Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • This is the first souvenir from my first solo trip. I was 14 and I spent one month in Oxford "learning English". The lessons didn't have a very high level, I did only that time what every single Spaniard does when he or she goes abroad (hanging out only with other Spanish people) and the father of my host family was lacking several teeth, what gave him a weird and ununderstandable accent. I learnt, in that trip, that wandering around alone wasn't going to be easy. Once my friend got her wallet stolen in a McDonald's and I thought I had identified the rascals, so I left behind them and started chasing them with two 50p ice cream cones in my hands (one of course wasn't for me, although I was a bit chubbier back then). In the end they turned back.

    - Why are you chasing us?!

    - You stole my friend's wallet!

    - Fuck off and stop chasing us!

    So I left. With the ice cream melting down my hands and no wallet. Also in that trip, I realised my host mother was a prostitute and they didn't really feed me, like I was the smelly cat (they did indeed have a smelly cat who used to sleep next to my bowl of cereal), so I had to change family. I ended in a cozy nuthouse with three more students, the mother, the father, the two children, a parrot, a giant dog and a hamster rolling all day inside his ball.

    And I saw London, and I fell in love. Britain is such an unlovable country, with its shit beaches and its rainy days and its pubs which smell like wee and sweat, but I always fell for the wrong ones. But see, it's been telling me to smile for the past thirteen years. I miss the UK.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.