Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I pulled into the town center, parked Kindness One legally for once, and in record-break-
ing time, found someone to be nice to me—apparently kindness happens quicker in Croa-
tia. I even met a finalist from Croatia's version of
American Idol
. Though she couldn't offer
me a place to stay, she gladly sang me a song to ease the rejection. Afterward, she told me,
“There is hostel just down the street. Maybe they help.”
I figured anyone who can get on
Croatian Idol
must know what they're doing. I got
back on Kindness One and located the hostel near the picturesque square that was the heart
and soul of the city. Before I even made it to the front desk, though, I ran into a fellow
traveler, Fraser, or, as I would soon be calling him, “The Scotsman.” The Scotsman was a
slight man with cropped dirty-blond hair and an easy smile. I told of him of my journey.
He offered to buy me a coffee at the hostel's café, and as we sat and talked, I felt as
though I were looking into a mirror. Fraser's love of adventure reflected my own desire for
the road and all its magic and madness.
Fraser explained his plan to travel for the next four years by bicycle. “I just wanted to
do something that I would look on for years to come and think, 'What an amazing experi-
ence.' And I'm just at the point in my life where if I don't do it now, I probably never will.”
“It's funny, Fraser,” I looked into my coffee as I spoke, as though I might see my future
in there. “I have this wonderful woman back home, in LA, and I left, and some days on the
journey, I don't know why I did, and then I have moments like this and I wonder whether I
will ever be willing to give them up.”
My new friend completely understood. As he explained, most of his friends and family
were already married with children. “I'm not ready to settle down,” he continued. “And I
suppose I just realized that this is an opportunity I can't afford not to take.”
This man was speaking my language. The purest form of Scottish known to man! He
knew what it was like to attend weddings, be the best man, hold your brother's baby in
your arms, and know that it just wasn't your time yet. Know that it might never be your
time, that finding a soul mate in a hostel in Zagreb, meeting musicians from Benin on the
streets of Aix-en-Provence, driving through Nebraska and Slovenia, and crossing the At-
lantic Ocean might be the most permanent things in the world. Life on the road provided its
own home. But as I drank the rest of my coffee, I couldn't help but wonder, at what price?
Fraser explained, “I think that part of the problem is if you're not passionate about
something, there's only so much you can give. I'm passionate about this, so . . .”
His voice cracked, the emotion seeping through. I understood. It was the joy that comes
when you finally stop living the life others have given you and you start living the one you
