then I'm meeting Fiona at the train station to go to Munich. What a day.

I enjoy the train ride with Fiona. Because the Deutsche Bahn is always a good option when you travel within Germany.
Apart from that I love catching up with this little punker girl. I love her a lot, but she doesn't like Babymetal. I'm sacrificing myself here.
So we arrive at Munich train station. Everything is fine. Fiona is in charge of how we get to the concert and the time table and everything. She tells me we have a bit time to get something to eat. What should I get? I just had bread and sausage I'm not really hungry.
On the other hand at the concert food will be expensive and afterwards pretty much everything will be closed so we won't be able to get something.
I consider to get a döner but I remember the one on the ground level of the train station sucks. Then it hits me. I'm in Germany only for a short time so I need to get what I can't when I'm in Spain: Chinese food.
Actually it's Thai but it's pretty much the same.
Fiona walks right up to me asking me "Ey, whatcha doin fam?" (Not her actual words). "We only have like 5 min to get to the metro."
Like whaaat? Didn't you just say we had time to get something to eat. Now I got to eat my rice with veggies in the metro like some kind of hobo. I always hated people who eat smelly food on public transportation. I still do. But now I'm one of them. Look what you've done to me!!!

So we arrive at the concert hall on time. Everything is fine. The line is gigantically long but as we're in Germany ticket control and security check is super efficient and a few minutes later we're inside.
Fiona and I are both more that guy who stands in the back and looks at the band from the distance, enjoying the music, rocking by ourselves. Just relaxed and having a good time.
That's great because I don't want to be right in the middle of everything where you almost die. I know I pay for it but I also want to get out of here alive.
First things first we get ourselves some bruskies and go for a ciggi.
Smoking area is at the other side of the stage so we walk all the way around try to have a cigarette with approx. 150 kph wind speed - that's no fun - and we go back inside. Take any of the stairs to the stage et voilà we're standing in the second row. A bit on the side but that's good. I got a perfect view on the band. Fiona not so much as she's about 3 ft tall.
I'm not sure for how long I had the wish to see this band in particular live. It's been a roller coaster of emotions with all the break-ups and reunions and re-break-ups and re-reunions. Oh boy.
It was great though. It was different. The new guy does not sound like Tom DeLonge at all but it was still a good night.

All good things come to an end and so does this concert. So we find ourselves at the train station at midnight again. If you ever tried to go somewhere far away at midnight you either have your own car or are fucked. And so are we.
Next train that takes us near home - not even home - leaves not until 2 am. But it never gets boring with Fiona and Tommy so we get us some more beers and have some more talks. Then we meet this guy with a tuba. Is it a tuba? I don't know. One sort of trumpet and he decides to entertain the whole train for a while.
A second concert - noice.
It was a hell of ride. I pull my hat for Fiona that she can stay awake through the whole thing to wake me up every time before we have to switch trains, buses and trains again. It's the second sunrise I see today. I'm physically not here nor anywhere right now.
Thanks again for the concert, Fiona.
The ride back home is long, exhausting but nice. Fiona is good in taking care of me.

It's the next morning and I'm wide awake. How I wish.
My mother is all up renovating my room and take over the big bed room so now I have to sort out all stuff she can throw away, I want to take with me to Spain or that needs to be stored.
On one hand I don't care about this as I haven't really lived back home in the past two years. On the other hand it made me realize that this is finally not where I live anymore.
I mean I packed my backpack in July in 2015 and until now it was my home. I don't want to get too sentimental here as there a millions of stories telling you that when you travel you have a lot of homes but no home. This is not entirely true. Not for me at least. Even though I'll always have a bed in the "Gold Beater's City" but it will be different now.

In the evening I go to my dad's for his famous BBQ. My brother and my now sister-in-law is also present. A couple of days ago my brother and I were talking about stuff and he said that I look quite similar to him.
It is true but also not. The people always either said we look exactly alike or we do not at all.
I was always a bit chubbier and smaller than him. But he goes bald faster than me haha. Anyhow, now that I lost weight, started to let my beard grow and also start to get thin hair we do look even more similar.
(Today, the day I'm writing this paragraph, I was at the barber's and we look even more alike. I urgently need to shave.)

I love the BBQs at my dad's as it's always first class food, heaps of fun and little family reunion. I'm already looking forward to the next one.

It's Sunday. The day why I came back to Germany this weekend. I'm going to be a god-father.
Yes, you heard right. Me. The guy who still doesn't know how taxes work. The guy who asked his roommate a couple of times how the washing machine works. The guy who eats cereals for dinner. But he made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

And boy does he look awesome in his little suit. Matching with his father. That cheeky fella can easily pick up any girl on the campus.
So we sit down in the church, the priest begins his speech. And everybody is singing and that stuff. Luckily I'm not the only one who has no idea what's going on here.
He's happy and he doesn't scream the whole time. Good boy. Actually none of all the present kiddies cries or screams. Good boys.
Then the priest asks me if I want to show my god-son how to live a religious live and be a good role model. Being a good role model for sure but a religious live?
"Yes, with the help of God" is what I say. After "Yes, I do" probably the most-told lie in a church.
I'm not religious, God knows, even though last weekend I was talking to that really hot Turkish girl about religion the whole night but that's another story for another time. Yes, this is what you do for your friends.
Holding this little guy in my hands, while he punches the holy water in the sink, is a actually a warming feeling. In a couple of years when you're older you'll come visit your uncle Tommy in Spain and we got drunk on Sangria but no worries - we're not gonna tell your Dad.
There is a saying that when you're friends with someone for over 7 years you become family. Now, Max and I have been best friends for 26 years now which is already a long time even more impressive taking the fact I'm only 27. We've been family for quite a while. I met this guy before I could even speak. He saw me wetting my pants. And I'm not talking about our time in the kindergarten. #tooprivate
Anyhow, now it's legit.
The rest of the day is spent in the garden. Huge feast. God it's so delicious. This time I am eating a lot as it's probably the last time I'm getting such great German food.

It's dark already. I'm tired as fuck. Everybody already left. Understandable as it is Sunday and everyone has to work tomorrow. Except for the loving parents who are on parental leave. Lucky bastards.
We started a fire and enjoy being there.
A couple of hours ago we put my godson to sleep. Apparently he likes it when you smack his ass. Then he falls asleep quicker. Well, I understand you buddy. Same here.
Usually every time I'm at Maxi's we play a round NHL on his playsi. The last matches have gotten quite intense - honestly because he doesn't play as often as anymore and now he's equally bad as me. Not today, though. We're both done for today. Go to bed. Sleep. But first we got to finish that beer. And then another one. And maybe after that.

It's Monday morning already and I'm packing my stuff to fly back home. It feels weird to call Barcelona home. Last time I was here was only temporary.
I still don't want to live here forever. It's too much huzzle for me. And the beach is ugly. But this is where I live now. And so it says on my Spanish registration card.

Before I leave Marie comes over. She had ordered a t-shirt of her favorite musician and they (a company from UK) don't ship to Germany but to Spain so she had it delivered to me and I brought it here. Free of charges.
She was the girl I was traveling Morocco with. One lovely afternoon we answered those 36 questions that make you fall in love with any strangers. (Note: they work.)
We figured even though we've known each other for a while now we don't know each other at all. And that is actually a really good way to know someone. I gotta do this more often.
So, now she visits me again and looks gorgeous as always. My mother doesn't like her but I do even more.

It's fun to hang out with her and talk about random stuff. She's that kind of girl that doesn't make it hard for no reason. Even though she said she does. I don't believe her.
She made me realize that even a bad moment in your life can have a happy outcome and that there's no need to worry about it. Only makes you suffer.

That's pretty much it. My quick visit to my home country.
I don't know how many people asked me if I had time for them to meet up with them and I'm really sorry but I just didn't have that much time. Maybe next time. Or maybe you move your lazy ass and come visit me in sunny Spain. I don't except any excuses.

Now I'm sitting at the airport waiting for my flight, reading my book that I luckily received in time.
My dad brought me here and we said good bye. This time it even worked.
The last time I flew to Barcelona from Nuremberg, back in 2014, I almost missed my flight. My dad still makes fun of me because of that till today. Luckily, a friend of mine was working at the check-in desk that day so he made an announcement that I was coming. Otherwise I would've missed my flight and couldn't start working my internship. Nothing special. Yet I came back as the guy I am today.
This time, because I've been flying a lot of time and now know how it works, I got there in time to say good bye.

I'll remember these words the next time I miss a flight.

Strongest woman I know!