Traveling with Alea is a strange and mystical adventure

As our journey is coming to a close, I'd just like to describe what it's like to do a solo trip with Alea.

For starters, she has a tendency to become overwhelmingly attached to inanimate objects. This emotional attachment has been expressed towards $2 flip flops, small pieces of paper, etc. The most baffling is her childlike obsession with a stuffed bee. She becomes genuinely frazzled if you do anything to "insult" or "injure" Hank the bee, who is currently stuffed into a dark corner of my backpack.

Alea is like a bloodhound when it comes to finding something. Give her a map and a location to find and you can bet your HankLongBee she'll find it, regardless of whether or not you're with her at the end of the voyage. One minute you'll be standing next to her in a metro station. You'll casually look at some graffiti on the wall and by the time you look back, Alea is gone. If you're lucky, she's at the top of some flight of stairs, diligently staring at her map. If you're not as lucky, you're forced to frantically look around at a sea of rushed Romanians pushing their way through the subway until you see Alea in a corner. Usually in this scenario, she has already spotted you; however, instead of calling your name like a normal human being, she is staring at you sadly, as if you're doing this to her on purpose to annoy her. And on that note of the Alea sad face, there have been many moments where simple problem-solving could have sorted out a situation, but rather than take that step, she freezes and sits with a sad pout until you can convince her that it's not the end of the world.

Alea also likes to play mime in foreign countries. When buying something, ordering food, or on the rare occasions where asking for directions was a necessity, instead of using words, Alea points at things and makes strange gutteral sounds until the individual at the other end of this exchange ultimately replies in English. Then she smiles and starts formulating baby sentences while still pointing. You'd like to think that the limiting of words is something she does because she is shy and nervous being in an unfamiliar place where she doesn't speak the language. However, she addresses me in a similar manner: she'll bark out orders in strange Alea-speak and walk out of the room, not caring whether you've heard what she's suggested you do. Much like a drill sergeant with a speech impediment she is unaware of.

Now, mind you, Alea is not dumb, and I'm not in any way trying to imply that she is. In fact, our favorite little Juris Doctor is one of the smartest people I know. Aside from being incredibly intelligent, she is really good at taking a really stupid idea and, through some J.D. lawyer voodoo, convincing you it's the greatest idea in the world (i.e. Let's take this bag and fill it with stuff to make it bigger, then shove it in the other bag so it will take up less space). Additionally, she has an impeccable sense of smell, which comes in handy on trains when she gets excited that all she can smell is Nutella. I'm working on a theory though that when her crazy sense of smell kicks in, the rest of her ceases to function and you have to then walk her through logical steps of life ("Mmmm, all I can smell is Nutella." "Alea, isn't there Nutella in our bag?" "Yup. I hope it hasn't opened." "...Maybe you should check?" "OMG LOLZ IT SPILLED!! ROFL").