An American Abroad

“I’m starving, can we stop for a quick bite?” I blurted out, knowing the response I would get. “Again? How can you possibly need food every 20 minutes?” huffed my travel companion. We were wandering through some tiny stretch of a street, the kind built long before cars, trying to understand how Oslo worked.

“I wish we had gone somewhere with cafes” I mumbled, not caring that we absolutely did not go to those places because in the summer, my hefty companion would have melted in the heat.

Also, southern European towns always get packed with tourists, which given the size and demeanor of my friend, would have been mildly awkward at best, disastrous at worst. Grizzly bears do not typically travel in highly populated areas, preferring low density zones where they are less likely to get bothered by a nosy passerby.

“The problem with these old European cities is their poor urban planning” grumbled the bear, “otherwise, we wouldn’t be lost right now.” Not another speech about the benefits of a grid system.

“You’re such an American sometimes,” I responded, “it can be kind of embarrassing. The whole point of traveling to different places is to experience new things, not to gripe about how much better home is.”

Some friends don’t make great travel companions, I’ve come to learn.