So we just spoke of why and – in the specific example of the Balkans – how groups of women travelers inadvertently create communities, even when they span countries or regions. This can be incredibly useful: need a recommendation for a hostel, a city, a cheap flight, or the best route? You can simply consult your network.
But the insidious part of these networks is when they work in reverse.
Meaning: when someone unworthy name-drops people in your circle.
You see, this works like a reference. If you meet someone new to you but they know your friends, it works like a tacit endorsement. A reference, if you will. And if someone names enough people in your circle of friends, your ad-hoc but necessary community of women that you’ve forged around yourself in order to stay safe, then you may assume that they’re one of you.
And look, I think in most cases I still will. I’m not saying the last week has ruined my life or my outlook on being or traveling. But fuck me: I just spent the last week with the most selfish, entitled, lazy bitch I think I’ve ever met in my life.
During a week where I’ve had more work shoved into too few days to a capacity that I haven’t experienced in weeks, she proceeded to make literally any and every noise within the one-room apartment we were sharing. This began when she rose in the morning and never ended until she’d fall asleep at night, and was a combination of whatever the fuck was coming out of her devices or, when that would finally cease for a minute or two, some really poorly sung song that literally no one needs to hear.
And when it would stop for more than 30 seconds or so, I could be nearly assured that she would be shortly on her way to wave her hand in my face until I removed the headphones I was invariably wearing to try and drown out her constant fucking noise. And I know what you’re thinking: Just ignore her and keep working! I tried that, and she shook me by the shoulder until I answered her.
In the evenings I was treated to her screaming and crying into the phone with her far-flung boyfriend while she oscillated between making baby noises and bursting into maniacal laughter at a decibel usually reserved for drunkenness or drug use.
I went to the grocery store with her once, and she tried to add things to my basket like I am her mother. I had to take her to the front of the store to show her where to get her own, and had t actually say to a grown adult: “you have to buy your own food.”
She had a complete meltdown when I hadn’t heard of a brand of chips.
Read that again.
She told me a story once, it was about a hostel in Belgrade she had volunteered at for a month. She told me about how everyone there was so rude, condescending, cliquey and mean. But after spending a couple of days with her, I realized that it was waaaay more likely that they weren’t like that at all.
They just didn’t like her. And I don’t fucking blame them.
So earlier today I lied to her and told her I was going back to Macedonia and instead I headed to the one place in town that she so maligned that I knew she wouldn’t be there.
And who was there to greet me? Friends. Friends from Skopje and Istanbul and Tirana. Behind the front desk was Augustina, whom I already knew, and I asked her what she had thought of this bitch while she was working there.
“Oh my GOD,” she all but screamed, “she’s so fucking selfish,” and I was like, dude, I know.
There are two stories here.
Check their goddamned references.
When someone manages to drop some names of people you know? Maybe message them real quick to make sure they’re legit before you take them under your wing like a goddamned baby bird. I wish I had in the beginning rather than finding out from my friends, literally while still in the thick of her bullshit, that none of them actually like her. Oops.
Ask yourself if you really like traveling.
The saddest part of the whole situation was watching someone devolve into a person they don’t need to – and might not – be. She frequently referred to traveling as her “dream life,” but as evidenced from her behavior: she fucking hates it.
She has immense amounts of trouble thinking and adapting on the fly, she hates walking more than a block with her backpack and just generally had way too much stuff, she spends most of her waking hours talking with people from her home country, and she cries every night.
And I know Instagram may have taught you that everyone loves traveling, but the truth is, most of y’all don’t. I’ve been trying to tell y’all this for years, and mostly what I hear back is that you’d do anything to be able to have my life. But guys.
If you wanted it, you would have it. But the honest truth is that you probably want other stuff more and that’s why you have that instead; things like security and romantic relationships and a house and kids or pets or whatever. Hear me when I tell you that I have to actively eschew all of those things in order to live like this, and I do so eagerly and readily.
And I know that even if you’ve managed to turn your life into a nomadic one, you may be swayed by sunk cost fallacy to dig in despite your distaste for it. That you may get out here and realize you miss the comforts of home, but decide, for whatever reason, that you’re not going to return.
You should.
So if you’ll excuse me, I’m being handed a beer by my Russian friend Alex whom I first met in Istanbul. I would normally wrap this more poignantly, but since I’m being pressed to extricate myself from my laptop I’ll leave you with this:
What do you really want?
–M