I paused in the doorway. There were about ten other backpackers milling around the small common room. I recognised the two young men we’d seen earlier in the media room; they looked like they’d recovered from their hangovers. Pedro and another young woman, who I assumed also worked for the hostel, were mingling through the crowd, handing out drinks and trying to get strangers to talk to each other.
Pedro beckoned me in, smiling warmly.
“Beatrix! How was your day?”
“Good thanks. We went up to the castle,” I said. He smiled and nodded.
“It is beautiful up there, isn’t it? I have lived in Lisbon my whole life, and I still enjoy losing myself, wandering around the castello. Sintra is also beautiful, do you plan to visit there?”
“Yeah, I think Mara mentioned something about that. Maybe tomorrow or the day after.”
“Try to go during the week, if you can. It can get very busy on the weekends. It is a bit harder to imagine life as it was back then, when you are surrounded by loud American tourists and Japanese tour groups taking thousands of photographs!”
I laughed. Gemma probably took more photos than any Japanese tourist I’d ever met, and Mara wasn’t exactly quiet.
“Have you seen Gemma? She came down before me.” I looked around the room again, frowning. Gemma had gotten bored waiting for me and Mara to get ready and said she was going down to the common room. I’d come down after looking at the state of Mara’s wet hair. She’d be a while.
“Yes,” Pedro looked around and then shrugged. “She was here only a few minutes ago, I gave her a drink and introduced her to some handsome young men.” I raised my eyebrows and tried not to laugh. “Don’t worry, they seemed trustworthy enough. Perhaps they are in the media room, around the corner, but first, do you want a drink?” He waved towards his desk. There was a bowl of punch, some beers, and a couple of bottles of red wine.
“It’s included in the pub crawl. You get one drink here, or maybe two if I’m happy!” He winked. I grinned and pulled out my wallet.
“Five euro, wasn’t it?”
“No, no. Gemma already paid for all of you. What would you like?”
“Oh! Okay then.” I studied the drinks. “Wine, please.” Who knew what was in the punch?
Pedro picked up an already opened bottle and sniffed it.
“Not the finest example of Portuguese wine, I’ll admit, but it’s not so bad.” He poured me out a generous glass and handed it to me. I took a sip.
“What do you think?” I didn’t have much experience with Portuguese wines, but this wasn’t too bad. Not delicious, but drinkable. It didn’t make me want to spit it out, at any rate.
“Not bad,” I said. “Not great, but not bad.”
Pedro laughed. “Honesty. I like that.”
“Why? Do people often lie about the quality of your wine?”
“You’d be surprised, Beatrix. Where is Mara by the way? She is coming, yes?” I wondered how long he’d been waiting to ask me that.
“Yeah, she’s just getting ready. She’ll be down soon. Don’t worry,” I laughed. I caught sight of Gemma then, coming around the corner, talking to two young men. Two very cute young men. I thanked Pedro for the drink, and walked over towards them, allowing Pedro to play host to another lonely backpacker.
“Hey! There you are, Bea.” Gemma linked her arm with mine. “This is Leo and Greg. Leo’s from Belgium and Greg’s a Kiwi.”
“Hi, nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out to the taller of the two men first. He had dark messy hair, and black glasses that failed to hide bright blue eyes. He nodded and took my hand in a firm grasp.
“I’m Leo. Nice to meet you, Bea.” I loved his accent. It was so very European. I smiled at him, then turned my attention to Greg. He was shorter and stockier, with a mop of curly blond hair and a scruffy almost ginger beard.
“Greg,” he said and shook my hand with a nod and smile.
“We were just talking about rugby,” Gemma informed me.
“Oh joy. Rugby.” I mock-yawned. I was from Melbourne. It was almost mandatory that we dislike rugby. Greg was a New Zealander, so the opposite was true for him.
“Ah, you’re one of those Gay F.L. lovers aren’t ya?”
“Gay F.L?! A.F.L players are hot! And tough! And they have necks, unlike rugby players,” I said, trying to sound indignant. In truth, I didn’t really follow any sport, but arguing with Kiwi’s or Queenslander’s was always fun.
“They tap each other on the arse,” Greg said.
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Rugby players put their heads up each others arses, if you’re gonna go there.”
“Ouch,” he said and raised his hands. “I’m just joshin’ with ya. I actually don’t mind your weird footy.”
“Have you ever seen Aussie Rules football?” Gemma asked Leo.
He shook his head. “I thought you all played rugby as well.” His voice was nice and deep, and with that accent I felt like I could listen to him all day. I mentally shook myself. Get a grip, Bea.
“It looks like they took soccer - your football, basketball and rubgy and smashed them all together,” Greg said helpfully.
“Interesting… I think I’ll have to see it.”
“It’s fast. And fun,” Gemma said. She actually followed it, unlike me.
“And the men all wear tiny shorts and tight sleeveless jumpers. It’s nice to look at,” I laughed.
“There’s that too,” Gemma conceded.
“Really?” Leo asked.
“Yep,” Gemma and I said at the same time.
“Where’s Mara?” Gemma asked, turning to me.
I shrugged. “Still getting ready. You know what she’s like.” Mara liked to look like she didn’t put any effort into getting her perfect looks, but anyone who’d travelled or lived with her knew her dirty secret.
“Pedro was looking for her before. Wanted to know if she was still coming tonight,” Gemma said.
I laughed. “Yeah, he asked me that too.”
“Who is Mara?” Leo asked, looking between us, a curious frown on his face.
“Our friend. She should be down soon,” I said. “So how long have you been in Lisbon?” I asked both Leo and Greg.
“I’ve been here for a couple of days,” Greg said. “I’m travelling with an Aussie mate, actually. Mick. He’s not feeling well though, so he’s having a kip. He might come out later if he’s feeling better.”
“Ah, that’s no good,” I murmured. “How about you, Leo?”
“I only arrived this morning,” he said. “How about you two ladies?”
“Yeah same, just this morning,” I said.
“We came from London,” Gemma added. “We needed a break from the dreary cold weather.”
“Understandable! I was in London a few weeks ago. It barely stopped raining,” Leo said.
“Hey, I was in London a few weeks ago too! Maybe we were all there at the same time, how weird is that?” Greg said. Not that weird, I thought. London is a pretty big, major city. I didn’t say anything though, only smiled.
“Are you travelling, or just on holiday?” I asked Leo.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean. English is my third language…” Leo said apologetically.
“Oh sorry, I guess that didn’t make much sense. I mean… Are you just here for a small holiday, or are you travelling all around Europe?”
“Ah, I see. No, I’m not travelling. I live in Belgium. I have a few days off and I’ve never been to Lisbon before, so I thought I might come.”
“Nice,” I said. “How about you, Greg?”
“I’m two months in. Started in Germany. Just working my way around, going where I feel like it… It’s been pretty awesome so far.”
“Yeah, I bet! How long are you gonna be travelling for?” Gemma asked.
“Until the money runs out.” He laughed at himself and took a swig out of his beer. I glanced down at my glass and told myself to be careful. I tended to drink too quickly
without noticing when I was talking.
“So are you travelling with your friend for the whole time?” I asked.
“Nah. I only met him a week ago, actually. We were in the same hostel in Madrid and realised we were both going to Porto on the same day, so we decided to travel together for a wee while. We’ll probably stay together ’til we get to France. He’s got an uncle or cousin or something there that he wants to stay with for a while. I’m pretty keen to keep moving.”
“Cool.” I didn’t really know what else to say. I was kind of jealous. Actually, really jealous. I couldn’t afford to just travel around for months on end, as much as I wanted to. The freedom to go where ever you wanted and a new destination every few days was pretty damn appealing at that moment. I half listened as Gemma kept asking Greg questions about his trip. The other half of me day-dreamed about my own trip. London was fun, but maybe I should look into the logistics of just packing up and travelling for a few months and not worrying. Maybe I could afford it, as long as I was careful. Maybe…
Mine and Tom’s original plan had been to stay and work in London for a year, and then go back-packing around Europe for another five or six months, and then go home via a month or two in South-East Asia. Together. That had been our plan for the last two years. We’d talked about it over and over again, shown each other pictures of the places we wanted to see, the things we wanted to do. I’d read my Western Europe guide book from cover to cover, multiple times. It was strangely liberating and yet terrifying to think about doing ‘our’ dream trip by myself. Although it wouldn’t be my actual dream trip. There would be no romantic kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower, no one to hold my hand as we walked through the Roman ruins, no one sitting across from me on a Venetian gondola.
I sighed and returned my attention to the conversation in front of me. Leo was watching me, so I tried to appear like I hadn’t just spaced out on the conversation.
“And how long are you here for, Bea?” Leo asked.
“We’re here for five days,” I said. “And you?”
“Four days.”
“Then what? Back to work?” Greg asked.
Leo sighed. “Yes. No relaxing backpacking for me, unfortunately.”
“Me either,” I said.
“What do you do?” Leo asked me.
“I work in a bookshop.” I shrugged. “It’s all right.” I don't know why I downplayed it. I actually quite liked working in Rosemarie's second hand bookshop. It was relaxing and usually stress free and I got along very well with the old Scottish lady. She was the best boss I'd ever had, through the string of casual and part-time jobs I'd held throughout uni.
“How long have you been in London for?” Leo asked.
“Three months, but I don’t know how long I’ll stay… I have a two year visa, so we’ll see,” I said. “How about you? What do you do?” I belatedly asked. I needed practise at this whole small talk thing again.
“I’m a developer for a software company.”
“Oh, cool.”
He didn’t look like what I expected a software developer to look like. Not nearly as dorky as the picture my brain supplied me of my brother’s friends.
“Yes, I enjoy it.” He shrugged, almost defensive. “It’s challenging. And I get to travel a bit with my job. We have an office in London, and another in Milan, and one in Madrid, so it can be, varied, I guess you would say in English.”
“Your English is really great, for your third language! I mean, especially for your third language!” I’d actually kind of forgotten that English wasn’t his native language, he spoke it so fluently. “What’s your first language? Dutch or French?” I asked, hoping that I wasn’t putting my foot in it too much.
“Dutch. I’m from Ghent, in Flanders. We speak Dutch there, but we learn French at school, and from high school we learned English as well. What’s your second language?”
“Japanese, although I’m pretty crap to be honest. I tried to follow a Japanese tour group around the National Gallery a few weeks ago, but I could only understand about every tenth word.”
“Ha,” he laughed. “Strange.”
I stared at him. Strange?
“What do you mean, strange?” I demanded. My Japanese was a hell of a lot better than most of my friends. The only people I knew who could speak second languages fluently were people who had immigrant parents or grandparents, like Gemma. Or Tom. But he’d lived in China for a few years when he was a kid with his parents, and now he was a Maths and Mandarin teacher.
Maths and Mandarin. He did so like to alliterate.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that most Europeans can speak two languages. It’s kind of expected these days. I forgot that Australians don’t do that.”
“Well... to be fair... we try. We just don’t usually have a great reason to get fluent when everyone ends up speaking English anyway.”
“American or British English. Sometimes you Australians are a bit hard to understand.”
“Can you understand me?” I laughed.
“Yes. Mostly. As long as you don’t speak too fast.”
“My dad always told me I speak too fast. And mumble too much. Just tell me if I’m doing that and I’ll try to slow down. You might have to later. I tend to get pretty talkative when I’m tipsy, and we’re going on a pub crawl after all.”
“Okay, it’s a deal. And you tell me if I start speaking another language. I sometimes switch when I’m drunk.”
I laughed. “So how many languages do you speak?” I asked, curious.
“Three fluently. I also speak some Spanish, German and Italian, and also I’m trying to learn Swedish at the moment.” He said it like it was no big deal.
I could feel my eyes bulging.
“Woah. That’s crazy. I mean, amazing. Wow. I’m jealous.”
“You could do it.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I struggled enough with Japanese. One time I had to give a speech to some Japanese exchange students. I accidentally told them I liked to eat children…”
Leo coughed and spluttered on the sip of beer he’d just taken.
“You like to eat children?!”
“Well, I meant to say fruit. I like to eat fruit. Kodamo ga tabetai desu. Instead I said Kudamono ga tabetai desu... kudamono, kodomo... an easy mistake to make.”
“If you say so.” He was still laughing.
“What about you? Any language mix ups? You must have some with so many floating around your head.”
Leo paused and cocked his head, thinking.
“Well... I did once tell my German friend that she smelled like a nice monkey.”
“Hah! See not just me at all, well that was nearly as bad. No, that was worse.”
I jumped as a finger poke my side and swivelled around. I wasn’t used to being touched anymore.
That was possibly one of the things I missed the most about Tom and being in a relationship. Physical contact. I’d started taking it for granted that I could get a hug or snuggle on the couch whenever I wanted. Living together in London was the first time we’d lived together. I’d been looking forward to it for so long. I’d lived with Mara and my cousin Lucy for most of uni - first year had been at res on campus, where I’d actually met Tom. He’d lived with three other guys in a big share-house that was always full of beer and a rotating door of women out of Simon’s bedroom, but we’d spent a lot of time at each other’s houses.
“Mara. Finally,” I said.
Gemma and Greg were engrossed in a conversation about New Zealand slang and hadn’t even noticed Mara join us. I laughed on the inside. Gemma was flirting. I hadn’t seen Gemma flirt for quite a while.
“Mara, this is Leo from Belgium and Greg from New Zealand,” I said. “Greg, Leo, this is our friend Mara.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hi!”
“Mara, I’m glad you could make it, would you like a drink?” Pedro had appeared, diverted from the charms of a group of American girls and dr
awn to Mara’s side.
Mara nodded. He led Mara over to the table with the drinks and I watched with amusement as he poured her a drink and then overflowed her cup while he was too busy staring at her face and listening to her talk. I wondered what he’d been like last time Mara and Annie had been here. I’d have to remember to ask Annie when we got back.
“D’you think we’ll get going soon?” Greg asked, drawing my attention back to the circle of people around me. “I’m pretty keen to see Lisbon’s night life. I heard that you can walk around with alcohol, as long as it’s in a plastic cup. How cool is that?”
Leo shrugged. “It’s okay. As long as no one gets too drunk. You Aussies and Brits don’t know how to handle your alcohol.”
Greg mock-glared at him. At least, I hoped it wasn’t real.
“Hey! I’m not an Aussie!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Ah it’s okay, no biggie.”
“I find it a bit hard to tell your accents apart, to be honest.”
Gemma, Greg and I all looked at each other, amused and aghast.
“Seriously?” I said.
Leo nodded.
“Greg, say ‘fish and chips’,” Gemma said, grinning.
Greg laughed, then obliged her, sound to my ears as if he was saying ‘foosh and chups’.
“Could you tell the difference there?”
Leo shrugged. “I suppose. Maybe a little bit.”
“Say six,” I told Greg.
Greg repeated after her, but to the rest of us it sounded like he said ‘sex’ instead of ‘six’.
Leo laughed.
“Now say sex at six o’clock,” Gemma said.
By now we’d gained the attention of two other girls. They laughed at Greg. He scowled for a moment.
“It’s the rest of you who sound weird, not me.”
“There, there,” one of the girls said. “I’m Melanie, by the way, and this is my best friend Holly.” She sounded American. They both smiled at us and stuck out their hands. I found myself smiling reflexively and shaking both their hands. Melanie’s smile was contagious.
“Where are you two from?” Greg asked.
“We’re from Colorado,” Melanie said and brushed her blonde hair out of her face. Holly was a tall black girl who seemed content enough to let her friend do all the talking.
Unexpected: A Backpacker Romance (The Backpacker Romances) Page 3