The North Carolina State Technician, NC
July 13 2005
Hangin’ with hippies
Posted: 07.13.2005
Caroline Monday
It’s not the places you go, it’s the people you meet.
The end of my great European adventure is frighteningly close. Six
weeks down, two to go. My head is filled with memories of all the
places I’ve seen and all the lessons I’ve learned during this
experience. I can even pick one lesson that stands out above all the
rest: it’s not the places you go that make traveling worthwhile, it’s
the people you meet. Truly, never in my life have I met so many
amazing people so easily.
Last Sunday is an excellent example of how, though I am traveling by
myself, I am never alone. I met a boy from Key West named Brandon on
the bus from Vila Nova to Barcelona. Brandon is an 18-year-old,
self-proclaimed “hippy” with bright red dreadlocks. I’ll be honest,
if I had met Brandon at home we probably would never have been
friends. At home we would seem very different from one another. In
Europe we are both backpackers out for the same thing: to experience
the world.
Brandon and I ended up spending the entire afternoon together going
to modern art museums. He taught me a few things about Dali and I
explained the story of Don Quixote. In the end we exchanged e-mails
and went our separate ways, promising accommodations should one of us
ever be in the other’s part of the world.
Not an hour later I went to dinner with a girl from New York and an
Armenian violinist staying at the hostel. Thanks to the Armenian, it
was one of the most educational meals I have ever had. Did you know
Cher is Armenian? Apparently Armenia is one of the most overlooked
countries in the world.
After dinner the New Yorker and I wandered around La Rambla and came
across a square surrounded by clubs and restaurants and full of
people just hanging out. We found a seat near the fountain in the
square’s center where men were peddling cans of beer for one euro.
Immediately the guy sitting next to me and I strike up a
conversation. Mark is a Swedish anarchist who has lived in Barcelona
for four years. He is an artist who survives by squatting in houses
and dumpster diving at grocery stores. He explained how the police
were trying to control us and where to buy a good sandwich for less
than two euros. Pretty soon two other Swedish guys and two Kiwis (New
Zealanders) joined the group and we all decided to go to a nightclub
together.
I met all these people in one day and I have every reason to believe
I will meet just as many people tomorrow or the next day. I may not
remember what year the Eiffel Tower was built or which pope
commissioned Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel but I will
remember these people — even if I don’t remember all their names.