The real adventure is the people you meet along the way
I’ve been solo travelling through Europe for a few months now. For a chunk of that time, I was jumping from city to city every three or four days, staying in hostel dorms with anywhere between four and eighteen beds in a room.
I’m not new to solo travel or hostel life, but this has been the longest stretch of this kind of travel I’ve done.
As with anything, there are ups and downs. Dante’s summation of hell was incomplete, the tenth and eleventh circles are shared hostel bathrooms and snorers (of which I may occasionally be one, but that’s not the point). The bunks are often uncomfortable and some will creak if you so much as think about twitching a toe. Shared rooms come with snorers – sometimes more than one and, let me tell you, earplugs combined with noise cancelling headphones is not enough to block out sleep apnea in stereo. People come and go at all hours, and it doesn’t matter how quiet and respectful they try to be, the rustling of bags will wake you. Hostel life can be tough.
But the highs are so very high
And revolve almost entirely around the people you meet.
How much I enjoyed each location has a strong correlation with the people I met while I was there. Lisbon was so much fun, thanks to the people I met over the hostel sangrias. Porto was made magical by the friends I made. I found France to be very mid until I met a lovely lady on the bus to Marseille.
Marseille really redeemed France for me, thanks to the fellow travellers I met on my walking tour – including the tour guide, who joined us for lunch.
I had a delightful seaside walk to a castle in Trieste that I wouldn’t have gone on if I hadn’t met the Belgian going through a similar mid-youth crises as me.
Brasov would have stood on its own feet as a destination because it is such a delightful city in the mountains, but it was made so much better by the group of solo travellers I met at my hostel.
In my experience, there are two main ways to find a buddy.
First; find a loner who looks a little bored and in the dorm or common areas of the hostel and just bluntly ask them if they want go out for a meal or a drink. Literally, some of my introductions have been;
“Hi, I’m Tanya. Wanna go grab dinner and chat?” People don’t really so no to an invitation like that, especially the solo travellers. I don’t approach people like that in my real life, but when you’ve gone a few days without talking to anyone, you get over any shyness or reservations.
Second; bond over laundry. I made at least three friends because laundry, a nasty chore at the best of times, is an absolute nightmare when hostel hopping. And expensive! I didn’t pack enough clothes to fill an entire machine, even when I washed every item. But it gets cheaper if you can split the cost and share your machine with someone else! And trust me, there are very few things that will bond two complete than strangers than washing your underwear together. While you wait for the laundry, you might as well get a drink or a meal together…
Of course, not every friendship starts off so blunt. Sometimes, conversations start more naturally, while waiting to check in or with the exchange of ‘WTF’ expressions at someone’s antics.
This way lies freedom
There is a kind of freedom to be unselfconsciously yourself when you’re travelling alone and know that most of the people you meet you’ll only know for three days, max. I’ve never felt quite the same freedom when I’ve been on tours or with a group of longtime friends. You can really let the weird out with.people you’ll only know for
Some of the friends I’ve made I’m still in touch with, but mostly, I don’t even remember the names of people I shared meals and drinks with. What can I say? I’m a friendship slut.
Brief but important
For all that temporariness, two hour friendship with the Australian I had brunch with in Lisbon is no less valid than my twenty year friendships with my childhood friends. Not as deep or binding, but still just as valid. I’ve got wonderful memories of the Brasov group; we went out for dinner and/or drinks every day while we were all there. I got new perspectives on my life choices from the Argentinian I met on the bus to Marseille. I learnt of the existence of Bled from fellow travellers in Trieste and that has been my favourite stop so far.
Those friendships, fleeting thought they were, are important. They were important for the social connection, for the widening of my horizons, for the experiences we shared. I’m never going to see most of them again, never call them in an emergency or invite them to my wedding. I will, however, be grateful for their temporary presence in my life. For bringing whatever town or city we were in to life for me.
A friend for a day is a memory for a life.
