Hostel Musings

I don’t want to sound like a broken record but… I am frustrated with travelling alone. I feel like I am treading the same streets over and over. Seeing the same history. Tasting the same food. And always going to bed early.

Usually I give myself two days somewhere, and try to see as much as possible so as to not get lonely or anxious, but Palma is small, and I have an extra full day to myself. I decided to stretch myself – I booked a cave excursion to the north of the island, knowing that I’d have to be social and polite, but happy to be out of the city and feel less alone. Only hours later the company informs me that it is now winter, and there is not tour for a few days. Boom. Now I have 24 hours to myself. To tread the same streets I’ve walked numerous times since I arrived. To drink more coffee. To sit and watch people.

What do normal people do on holiday? How do they keep busy? How do they spend their time? Do they sit in cafe’s reading? Maybe they travel with others. I’m just wallowing. I love being alone, to read, to watch TV, to daydream. But for some reason I’ve lost the love for it. I’m yearning for someone to share Europe with. To share adventures with.

I have no more leave until April, bar some already booked trips, but in the meantime, I will explore tour options and force some social interactions with like-minded folk. How does one meet people in this social media era? How do anxiety ridden twenty-somethings make friends? I certainly don’t know. Don’t feel sorry for me, at least I have my flatmates who I pass once in a while on the landing. And my colleagues who I occasionally see between bouts of stress and coffee. They’re all older and wise, and take no nonsense – I’m learning. Suddenly it’s so important to keep up with my old friends from home, who know me, who love me, who accept me. And especially whose who live on the same side of the world! What a blessing!

Also- what is with us privileged white kids and only speaking English? Everywhere I go I am surrounded by a multitude of languages, and youngsters who speak switch from one to another with ease. But not me. Not the Americans and the British that I meet in hostels. I’m stereotyping, but seriously! Every child should learn a European language, it’ll take them far in life. I feel guilty every time I have to say “No Espanol”, and make an apologetic shrug. That’s what breaking barriers is about – racial, language, social. People who speak multiple languages can cross cultures better than any of us English only speakers. That’s something to thrive for.

I’m rambling. This is why I shouldn’t be left alone for too long. The beauty of travelling also opens my eyes to the harshness of reality. The barriers, the “haves” and “have nots”, the “poverty tourism”, the egocentricity of some tourists, the ignorance of others. maybe that is make what making me lonely? I don’t want to simply be a tourist looking in at others lives – I want to be a positive impact, to give back, to be of use.

Off to plan my life of servitude. I’ll keep you posted.