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Backpacking, how have you changed

Backpacking, how have you changed.

Thinking back some years, I start to remember my first trips as a backpacker. Entering a community so unique, you actually were proud telling others that you were backpacking.

Traveling whole continents and all you needed was stored in a backpack and a day bag. Most times one did not need to make a reservation at hostels, there was always a bed for you, and if not, they made space for you and your sleeping bag. Hitchhiking across Canada was one of the major events at the beginning of my travels. 9,000 kilometers along the Highway 17, from Halifax to Vancouver, and when truckers stopped to ask where you wanted to go, you simply replied “West, just west.”

Today, some years later, I tried to get a bed in a hostel in Florence. One more time I had to find out that hostels aren’t the same any more. Nowadays you need to make reservations days, sometimes weeks in advance. Years ago, you were glad to know what kind of day in the week it was. Most times no chance in telling someone the exact date. You never really knew what day you were getting into what town or city. Making reservations did not make sense, because most times you had to call up again and cancel, or change. But then, these were the times when there was no internet, no mobile phone. Guide books, fliers and the “Word of mouth” was the way to go. You called your family once every week or two, just to let them know that you are still alive, or, of course, when mum’s birthday came up. You sent letters to friends, including photos you made and hastily brought to a photo shop for developing; hoping the guy owning the place at the harbor of Hong Kong knew what he was doing. At least he did it cheap.

These were also the times when hostels were opened by travelers who knew what a hostel was all about. They were opened by heart. They were run by heart. Travelers from all over the world worked in places all over the world. After hitching across Canada, I went to California, ending up at the Grand Pacific Hostel as a receptionist. The Grand Pacific was the kind of place you left for, or came back from Central and South America. Trying to find a job in a hostel, just to save money. Sometime later I went back to San Diego and managed the place for a few months. Just for fun. Well, and to save some money.

Hitching at the Panama Canal to reach Hawaii and the Islands in the South Pacific, and then, Terra Australis, one felt a bit like Captain Cook, discovering new grounds, new ways. Last year I stayed in a hostel in Barcelona. I lay on my dorm bed, when a young lady and her boy friend came in and took two beds in the room. We started talking and both told me that they just flew in from London for four days with a budget air line. 30 minutes later, the lady sat on her bunk bed, talking into her mobile phone, telling people on the other end that she is backpacking Europe. Now, I looked at her language and need to say, the size of her suitcase fitted exactly the description of one sea case getting lost with the Titanic. Amazing what one needs to “backpack” 4 days through Barcelona. A moment, I wished I would be back on Tuvalu. You know Tuvalu? The small disappearing island in the South Pacific. 12 years ago, when you got off a boat there, you could pay 100US$ and stay for one month.

The 100$ were a sort of visa. There wasn’t much around on these islands. All you needed was a little hut, and the will to go fishing or pick fruits when you were hungry. And, if you didn’t get bored during the first month, you paid another 100$ and you stayed another month. Till you got bored, or till you had to get back to civilization. Alex Garland wrote about this kind of life in the nineties. Do you know “The Beach”? Forget the movie, the book is the treat. They were selling black market copies in hostels in Asia. It was the only way to get a book, every backpacker was talking about. I am talking that kind of life.

Today, I sat on a couch in front of the reception of a hostel in Florence and the owner of that hostel sarcastically asked me if I want to sleep on that couch because, like he told me, there is no space available in his hostel for this night.

There were times, when hostel owners proudly offered the spot on the couch. It had to do with honor. But then, in those times, hostel owners and receptionist weren’t annoyed by phone calls from backpackers at 8am. Those times, hostels knew exactly what was going on at their place. No online booking interfered with their exact knowledge of how many beds you had available. At 8 am they would have told you a yes or no. Not, “we will have a bed for you.” And when the annoying traveler asked if it was ok to come to the reception and get things done, things would have been done. Because, although travelers like to hike, they hate to waste time and strength by walking to a place for nothing, wasting 6 hours just to hear, “We have no bed for you!”

Funny was that I would have had a bed, or a room, if I would not have walked there and showed up at the reception. If I would have booked online, I would not have needed to walk at 2pm and 38 Celsius to some other hotel. True, the owner recommended it. And the way he acted, he thought that I would be so glad that he saved me from spending the night on the streets of Florence that I would praise all gods of traveling. But he didn’t carry my packs for 15 minutes through the heat. That’s why I do not praise him. I thank him for the offer organizing a bed for me. I respect him for that. But the effort came 6 hours too late.

Nowadays, the most important thing to owners of hostel sort of accommodations is the mammon. And making sure that 4 day budget fliers are satisfied. True, you need to pay your bills, it has always been that way and it always will be. That’s probably the reason, why a couple booking online some time after I checked at the reception in person, got the room. The single becomes a double. And the double is more expensive.
Times changed, like I said before. I always liked to travel. Being one of a few lucky ones, able to cross the iron curtain on a special visa and rumble around the Soviet Union, East Germany or Czechoslovakia, I tasted the air of freedom. Well, not really while traveling the east of Europe during the eighties, but still. Traveling is the best education you can get. No teacher is able to give you the kind of lessons you have while rumbling around other countries. So, again I am thankful for a lesson learned while traveling.

That the old way of backpacking the world doesn’t get you anywhere at most places, because new generation hostels and their way of business aren´t beatable, especially in times of online booking. And, that there is always one guy out there who thinks he knows the world.