March 27, 2005

After meeting up with two other friends in Rome, five of us set off by ferry to spend the second half of our spring break in Greece. Having come full circle on that little journey, I think I might finally be able to make some reflections on the overdone concept of the American backpacker in Europe.

It seems that the first maxim of student traveling is that you absolutely must check any previous conceptions of comfort or hygiene at the border. Perhaps we’ve been slightly spoiled by traveling with our parents all these years, but I’m willing to argue that the simpler, albeit less predictable, route is the way to go.

Let’s start with sleeping arrangements for example. In the states, we take it for granted that wherever we sleep there will be a bed, towels, sheets, maybe even a bathroom—all unnecessary. Here, I find it completely normal to sleep fully clothed and stacked like books with five other people in a closet-sized train cabin. Sleeping below an Italian businessman wiping his armpits down with moist towlettes, and waking up to a flashlight in my face from the border guards as they check to see if the R. Boosh (as I am now accustomed to hearing it pronounced) is of any relation to their “favorite” American President, are just part of the overall experience.