The Frenchman Who Spoke Too Much
I’m in my room, about to head to the bar for free pizza, when I hear Pedro, a hostel worker, shouting down the stairs: “I don’t speak French!” Amused, I decide to investigate.
Downstairs, an older French man is speaking nonstop while Pedro keeps repeating that he doesn’t understand. Using my minimal French, I step in to help. The man, Pascal, refuses to pay the deposit, waving a twenty-euro bill and claiming it’s all he has. Duarte, Pedro’s cousin, steps in, and we explain that he needs to pay the deposit. Pascal rambles on about walking 30 kilometres, owning Portuguese shoes, and liking Belgium. He insists he doesn’t drink alcohol and mentions a past coma, but his story is hard to follow.
Eventually, Duarte gives in and lets him stay, accepting the bill. I’m still making small talk with Pascal when he mentions living in Portugal. “Mais tu parles portugais?” I ask. He laughs in my face: “Bien sûr!” Stunned, Duarte and me share a look, but when he tries speaking to Pascal in Portuguese, the man switches back to French, leaving us confused. Later, we find out he also speaks English, yet he keeps up the French act. By now, everyone in the bar is following the drama and laughing hysterically. Pascal joins us at the table, occasionally slipping into English but mostly sticking to French, leaving us guessing all night.
A change of plans?
On Wednesday, Alexa takes me to a cafe a little higher in the city. We make the decision to walk there with the occasional break to catch our breath. Despite the cloudy weather, we’re both sweating and puffing. Too concentrated on the steps, we don’t talk a lot on our way. Instead, I look around me, taking in the view. The sky is divided in two parts: above us, the sky is a solid blanket of grey, but in the distance, there’s a sharp divide where the clouds disappear and the sun shines over the city.
The café is well hidden. Inside, we descend a set of stairs and choose a table outside. Still recovering from the climb, we order cold drinks.
Alexa spent her Erasmus in Antwerp, so it’s fun to test her knowledge of Belgium and discuss the good and the bad. We talk about the holidays, and I remember a friend asking if I’m coming home for New Year’s Eve. At first, I thought I wouldn’t, but I start weighing my options. By then, most of my friends here – the other volunteers – will have left, and there’s no guarantee of new arrivals to celebrate with. Alexa mentions that she’s also thinking of going to Belgium to meet up with her Erasmus friends. I’m not too worried about celebrating alone, but the thought of missing the annual party with my friends feels bittersweet. The next day, I call my sister to discuss my plan. A little later, I book my ticket to Charleroi.
Welcoming Ayana and celebrating Duarte
In the evening, a new volunteer joins our team. Her name is Ayana, and Daisy and I wait for her in the staircase, where she’s puffing with every step. Understandably so – the street we live on is steep, and then there are three flights of stairs to the reception.
She’s full of enthusiasm, and I immediately feel good about our new friend. She asks lots of questions about us, the city, and the work. As we talk, she listens intently. Then it’s my turn – I’m naturally curious – and I dig into her life story. She’s just flown in from Ireland, where her boyfriend lives, and she’s a recently graduated tattoo artist. I notice she doesn’t have any tattoos herself, and she explains that she comes from a very religious family.
A couple of hours before midnight the bar is filled with friends of Duarte. He’s working tonight, but tomorrow is his birthday, so we’re celebrating in the bar. Chime twelve, everyone starts singing Happy Birthday and he gets a small cake with a candle that he blows out.
Laundry Lessons and Party Plans
After two weeks, on Thursday, I finally manage to get a hold on Daniel again. As a student, he’s always busy, and we haven’t seen each other since our first reunion when I first arrived. We agree to meet at 17:00.
Before that, there’s a meeting with the volunteers. João, the coordinator, gathers the four of us to discuss some issues. The cleaning staff have complained about us not doing the laundry properly. We already heard about this in the group chat, along with a few nasty looks from the cleaners during our occasional encounters.
While the volunteers get along well with each other and with the paid staff, our relationship with the cleaners is strained. They don’t speak English, so communication relies on hand gestures or Google Translate, but most of the time, it’s ignored. They seem to expect us to understand everything without explanation and get frustrated when we don’t meet their standards.
That said, I’m generalising. There are about six cleaners, and not all of them hold a grudge. One young woman always smiles at each of us. She has the kind of smile that makes you relax your muscles and clear your mind for a second.
We plan a training session with one of the cleaners to show us exactly what to do, and we decide to organise our first proper hostel party, which feels exciting. I offer to design the poster after seeing the plain and boring one from before. My graphic design skills aren’t great, but I’ll figure it out.
A Danish Reminisce
After the meeting, I take the metro to Saldanha, where Daniel suggested we meet. When I see him, I give him a hug and ask how he’s been. We walk to a kiosk – one of the outdoor bars dotted across the city – and pick up where we left off. He asks about my experience in Lisbon and if I miss anything. Without missing a beat, I say, “I don’t see you enough.” He apologises, but I laugh it off and tell him not to worry.
We reminisce about Denmark and our time in Aarhus. We were the youngest and least experienced in our class, but we made it work. Now, while our beloved Aarhus is freezing, we’re sitting outside in just sweaters, enjoying the mild weather. I don’t miss the cold, but I think about the people every day.
Eventually, we stroll to Normal, a Danish retail chain going international. Daniel needs a few things, and I realise I need shampoo. There’s something so comforting about this moment – walking through these aisles that look exactly like the ones in Denmark, chatting with Daniel, who also looks exactly like he did in Denmark (minus the winter gloves and scarf). It’s a simple moment, but it brings me so much happiness.
This was an eventful week. I kept the partying to a minimum, and prioritized being around friends. Although I wasn’t planning on going home after barely two months of traveling, I am excited to celebrate the Holidays with my family and friends from home.
Thank you for following along! Every time I get a notification of a like or comment, I get butterflies in my stomach. 🙂
-Cels
CelsAway 
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