We did road trips and traveled within the US as a child but I had never left the USA until my Sophomore year of college. I was 19 years old and somehow managed to backpack Europe alone and without a plan other than my Eurorail pass. I flew into Heathrow and knowing I would visit family there at the end of my trip I hopped on the Chunnel to Paris. The customs agent stamping my passport asked if I spoke French and when I said, “no” he simply chuckled with a “good luck.” I was nervous and a bit scared but off I went.
My Lonely Planet guidebook had mentioned some hostels just off the station so I wasn’t overly worried about lodging. And then I arrived in Paris…. I was greeted by guards with machine guns and dogs (something that wasn’t common back then in the US) and a man in a trench coat whom I could only assume was offering me a peepshow or a fake Rolex. Needless to say I didn’t stick around to find out. I briskly made my way to the Métro and caught a train to the Latin Quarter where I had read there were cheap hotels.
Emerging from underground, I noticed the sun was setting and started to worry about how late it was getting. Dragging my roller suitcase behind me I went from hotel to hotel trying to find a room I could afford. With night upon me I finally decided upon a room for $40 a night (my entire daily budget) and tucked in for the night; absolutely exhausted.
It was an interesting 4 days in Paris, mostly comprised of me wandering around afraid to talk to anyone or eat anything beyond the complimentary breakfast, king sized Snicker’s bar, and 2 bags of beef jerky I had brought from home. Insecurity aside, I still managed to have a wonderful time. I silently explored the beautiful city; spending an entire day in the Louver, climbed the Eiffel Tower, explored Notre Dame, and tried all-be-it unsuccessfully to see the catacombes.
Tired and hungry, I took an overnight train to Heidelberg. I knew some German and felt instantly comfortable ordering everything I could at the train station cafeteria. The attendant jokingly asked if I was hungry as I took my tray full of food away. I sat and had breakfast with a homeless man and his dog, Juliette, before heading out to explore. With the smell of baking bread filling the morning air I walked along the Rhine river to the old city. Fog still resting along the opposite hillside I wandered the cobblestone streets, farmers market, and castle throughout the day before catching a late night train to Berlin.
I watched the castle fireworks and finally made some friends as the train headed Northeast. I joined them, staying at the same hostel, and enjoyed a Fat Tire Bike Tour of the city, trip to the beer garden in the park, and eventually admitting it was my 20th birthday which we promptly had to celebrate. It was a turning point in my travels.
The moment fear left me and excitement settled in. I realized I didn’t need to be afraid of strangers; in fact, as fellow travelers, we were not actually strangers but potential friends and companions along a similar path of self and cultural exploration. Traveling alone didn’t actually mean I was alone. I could always make new friends and choose to join them for various parts of their adventures or cross paths later on. I could openly ask questions and share information on things to do and see or potentially skip. It opened the door to an entire world of opportunities for adventure and learning new things; of new people, places, and experiences that I couldn’t wait to explore.
I saw the salt mines and Eagle’s nest in Austria. Tried on metal-mesh, shot a medieval crossbow, and learned how to properly drink absinthe in cave-like bars in Prague. Falling in love with the only city virtually untouched by WW II; I stayed longer and danced with elderly locals singing American TV show theme songs in Czech at The American Bar. Then, Rome, Florence, and Venice where I saw the Pope and ate my weight in gelato!
Studying in Barcelona, I spent many siestas on the beach and filling my journal in Parque Guell or on the tiny apartment balcony watching kids spray painting the wall across the street. Recalling the time I got cut off getting on the subway only to catch sticky fingers attempting to empty my purse. I explored Spain with it’s rich cultural history between regions and appropriately crazy Dali museum. Took weekend trips to Nice and Portugal where I had to ride in the luggage area because there weren’t any seats left on the last train back to Barcelona. And finally ending in England with it’s pubs and double-decker red buses filling my Hollywood stereotyped tourist heart with delight.
It was a constant adventure and uniquely my own. I had made so many new friends and memories all before Facebook existed for me to share it on. It may have been my first time out of the country but almost instantly I knew traveling was in my blood.
