One thing about me: I might forget your name. But I will never forget a good story.
If I got a penny every time I met someone, struck up a conversation, and never learned their name, I still wouldn’t be able to afford a 5-star hotel, but I could definitely pay for one night of sleep without snoring, creaking bunk beds, or someone whispering on FaceTime at 3 a.m.
It’s happened countless times over the years: planes, trains, supermarkets, ATMs, bars, and, obviously, hostels. At some point, my mind started going blank when people told me their name, because I was already thinking about the follow-up questions:
- Where are you from?
- What brings you to Prague?
- What’s you biggest fear?
- Do you believe in love?
… and other mundane (not to say superficial) ice-breaker questions.
My trip to Prague was no different! (Did y’all really think that was a random reference? Please, you should know better by now: when there’s a sign, there’s a story)
After hearing about a dinner party at the hostel, my mom and I (yes, she witnessed this one) canceled our dinner plans and decided to join. It was LASAGNA NIGHT and there was no way I was missing an event where you can mingle while grating cheese. No, literally, that I was the task I got assigned. A highly important task, but simple enough to let me chat with everyone.
And It truly felt like everyone had amazing life stories.
- There was the Mexican girl who shocked her mom by dropping out of college to be an au pair in France, because she wanted to learn languages and see the world. Roughly a year later, she was fluent in English and French.
- The Brazilian receptionist, who actually finished her degree, but still ended up flying across the Atlantic because her dream life had nothing to do with it… or with her home country.
- The guy from the UK, an experienced nurse with a stable life who turned down a very promising ($$) job offer to play the guitar in old-town bars and on street corners.
- The Canadian girl who was technically there for work, but traded the company hotel for a hostel because she missed connection. “I love traveling alone, I do it all the time.” she said “But I force myself to have some social interaction every now and then because it feels nice. I meet new people, and at the end of the day, still get to do what I want” – that’s roughly what she said, as far as my memory can trace it back to 2017.
Oh yeah, and there’s that: it was 2017, which means I was 17. (WHERE MY 2000’s PEOPLE AT!?)
That explains, partly, why I was travelling with my mom (story for another time) and why I was amazed by all those stories. I still am, even after hearing countless more.
The only difference is that back then, when asked about my life story, I’d giggle, probably blush a tiny bit, and say “I’m still in high school. I have a maths test the day after tomorrow” (again, true).
What didn’t quite strike me back then was that I wasn’t that impressed with WHAT people were doing, but HOW. They were doing things differently. It’s like they jumped off a plane without caring where to land and relying only on life’s parachute (Or, if you want a geographically closer reference, relying on an umbrella, like in Michal Trpák’s sculptures.)
Something about hearing those stories chipped away at my idea of what a “normal” path even was, the idea of following everyone’s expectations but your own.
Sometimes I wish I could thank them for their unintentional contribute to the person I’ve become, but I guess then I’d have to thank every single person who’s ever told me their story – and that’s a lot of people, especially if you don’t even know their names (guilty as charged).
SO I GUESS MY POINT IS: It doesn’t matter who’s doing it right or wrong. We’ll always relate more to some stories than others (Siri play Vienna by Billy Joel)
"Slow down, you’re doing fine"
… you get it.
For me, hearing these stories, especially while traveling, isn’t so much about the plot, but the possibility!
Little did I know that I too would, a couple of years later, drop out of college, move to a completely random country and do something I had never imagined – and live my best life.
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Warning: Following may result in spontaneous one-way ticket purchases and an irrational fear of itineraries.
