Category:

"Where are you from?" I ask as he brushes away the foam on his upper lip.

"Wales."

I'd guessed as much from his accent and the way he rolls his r's.

"Which part?"

"North Wales, near Wrexham. You?"

"North London."

"How long have you been in Lisbon?" The tip of his nose is sunburnt, which is oddly endearing.

"I've only just arrived."

"Same. Are you interrailing?"

"Yep."

"Where have you traveled from?"

"Coimbra, and before that, Porto," I tell him.

"You came across the north of Spain?"

"Yeah." I reach up to lift my hair from where it's clinging to my neck. It's after five, but the air is close and sticky.

"I came along the south," he replies, tracking the movement of my hand with his eyes. "I'm heading to Porto next."

"It's great-you'll love it. I'm off to the Algarve."

My parents are meeting me there, and a week later, I'll be flying home. The thought of this filled me with relief earlier, but now the reality is setting in and suddenly I feel flat.

"What's your favorite thing you've done so far?" Ash interrupts my thoughts.

"Um... Probably visiting my great-grandfather's war grave at Bayeux. It was surprisingly emotional."

"I'm pretty sure I've got a great-uncle who's buried there. Why was it surprisingly emotional?"

"I didn't think I'd be affected by it, I just thought I'd see a whole bunch of graves and feel, I don't know, 'good' that I'd gone. But actually, the enormity of so many people losing their lives and one of those people being an ancestor of mine... My granddad was only a year old when his dad died. He came so close to not even existing, and if he hadn't, well, where would I be?" I shrug self-consciously, but he's staring at me with a small, steady smile on his face, seeming genuinely interested in what I have to say. This conversation is already so different to every other casual chat I've had while traveling.

"I wasn't even planning on going there," I admit, our intense eye contact making me feel edgy. "But it's definitely one of my highlights."

"What are your other highlights?" he asks.

I like the way he's looking at me and it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the château I visited in the Loire Valley, with its stunning formal gardens and the nearby zoo built out of a quarry where you could hand-feed giraffes. Or the bike ride I took on the Île de Ré near La Rochelle, or the bar I sat at, drinking sangria, overlooking San Sebastián's sparkling La Concha Bay. But the truth is that I was lonely as hell doing those things on my own and I can't quite bring myself to lie to him about how awesome it was.

"We should just exchange Instagram details," I reply lightly. "All my highlights are on there."

"Great idea. I'd much rather stare at a screen than speak to a fellow human." I laugh at his gentle sarcasm and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, "Alas, I don't have a phone. Or Instagram."

I give him a baffled look. "You don't have a phone? Have you lost it?"

He shakes his head and takes another sip of his beer, a smile playing about his lips. "No, it was a conscious decision to come away without one."

My jaw drops. "You've been traveling around Europe without a phone?"

He nods. "It's nice being off-grid."

"What about maps? And music? And calling home?" I ask with astonishment.

"I have paper maps," he replies, leaning back in his chair so his tanned face is out of the shade of the canopy. "And I use hostel phones to call home. I do miss music, though."

His eyes are the same color as the peach iced tea I've been drinking: they catch the sunlight too, and sparkle with it.

"Do you fancy getting something to eat?" he asks out of the blue.