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Some of my earliest Vagabonding experiences consisted of piling 4 people into a tiny 2 door sedan and rolling through several states without so much as a change of clothes or proper gas money. For years I travelled on the bare minimum, sleeping in cars or at impromptu camp sites. In hopes of saving on a bit of extra cash before an early morning flight, I have slept in bus stations in England, train stations in France, and airports in Belgium. I’ve even wiled away my remaining hours in the Czech Republic at an all night house music event at Akropolis in Prague.
However now, as I lean gingerly into my late 20s, I’ve noticed I’ve developed a proclivity for a few “luxuries” while on the road. When staying in hostels, I usually swipe an extra pillow from one (or two) of the empty beds in my dorm room. My train station squatting no longer registers as such a thrill, and I find myself more than happy to secure a hostel for even a few hours of exhausted shut-eye.
For many, these may not seem like luxuries, but after years of backpacking and roughing it, they are near decadent adjustments to my travel style. Have you developed any road “luxuries” along the way?
November 9th, 2009 at 2:06 pm
You’re going soft Colleen. I’m 37 and I’m getting even more militant than ever about my right to sleep in bus stations or walk around all night if that’s what I want to do. FREEDOM!!!!!
November 10th, 2009 at 6:17 am
Oh way back when in the 70s when I backpacked around Europe, I ended up on my 150 cc Lambretta motorscooter pulling into a campsite out of season in the former Yugoslavia, finding a tree, wrapping my one blanket around me, and sleeping. Desire for comfort begins with what you’re going through, bit by bit, pillow by pillow, and somewhere along the way evolves into hotels symbols in Michelen Guides. (btw, enjoying “Marco Polo Didn’t Go There”).
November 10th, 2009 at 12:06 pm
When I was backpacking across Europe and Turkey 10 years ago, the one thing I consistently longed for, was a proper bath. A big, fill it up to your neck–bathtub. Now when I travel, every once in awhile I’ll let myself splurge on a night in an inn or B&B that has a big old claw foot tub….and just soak away miles and days of grunge.