Tripping About

I’m not going to lie, the idea of traveling alone for the first time in a foreign country terrified me.

The most I’d done up to then was take myself on day trips within driving distance of wherever I lived. Whether that meant hiking, going to museums, or simply walking around downtown, I never ventured farther than four hours from home on any given day alone. That being said, I’m a firm believer of enjoying your own company, so when I studied abroad, I decided I’d be able to entertain myself on my own for nine days of travel afterwards.

Or at least I hoped I could.

Ultimately, that wasn’t what had me worried. What really kept my thoughts running in circles was the idea of staying in a hostel.

I was willingly putting myself in a position where I was expected to peacefully sleep in a room with 35 other strangers, only a curtain for privacy. The introvert in me quaked at the idea. I cherish my alone time. That’s entirely a luxury I know, but I was the girl that asked for, among other things, “privacy” as a Christmas present from Santa when I was seven.

Not to besmirch his name or anything, but he never did deliver on that one.

For me, and a fair amount of other people I know, I need alone time to recharge and regroup so I can be as functional a member of society as I ever am.

So this trip had me torn between butterflies of excitement at the idea of finally getting to explore, and slight gut-wrenching terror because dear god I didn’t speak the language of two of the three countries I planned on visiting. But if I was going to walk around claiming to want to see the world and write about it, I better prove it – to myself if no one else.

And so I went. Studying abroad for a month, I decided to take myself to Paris for a weekend at the spur of the moment, and finally off to Edinburgh; a city I fell in love with through books and second-hand accounts long before I knew anything else about Scotland.

It was here that I stayed in my first hostel. The St. Christopher’s Inn just off Waverly Bridge wasn’t much to look at when you first walked in, but to date it’s the nicest hostel I’ve stayed in. Great proximity to the Royal Mile, a friendly staff, great bars below the accommodation, and clean AND comfortable beds – either one a rarity in some hostels.

The great thing about the hostel is the environment. Backpackers are an interesting group, and extraordinarily friendly. Everyone has their own unique stories and journeys they’ve been on, but there seems to be a prevailing mindset of adventure, respect and overall fun with most everyone there, staff included.

To your left is Belushi’s Bar and to your left is Jake’s Place, where they serve a meager breakfast for those of us that manage to wake up on time. Belushi’s has a Wednesday £1 burger and £1 fry special that I’m sure I will always dream about.

Oftentimes hostels offer discounts to local bars, restaurants, tours – extremely handy if you’re traveling on a budget. Most bed prices are around $10 USD a night in a location near the city center. There’s an obvious trade off to these potential perks, but to this day hostels remain one of my favorite ways to meet new people, find new things you’d never think to try before and experience the world as a solo traveller. For better or for worse, I’ve never left a hostel without at least a story and usually an interesting bond through the events.