First of all, me and my two lady friends ventured off to Dublin, Ireland and Barcelona, Spain for 12 days of.. I'd like to say rest and relaxation, but more like a lot of walking and drinking beer. I basically needed a week of R&R to recover from this trip! And may I just say that I'm really shattered that I picked Holland instead of Ireland to move to, considering Dublin was my #1 choice. Blah. We couchsurfed, and stayed with a bunch of Brazilian boys and one Irishman, who were incredibly friendly and fun to be around. We have plans to go back there in the next month or two to visit them, so hopefully that happens :)
Barcelona was nice as well, but incredibly hot and humid. I miss the 1 euro smoothies in the market off Las Ramblas the most. As well as the Mediterranean. I went on my first pub crawl there, and it was so much fun. Met some Americans, some Canadians, good times. On the last night of our trip, we went for a couple beers at Travel Bar Port, which we had discovered on our pub crawl. Met two Canadian boys from the Ottawa area who joined us for the night, as well as a Dutch girl who was new in town, and an English fellow. After the pub kicked us out, we wandered down to the sea and being incredibly intoxicated, decided it was a good night for a swim. So I stripped down and sprinted into the water. The Englishman joined me, while the others hung out on the beach. I hadn't been in the water for very long when I felt a burning, stinging sensation on my left inner thigh. Jellyfish. Fucking sweet! The Englishman grabs me and carries me out of the water while I'm screaming bloody murder, and he and Selby both proceeded to piss on me. Sweet! It helped for just a few seconds, so they tried balsamic vinegar from a nearby restaurant. Nope. Began the trek home and one of the Canadian boys bought me some cream from a pharmacy. How sweet. We all parted ways, except for the Englishman who walked us home. Selby headed into the apartment building first, accidentally locking us out. She comes back down several minutes later in tears, telling us that she had just gotten a message from home stating that a friend of hers had passed away in a car accident. It wasn't a good scene. And then.. oh yes, there is more.. then we get stuck in the elevator that's built for one or two people, with four of us in it. You know what they say about bad things coming in three's...
It was good to get back to Holland, but now I want to get out more than ever. I called home a few days after my return, and discovered from my father that he had been to the doctor and they'd discovered skin cancer on his forehead. Break my heart. He then tried to make a joke and say that the positioning of it made it look like he was growing a horn and turning into a unicorn. I had to laugh. Good news though - they got rid of it all, thank God.
On Sunday, August 16, 2009 Selby and I cycled to the station out of pure boredom. We had been lying in bed all day and really needed to get out. We grabbed a couple of smoothies and sat ourselves down on the benches out front. Suddenly, there's a lot of commotion and screaming. These two men were fighting, while a little girl and several others looked on in horror. He pulled out a knife, and stabbed the other man. Some bystanders jumped on them, and held the guy until the police arrived, 15 minutes later. The injured man lay on the ground, bleeding to death. It punctured his heart and lungs, and he didn't make it. Turns out that the pregnant woman, the mother to the little girl, was stabbed as well, by her ex husband who was stalking her, because he wanted to see his daughter, the little girl. And he murdered her boyfriend, the father to the unborn child. I honestly could not believe my eyes. I have never seen something so evil, so cruel, in all my life. I was in hysterics, shaking, crying, on the verge of vomiting. I wanted to go up there and kick that man in his face while those other men held him down on the ground.
For the first few days, it was like a tape on repeat in my mind. Constantly playing itself over and over and over again. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, and the last thing I thought of when I went to bed. Just knowing that I witnessed the last moments of that man's life, watching the scene that took him away from his family, his life. I feel extremely guilty for having not done anything, scream, try to break it up, something, anything. I feel sick thinking about it. Life is so unfair.
We do have a therapy session tomorrow at the police station to talk about it and hopefully get some help, some closure.
No comments:
Post a Comment