...especially when you've been married as long as I have. But sometimes in life, you have to know when you've outgrown each other, and just move on. And so I write this letter to you, as an homage to the important role you've played in making me the person I am today.
Dear Hostel,
Since our relationship began at the YMCA hostel in Bergen, Norway back in 2007, you've meant the world to me, literally and figuratively. You've put a roof over my head, placed mostly edible food in my mouth, and given me horribly uncomfortable beds on which to lay my weary head each night. You've provided an environment which has fostered many drunken mistakes but also given birth to some amazing friendships. Though there have been many times I've wanted to air my grievances on how you've treated me, I put in my ear plugs, donned my face mask and said, "Serenity Now," until falling asleep. Like a loyal religious follower, I donated money to your collection plate in every hostel except for those nights when I didn't. Sorry about those. Call it your penance for all the times you charged me to use the internet. You provided an environment which helped make the man who writes to you today, but while we were on a break in 2013, I met someone. I know I should have told you sooner, but I was waiting for the right moment. When I last left you in 2012, I didn't think we'd ever see each other again. I figured that after my 7 continent calendar year trip, my days of enjoying your company, were behind me. I never expected to meet the love of my life in early 2013, let alone marry her 8 months after our first meeting, but life is a crazy thing. All of this is to say, "It's not you. It's me." You've done nothing wrong. In many ways, like a fine wine, you've actually gotten better with age (though if you hadn't I'd be wondering what you've be doing with all my donations through the years). Whether you call it a 7 year itch or a midlife crisis (I just turned 35 the other day and I take it my card is in the mail), isn't important. What ultimately matters is that I've matured and you haven't. You see, now that I'm 35, while I still appreciate the guidance you give me in new environments and the value you provide in prolonging all of my travels, those benefits are purely superficial. But a cover is no longer good enough for me. It's what's between the covers which matters more to me these days, and let's face it, most of what's between your covers leaves something to be desired. You know that feeling when you own a house, invite some friends over for a fun evening, only to see the night morph into a hellish underage nightmare? Who am I kidding? Of course you do. You're a hostel. Little, if anything good, ever comes out of such situations, and that's how I feel about you anymore. I actually now find it difficult to talk to the people under your roof because they don't have any interest in me or the wisdom I've gained through my years of travel. They're really only concerned with when the bar crawl starts. Have you seen the clothes these kids wear these days. Silly t-shirts, skinny jeans that barely cover where the good lord split them, and trendy hipster shoes. I often wonder if they're getting anything out of their experiences other than repeated drunken nights out on the town. Are the habits they're now potentially developing going to forever negatively impact them or will they eventually become better members of society because of the experiences which you provide? I turned out for for the better, so hopefully with your continued guidance, so will they. Only time will tell, I guess. What matters though, is that you no longer provide with me enough meaningful conversation to make it worth staying with you for any reasons other than financial convenience. For that reason, I hope we can remain friends and continue our financially superficial relationship.
Forever grateful,
Jeremy
Dear Hostel,
Since our relationship began at the YMCA hostel in Bergen, Norway back in 2007, you've meant the world to me, literally and figuratively. You've put a roof over my head, placed mostly edible food in my mouth, and given me horribly uncomfortable beds on which to lay my weary head each night. You've provided an environment which has fostered many drunken mistakes but also given birth to some amazing friendships. Though there have been many times I've wanted to air my grievances on how you've treated me, I put in my ear plugs, donned my face mask and said, "Serenity Now," until falling asleep. Like a loyal religious follower, I donated money to your collection plate in every hostel except for those nights when I didn't. Sorry about those. Call it your penance for all the times you charged me to use the internet. You provided an environment which helped make the man who writes to you today, but while we were on a break in 2013, I met someone. I know I should have told you sooner, but I was waiting for the right moment. When I last left you in 2012, I didn't think we'd ever see each other again. I figured that after my 7 continent calendar year trip, my days of enjoying your company, were behind me. I never expected to meet the love of my life in early 2013, let alone marry her 8 months after our first meeting, but life is a crazy thing. All of this is to say, "It's not you. It's me." You've done nothing wrong. In many ways, like a fine wine, you've actually gotten better with age (though if you hadn't I'd be wondering what you've be doing with all my donations through the years). Whether you call it a 7 year itch or a midlife crisis (I just turned 35 the other day and I take it my card is in the mail), isn't important. What ultimately matters is that I've matured and you haven't. You see, now that I'm 35, while I still appreciate the guidance you give me in new environments and the value you provide in prolonging all of my travels, those benefits are purely superficial. But a cover is no longer good enough for me. It's what's between the covers which matters more to me these days, and let's face it, most of what's between your covers leaves something to be desired. You know that feeling when you own a house, invite some friends over for a fun evening, only to see the night morph into a hellish underage nightmare? Who am I kidding? Of course you do. You're a hostel. Little, if anything good, ever comes out of such situations, and that's how I feel about you anymore. I actually now find it difficult to talk to the people under your roof because they don't have any interest in me or the wisdom I've gained through my years of travel. They're really only concerned with when the bar crawl starts. Have you seen the clothes these kids wear these days. Silly t-shirts, skinny jeans that barely cover where the good lord split them, and trendy hipster shoes. I often wonder if they're getting anything out of their experiences other than repeated drunken nights out on the town. Are the habits they're now potentially developing going to forever negatively impact them or will they eventually become better members of society because of the experiences which you provide? I turned out for for the better, so hopefully with your continued guidance, so will they. Only time will tell, I guess. What matters though, is that you no longer provide with me enough meaningful conversation to make it worth staying with you for any reasons other than financial convenience. For that reason, I hope we can remain friends and continue our financially superficial relationship.
Forever grateful,
Jeremy
Hope you had a great time celebrating your 35th birthday in Norway. I'm sure it's a nice change of pace to be in a house and staying with family for a little while. Enjoy your time with Christina, Viktor, Laura and Synnove. You are very luckily to have someone from Norway share their country with you. Send them our best.
ReplyDeleteHappy Travels,
Mom G