Happy Birthday to me.
For as long as I can remember, my childhood birthdays weren’t big and fancy. Greetings were always welcome, but not the celebrations.
I grew up in a small, quiet family. We don’t normally throw parties, or sleep overs. We are too broke to eat in a nice restaurant. As I get older, I felt that there is no need for such. Besides, it is just another day but a year older. It is awkward when people sing happy birthday in front of you, what are we supposed to do? Should we sing with them? Clap our hands? Or just watch them while wearing that awkward smile?
When I started to earn my own money and finances weren’t scarce, I would travel somewhere new, all by myself. I loved walking around foreign places, speak to the locals, and try their food, be engaged in their culture, and learn about their way of life. I simple do not plan anything, no itinerary to follow, no time limits, no splurging on luxury experiences, I would just enjoy my day, alone.
On my 30th, I sat in front of the Pantheon while eating a tiramisu flavoured gelato. It was pure bliss.
There was a time where I spent my whole afternoon walking around Köln in Germany, then ended up in a bar, until midnight. I had so much fun watching everyone. And me? I had a drink after drink. I had to walk down towards my hotel…
