“So where y’all from?”
That one simple phrase is the only thing necessary to spark an instant friendship
under the hostel roof. Backpackers
share many of the same traits – the spirit for adventure, a desire to see new
parts of the world, simple travel needs, being trusting enough to share quarters with
complete strangers, and the goal to do so in a cost conscious manner. Sharing a bathroom with a friend or a
sibling is hard enough for most.
Sharing a bathroom with someone who doesn’t speak your language is a
completely different experience.
After a couple solo trips around the end of my time at university,
there were so many elements of backpacking to which I’d become addicted. Traveling solo had a certain air of
freedom that, combined with cheap hostel rates, allowed for versatile travel
plans. Thus far, my whole life had
been meticulously planned from my educational and career path to my tennis
training. Traveling with only my
backpack was freeing, and began my desire for a new plan to have no
plan.
Arriving at the hostel dorm is the best part. After a brief check-in, I throw my
bag on my assigned bed and start introducing myself around. “So, where y’all from?” In the hostel, we are all on the same
team – traveling solo or in small groups, far from home, eager to explore, and
celebrating life on a budget. You
know that you and your dorm-mates already have many things in common, so after
the simple “where y’all from?” you can skip right to “what’s the plan for
tonight?!”
The common area of the hostel is a place for sharing a
cheap beer in the evening, hearing stories from the day’s sightseeing, and
formulating the plan for dinner and dancing that night.
“So, where you from?”
To be able to get this icebreaker off your lips, there must be someone
ready to receive it. This takes
eye contact. The hostel of 2013
however has unintentionally put a barrier in place to prevent this: Free WiFi.
Is WiFi killing the backpacking experience? And is it eroding the ability for
people to interact in the simplest yet most meaningful way possible -
face-to-face conversation?
Last month, I stayed in a giant hostel in Budapest I
affectionately called the Disney World of hostels. They’d literally thought of everything. It was clearly built by backpackers. The entire hostel was cleaned twice
daily. A hot breakfast was
included. They even had a small
shelf on the wall near the head of each bunk bed with an outlet to set down
your watch and charge your phone!
Most importantly there was a bar downstairs that was lively every
evening complete with a pool table, Palinka tastings, beer deals, and a free
drink on the evening you checked in.
I also stayed in a hostel in Istanbul a few days later that was a dump
comparatively, yet still sufficient.
And both places had the same thing in common: Free WiFi. Both
places I dropped my bag down, settled in, and came down to the lobby to find my
new hostel-mates in the lobby glued to their iPads and iPhones, ear buds
in. There was even one Australian
Face-timing loudly with someone back home on his laptop. No one looked up to acknowledge their
new arrival – me. So I sat, opened
my bottle of wine, read my book and hung out. Everyone else read news, sifted through Facebook posts, and
listened to music from their devices - everything they could have done back
home. They were so focused on
their electronic task that there was no looking up to appreciate the current
moment, take in the scenery, or make a new friend.
Rewind 9 years.
It’s 2003 and I’m backpacking for the first time ever, in Fiji. I stayed in hostels in the Colo-i-Suva
National Park and on Beachcomber Island, the latter a backpacker’s paradise
where the dorm had 100 bunk beds under one roof, wide open to the ocean breeze
entering freely on all sides. Each
evening after exploring during the day, I’d clean up in the dorm and go settle
in the lobby or main bar area for a drink, and I’d do the only thing left to do
– meet the rest of the folks staying there for the night. There was no WiFi. Both of these places didn’t even have
Internet access. Placing a call
back home required a pre-paid calling card. Thus, there were numerous steps (read barriers) necessary to
connect back to the “real world.”
Instead I was forced to participate in the present. Thank God for that. I met two generous Swedish
couples. I watched some rowdy
South Africans fail miserably at limbo.
And I took in one of the best evenings of my life – a Christmas Eve
complete with free boxed Chardonnay and a game of musical chairs with 11
strangers.
Six months later I found myself hopping through Europe over
5 weeks. I visited with friends I
met in Fiji and crashed in hostels when I was without a host. To use Internet then I could walk to
the Internet café, but that cost me a few Euros, which was a tough decision
when that could have been put towards a cold beer instead. The fact that energy was required to go
find an Internet café was a barrier to my decision to connect and I only
e-mailed my family and friends as much as was essential to let them know I was
alive and well. I was aware of my
surroundings. And my
blessings. And I was immersed in
the moment.
Now we find ourselves in the age of 24-hour news outlets and
second-by-second Twitter updates.
We in the States have slowly become comfortable with constant
stimulation, whether that is by TV, music, Facebook, or text messaging, and we
almost can’t live without it. I
see so much anxiety and attention deficit disorder and I have to think our
constant need for connectedness, and our inability to occasionally “check out”
from the stressors of daily life, is playing a role in this. For if you are used to constant visual
or auditory stimulation and then all of a sudden you have none, and are stuck
with a still view of the ocean or find yourself seated in a somewhat quiet
lobby or restaurant or bar, what would your natural reflex be? To worry? To reach back for your standard level of stimulation?
This is precisely why I am choosing to make a concerted
effort to resist the new norm.
And, at the risk of sounding like (or posing as) a backpacking elder, I
am calling all backpackers to do the same. Whether you’re away for a year or a week, old or young,
beginner or veteran, let’s return backpacking to its roots and keep the spirit
alive. Do it for your health, or
your sanity. But most importantly,
do it in the spirit of building new connections around the world.
My home life is very well planned, with a fairly steady
routine that relies greatly on the Internet and electronics. But when I travel, I travel to get
away. To escape my daily
routine. To experience something
new and meet new people. To rest
my brain, take a deep breath, pray, and reflect on how blessed I am
and my current position in life.
If I am constantly being told what’s happening on my iPhone
I fear I won’t be able to see for myself what is going on right in front of
me. So it takes a conscious effort
to stay off the iPhone, put it deep away in my bag and only use it for
essential communication. But it’s going
to take a community effort to renew our vows to each other to travel for the
original reason we were intrigued by the journey in the first place. Perhaps you wanted to take in a kava
ceremony in Fiji. Maybe you wanted
to reach the top of the Eiffel Tower.
You likely wanted to meet someone from a different culture and hopefully
share a meal with your new mate.
Maybe this is another vacation away from your daily work or a necessary
venture far from your comfort zone.
Whatever your inspiration for crossing international borders or flying
across oceans, your iPhone or iPad will not be necessary for you to accomplish
your end goal. And they’ll be
waiting for you back home – trust me.
So, disconnect.
Turn off. Be present and
soak in the moment. And the next
evening you’re in the hostel lobby or bar, decline the free WiFi and look
up. Our eyes will be able to meet
and my friendly Texan face will be smiling to greet you:
“So, where you from?” And we’re already friends.
