The Night I Stopped Traveling Alone

When I left my hometown forever, I thought that I’d spend most of my journey alone. As a teenager, I preferred to spend time behind my laptop in the virtual worlds of video games. Honestly, talking to or meeting strangers was terrifying to me. After spending my first month traveling alone and speaking only to the friends I was meeting, I felt like I was missing out, missing something. No matter where I was, I was alone. I didn’t have anyone to share these moments with. Even though I was terrified of talking to strangers, the urge to have people around grew stronger.

My first time in Paris, before I had the pleasure of moving to the city, I had found myself a hostel in the 11th arrondissement. It was my first hostel ever, and I didn’t know what to expect. As soon as I walked through the door, carrying my backpack and suitcase in hand, I knew I had to change something. The hostel had a warmth, a cozy feeling that made everything feel like it’d be okay. There was a group of strangers sitting at the large table in the middle of the room. Chatting, laughing, drinking together. I don’t know what eventually convinced me, but I checked in, and before even settling into my room, I sat down and asked to join them. The shy loner had made new friends in the blink of an eye, and it changed the entire course of my journey.

From that moment on, meeting new people became a vital part of my travels. I knew that from now on, meeting people was essential. It wasn’t just about not being alone in a foreign country; it was about sharing moments with others, finding people with different stories, different histories, and different aspirations in life. I know it’s a cliché, but you really can’t predict who you might meet, and who they might become in your life.