My Journal #2
Before good memories fade
So the first time I put my thoughts into words was almost two months ago and a lot has happened since then. What essentially kept me from writing was that I experienced friendship. If it sounds corny, let me put in a simple way: I kept myself busy spending time with wonderful people.
This doesn’t mean that the noise inside my head is gone. I still feel lonely. I still feel uncomprehended. I still don’t feel like myself. I am half of me. Maybe less. I am someone that tries to emulate another guy with a personality restrained in a more resourceful language.
What happens now is that sometimes I have people to share these feelings with and that’s good. Nevertheless, I still feel that I need to spill it all out here again. Before everything becomes a vague memory. Like when waves meet the shore sand and slowly turn into foam.
So, before they disappear, facts first.
The Permanent Guests
On my first week I found comfort in a dysfunctional group of people in a hostel in London. As in any hostel, Saint James Backpackers' guests were young men and women living abroad mostly, but there was something particular about them.
I believe that what brought them together in some sense of family was the curious presence of some “permanent guests”. People who had made there their home, and not just a place of passing. Characters like a lovely retired Englishman or the Italians who worked in a restaurant nearby. They were all fighting to find meaningfulness in their exchange with others and that's what struck me most.
The staff who lived there can be included in this group too. They managed to bring people together every night in a well known formula: food and Netflix. By just signing my name on a list I could get a free dinner, but sometimes I didn't even bother. I was simply there to enjoy their company and not even to watch the movie.
So it seemed really logical to I extend my stay there each night until I felt that I had to move on — which I did after four nights. When that happened, I went to other hostels in a attempt to be closer to the places I wanted to visit, although I already knew I wouldn't experience that kind of friendship from the Permanent Guests again until I got to Newcastle.
Surprisingly, London still had some nice encounters on my way though….
The Old Coffee House
Once I went into a pub in Soho to watch a football match, just for the sake of having this extremely English experience. I was drinking on my own when a man caught my attention and asked me to come talk to him.
He had a tired but kind face, exposing his more than 30 something years of experience in a humble expression. If I felt uncomfortable at first, that was long gone after 5 minutes of chatting. The man happened to be a carpenter, an immigrant and the employer of the other Australian men around him. One of them that, by the way, happened to be married to the owner of the pub.
You probably imagined that I got some free pints on them that night — which I did, only one if I remember correctly — but the most important thing I got from them was some advice. Careful words about living that I’ll take with me. I’m still reflecting on those words as I write this and I don’t know what to do with them. I felt I had earned it to soon.
I wasn’t waiting for it.
A disclaimer about London
On that same night at the Old Coffee House I also met a nice Londoner who made me reconsider the bad portrait I had about the people of that city and the city itself. He showed me that I should be able to find good people everywhere. It all depended on me.
Honestly I thought I was always open to people. But I was not. Even though I stumbled across some lovely Austrians and Israelis on my way, I could have done so much more if I had just questioned and pushed myself more often. Not only on this but on many other things. Because here's where the problem lies: there’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance — which I’ve been crossing. I was not as good as I imagined and life kept proving that to me. Thankfully, in a way I could keep growing to be even better. And I am still learning.
But that's a story for another day. I have to get me some lunch. I’m starving.