What, what, what is my life?

For the past few days, the question, "What is my life?" has been on a constant mental loop in my head. What is my life that I'm on a plane to Lisbon?...What is my life that i'm wearing a northface and sweating outside when I see pictures of Chicago swallowed under snow?...What is my life that I aimlessly wandered towards a castle, befriended Australians who were taking in the scenery, eventually found it with their guidance AND THEN managed to wander back to my hostel solo?...What is my life that a street vendor gave me a free bracelet because I told him I was from the United States and voted for Obama?

Overall, you can say my trip is off to a great start, despite a troubled beginning. The initial shock of being in a country that does not speak English, being without sleep for about 36 hours and, of course, having the airport lose my bag between London and Lisbon got the best of me for a moment--almost so far as considering booking a ticket back to the States or at least to London. However, I couldn't be happier that those who happened to be online when I was freaking out convinced me to tough it out. Two guys I met in the dorm also put me at ease by explaIning that everyone has that initial shock the first time they travel alone--thanks again Nick and Dave.

Lisbon was a good starting point for this adventure. It has a very chill atmosphere, and I'm in love with the hostel lifestyle. Meeting new people everday that are on similar trips and are looking for the same type of experience is incredible. Also, Australians are crazy, but in a good way.

The first day, I went on a tour with this guy named Bruno, and yesterday I met up with a guy I met through couchsurfers named Marco--both are natives to Lisbon. They both emphasized that the people who live here don't appreciate what they have--the weather, the beaches, the sites and the history--like those who come and visit. That, in their opinion, everyone complains and does nothing to change their situation. The decaying buildings are a good example of this. There is this feeling that everyone who grew up here want to leave, but everyone who comes to visit don't want to leave. Super weird, right? Also, the graffiti here is out of control.

Well that's my two cents on Lisbon. I'm sad to leave, but now I'm on to Madrid!