It's not about the places you see; it's about the people you meet

Thursday, July 27, 2006

The Couchsurfing Collective was being held in a school in the small town of Eisenstadt, an hour outside of Vienna. I had really looked forward to volunteering my time to a project that I believe in so completely and that has already given me many memorable experiences and the opportunity to meet such wonderful people. Sadly my timing was off. The workshops on various topics were wrapping up Wednesday when I arrived and the “kids” were getting down to the serious business of just relaxing together. Everyone had pretty much established their smaller groups, as large groups always do, and were talking (and/or drinking) in groups, wandering the town, or enjoying the local swimming pool down the hill. Having arrived too late to contribute anything of significance, I felt at first like I had wasted the time in coming - though I was happy to at least shake the hand of Casey Fenton, the man who conceived, programmed, and implemented couchsurfing.com. Though I didn’t talk to him to any great extent, he was fascinating to watch – one of those people who remains an idealistic dreamer with their feet planted firmly in the ground. He has a quiet way about him but in the way of great leaders who command by respect rather than words. When people speak to him, he listens, really listens. No matter how young, naïve, drunk, or foolish they may be, he looks every single person in the eye and listens intently to what they have to say. It was an impressive quality in a man so young. He has touched so many lives by simply bringing into reality the vision he saw in his mind. If only we all had the guts and the glory to create that which we imagine. What a place this world would be.

I wandered a bit lost Wednesday, trying to find my place in this already bonded group. As I always do in such situations, I reverted to the position of the observer - a place of comfort for me and probably part of what drives the desire to write – a longing for the opportunity to express all that I see. I could see the little melodrama stories unfolding, girls lamenting the unfairness of others, boys with their testosterone battles, country prejudices, divides in the collective regarding directions to go as the project moved forward. This was the first time this group had put a meeting together and while they really tried hard, they just didn’t have the experience to know how to account for reality within theory. The ‘planned’ two hour scavenger hunt, which was brilliant on paper, kept people out in the woods until one in the morning the last night we were there. Meetings were undirected and schedules poorly coordinated. But life is only learned through the school of hard knocks. Sometimes we get lucky, but as a general rule, especially where large groups of people are concerned, you only learn what works by doing what doesn’t first. All things considered, namely inexperience, I think they did a grand job.

It was entertaining to me waking up Thursday morning in the gym on my little mat in a sea of mats to a symphony of snores and ringtones. Alarms were going off everywhere, unheard by their owners many of whom were passed out from drinking the night before or just plain exhausted from the week. One of the coordinators was going around searching bags for singing phones to turn them off. Between the snoring and the ringing, it was all quite amusing. Commune living, along with studying abroad, should be an educational requirement. We shared the work, the chores, the cooking, the cleaning, and the privileges like the computer room with full internet access. The computer room was filled with travelers searching couches and activists promoting their particular program. The energy and enthusiasm of youth is such a beautiful thing. They see ways and worlds we “old folk” can’t even conceive. Did you know there are still tribes of “nomads”:? People who still live Siddhartha style of the generosity of others, spreading their word to make this world a better place. I asked one of these young men how he traveled for years at a time. He explained to me, with a light-filled look reminiscent (please don’t strike me down God) of our depictions of Jesus, that he used to need 200 euro a month to survive but had learned how to get by on 50. I don’t get by some days on 50 euro! Many of the kids at the collective get around by hitchhiking instead of rail. Apparently you don’t see them on the road anymore because they pick up rides at the service stations these days. It is hard to imagine American kids having such spunk… and faith.

The highlight of my two days was sitting on the field Thursday morning as we waited to say our goodbyes to Casey, talking with Serena, Gregoire, and Konstantinos about couchsurfing, America, Europe, education, and various other soap boxes that I happily climbed onto. Gregoire is from Brussels, Belgium. With long dark hair and penetrating though soft eyes, he reminded me of the classic Bohemian Frenchman. He had a gentle, easy spirit – a comforting presence. Konstantinos is from Athens, Greece and I later learned is one of the couchsurfing administrators. He maneuvered easily between light hearted joking and serious conversation, one of those people who gets along with everyone. They had been up all night and were in that peaceful, world-waking-around-you place that we have all known after deep conversation with a new love or friendship. Serena reminded me of a dragonfly, small and long and light. She is from Florence, Italy, speaks seven languages fluently, and is the only Italian besides Antonella I have ever met who speaks English without a brutal accent. She is an attractive woman but all the more beautiful for her graceful, easy way. She even moved like a dragon fly, lighting up as she talked, twisting her lithe body to adjust her legs, sitting up cross legged when she was excited, bending her knees and tucking her legs behind her when she was listening casually, pulling one knee to her chest when the conversation was more intense.

We talked for hours as the sun began to warm the day, mostly about America and Americans and why I believe so much in what I am doing. It was one of those intense “college” conversations that aside from Carrie in Madrid, I haven’t had (in quite that way) in years. Gregoire told me I had a “relaxing” voice. I have been told many things when I’ve been talking for hours, but never that my voice was relaxing! Those hours on the field were powerful for me. So often, on this trip and otherwise, I am running, pushing to see the next place, write the next piece, do the next thing. So often I have a sense that I am losing time, that there is a list and it needs to get done and spending too long just talking and not being productive fills me with guilt. For a few hours I just sat still and bonded with these strangers from different corners of Europe. We re-grouped that night and talked until the sun came up the next day. At some point during our conversations about traveling, Serena said in her melodic, clear voice – “It’s not about the places you see, it’s about the people you meet.” It is nice when a forty year old can learn something so powerful from a 27 year old. I hope our paths cross again, but regardless whether they do or not, I believe I will always hear her voice in my head when I am pushing too hard, too fast, past the people who can touch and enrich and nourish my life, reminding me what it is all about. I didn’t see Eisenstadt but I sure met some great people there and for that it will forever remain in my heart.