I studied at the University of Exeter in England from 1998-99, and every day felt like a vacation. I think every day in life should be a holiday, but when we’re at home in some mundane setting -- even on the campus of the lovely College of William and Mary in Virginia -- the days seem to contain so much boredom until Friday (or for some, Thursday) night rolls around and it’s time to hit the frats, just like last weekend, and the weekend before that, and the one before that, and the . . .

When I was abroad, I took life one day at a time instead of looking ahead to midterms, finals, semester break, and so on. This is also because the English don’t have any of these except for an essay or two and a final examination. When you’re abroad you realize that your time is limited and that the friendships you make may not last past the year. Somehow you compromise studying and socializing because a) you’re of the legal drinking age and b) the pub is just ‘round the corner. But seriously, I have done some work since I’ve been here, partly because I’m an archaeology major so I can go sightseeing as part of my studies. Yet I still feel closer to some of the people I met over here than I do with some of my friends back home. Maybe it’s because certain cultural differences can bring people closer together as they learn about one another.

I have greatly valued the things I have seen this year. The hundreds of photographs will prove that. But I have been most interested in the people I met throughout my travels. It’s interesting to learn their perspectives and to find out where their lives have taken them. I have found that most people are keen to learn about other people, and this is proven by my experience at the Hotel Alessandro, a nifty little youth hostel in Rome that appeals to the student crowd. If you’re interested in the sites of Rome, then buy a guidebook, or visit them yourself. A place never becomes alive for a person until they’ve seen it, breathed it, and walked it. You may not enjoy the blisters, but the calluses will always bring back memories of your adventures. Looking at my travel diary, I noticed that I haven’t written much about the sites I saw in Rome. There’s a note in my diary reminding me to do that, but it probably won’t get done until later this summer. Instead, my story is about the people of Hotel Alessandro, the journeymen and women of Rome.

The world is composed of many different people, and this is most obvious in youth hostels around the planet, where individuals of all walks converge and rest their little heads. You’d think that they would be too busy with their own sightseeing plans to even bother talking to the other hostel residents, but for some, meeting new faces is an important part of their adventure. Of course, chatting to the strangers who you’ll be rooming with is probably not a bad idea. If you think you might wake up dead and penniless after introducing yourself to your roommates, you may want to switch rooms. I bet you can tell that I wasn’t paranoid when I experienced youth hostelling for the first time this past March at the Hotel Alessandro in Rome, Italy.

Oh no. I was so comfortable with the situation that I refused to go back to the hostel before 10 p. m. on the first night. "What is there to do at the hostel?" I asked my travelling buddy, Will. "I don’t know any of the people and the place is so small there’s hardly anywhere to sit and relax." Will thought me a little odd for not wanting to go back until everyone was asleep, but he kept quiet for fear of my wrath and agreed to walk the streets of Rome, which he enjoyed immensely. That night was probably the best moment we had in Rome. We went to St. Peter’s Basilica and gazed upon its glowing domes, set against a deep purple sky. A couple of clergymen strolled around the square looking up as we did. Were they thinking about their ties to religion, or whether the Pope was watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

It was getting late and I was very tired. We had to go back to the hostel and I had to face the strangers. I don’t know what I was worrying about, but sleeping in a room with three strangers is a daunting thought. At least Will would be there to protect me. It started to rain on the walk home and quite instantaneously, the Indian street vendors appeared from out of the shadows bearing bags of umbrellas. Where they stashed their pirated Gucci bags and DKNY shades that they carried earlier in the day is a mystery. Maybe there’s a parallel universe, accessible through magically appearing portals, in which the street vendors can store their goods. Anyway, we were carrying umbrellas, yet they still tried to sell us the wretched things.

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Helen & friends Patricia, Will, Simon, Jemma in Rome
courtesy of Helen Blouet
[click on photo for enlarged image]

Guess what, our intrepid edita-in-chief happened to stay at the same hostel the year before and met equally interesting people.
courtesy of Yuan-Kwan Chan
[click on photo for enlarged image]

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