While one is in Europe, cathedrals and castles slowly begin to lose their luster. Every time such a cultural monument is entered, the beauty and magnificence are shocking. One is taken aback by the splendor and decadence or the beautiful artistic simplicity. But this quickly passes and one is simply looking at another pretty wall. A few months back, a fellow philosophy student decided to grant me a great honor. If I so wished, I was allowed to place a book on a bookshelf that was once owned by Friedrich Nietzche. I nearly laughed out loud. You see in Europe everywhere you stand, eat, sleep, or defecate, someone important has done the same. Everyplace has a history. (This is not particular to Europe; it is just well documented here. Literally, there are signs on buildings saying, "So and so wrote this famous quote here!"). Perhaps I should be more impressed; however, I've come to find, like with most things in life, the people you meet along the way are the main reason to travel. Europe merely provides a lovely backdrop to eclectic personalities and conversations.
I joined couch surfing for this particular reason. Never particularly good at striking up conversations with strangers, I decided this would the best way for me to meet locals as I traveled. It has never felt unsafe, but to be honest, it has always been a wee bit strange. There was one time that a friend and I met a fellow couch surfer back in Basel. After telling us how he'd been hit by a car a couple weeks back and then had to save the life of the guy who hit him because he was having a heart attack, we started to doubt his veracity. Then after he told us he had made 10,000 CHF in one month by selling department store credit cards, we decided we had met up with a grade-A bullshiter. It was around twilight and we were sitting by the Rhine together listening to a concert a little distance off. I was telling him a little bit about my research when he jumped up and told me I simply had to see this cemetery. Thirty minutes later, my friend and I were standing in a medieval cemetery during a torrential downpour with this kid we had just met.
Only a couple weeks ago, I met a British man who was motorcycling across Europe and the Middle East. He had just come back from Turkey and Iraq, and my friend and I enjoyed the stories he shared with us over dinner. While hosteling, I've met a person studying English in Dublin and spending a weekend in Madrid for the Arnold Classic. In Morocco, there were several girls actually living in the Hostel. My friend and I would come down to the common room to find them mixing the solution for henna or simply drinking another pot of tea. There have been graduate students from Africa, peace corps volunteers, fellow students, upper-class Norwegians, and married couples vacationing. This is traveling for me. It is the conversations I have in broken English with a girl from South Korea complete with miming. It is saying yes because it is worthwhile to take a risk. It is asking someone you've just been talking to for five minutes to join you for dinner or coffee. It is making plans to visit in the future, although you know they'll probably fall through. But most of all, it is a camaraderie and openness that is rare in everyday life.
I joined couch surfing for this particular reason. Never particularly good at striking up conversations with strangers, I decided this would the best way for me to meet locals as I traveled. It has never felt unsafe, but to be honest, it has always been a wee bit strange. There was one time that a friend and I met a fellow couch surfer back in Basel. After telling us how he'd been hit by a car a couple weeks back and then had to save the life of the guy who hit him because he was having a heart attack, we started to doubt his veracity. Then after he told us he had made 10,000 CHF in one month by selling department store credit cards, we decided we had met up with a grade-A bullshiter. It was around twilight and we were sitting by the Rhine together listening to a concert a little distance off. I was telling him a little bit about my research when he jumped up and told me I simply had to see this cemetery. Thirty minutes later, my friend and I were standing in a medieval cemetery during a torrential downpour with this kid we had just met.
Only a couple weeks ago, I met a British man who was motorcycling across Europe and the Middle East. He had just come back from Turkey and Iraq, and my friend and I enjoyed the stories he shared with us over dinner. While hosteling, I've met a person studying English in Dublin and spending a weekend in Madrid for the Arnold Classic. In Morocco, there were several girls actually living in the Hostel. My friend and I would come down to the common room to find them mixing the solution for henna or simply drinking another pot of tea. There have been graduate students from Africa, peace corps volunteers, fellow students, upper-class Norwegians, and married couples vacationing. This is traveling for me. It is the conversations I have in broken English with a girl from South Korea complete with miming. It is saying yes because it is worthwhile to take a risk. It is asking someone you've just been talking to for five minutes to join you for dinner or coffee. It is making plans to visit in the future, although you know they'll probably fall through. But most of all, it is a camaraderie and openness that is rare in everyday life.
I 100% agree! This was always my favorite part of traveling. You get to meet people from all over the world who have different perspectives than your own - and oftentimes give you great ideas for what you'd like to do I the future.
ReplyDeleteIm glad you're getting to travel like this. I'm impressed with how far you've gone and how many risks you've taken! Awesome =)