Traveler’s Journal : Back to Basics : Memories revived, new ones savored on a backpack trip through Europe

I dropped my backpack and climbed into the bottom bunk.

Who cared if I was sharing the room with 17 other women? I was too tired to notice. And the night’s stay cost only $12 for a safe, comfortable bed in Florence, complete with clean bathroom and hot-water shower just down the hall.

When you’re backpacking through Europe, basics become bounty.

At 36, I worried I might be too old to be bunking in youth hostels, living on granola bars and hauling everything I had on my back from city to train to cheap hotel. The last time I did this, I was a 21-year-old student with more time than money and more gumption than sense. But years ago I promised my niece Kim that when she graduated from high school I’d take her to Europe. She did her part, graduating with honors and flipping enough burgers to fund her trip.

It was time for me to ante up.

I bought a new backpack and a sturdy pair of boots and set out last June to discover how much backpacking--and I--have changed in the past 15 years.

Unlike most travelers we met--students with most of the summer at their disposal--we had only two weeks. We flew into Rome and out of Paris, journeying in between by train and sleeping in hostels. We would visit places I had been during my own student travels.

Our 14-day itinerary touched at six cities--Rome, Florence and Venice in Italy; Salzburg, Austria; Munich, Germany, and Paris, plus two days for travel to and from Europe. If that sounds like “If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium” on a budget, it was.

The longest we stayed in a single place was three nights. The least was less than 24 hours.

We started in Rome, a city I hadn’t visited since my first backpacking trip. We toured the Colosseum and the Forum, St. Peter’s Cathedral and the Vatican Museum. We checked out the chic shops around Via Veneto--too expensive for our wallets.

I thought back to my first trip and found I remembered little about the sights in Rome--or anywhere else. Instead, I remembered the friends I’d made and the difficulties of finding trains and places to stay.

The reason: For students of my generation, a trip abroad was more than a visit to famous foreign places. It provided a transition between a world of clearly defined rules and one where guidelines were fuzzy and few. It was the last gasp of freedom before we entered the full-time working world.That, and just about everything else about backpacking, hasn’t changed.

To finance my own student trip, I used a small bequest from my grandmother and savings from a job painting dorm rooms.

Though some of the travelers we met also traveled courtesy of family gifts, others had to earn their way. Australian Gavin Morris, 25, sold all his belongings to raise money for his trip. Another traveler we met had worked throughout college to save travel money.

We knew these things because everywhere we went, we talked with people. Among backpackers this comes easily. We chatted about places we’d been and recommendations on cheap restaurants and hostels. About mistakes in the popular budget guidebook “Let’s Go: Europe.” (There are plenty.) About what had happened at home since we’d last read a newspaper (O.J. was arrested.) And about travel problems. (Ryan Harrington, 23, a Wisconsin law student, had left his address book at a London bank on the first leg of his trip and spent the next two weeks trying to get the bank to fax it to him with no luck. And I temporarily lost my camera, saved only by the good heart of the Venetian candy shop owner who found it outside her store.)

Sometimes the chatter deepened into heart-and-soul searches about families and futures. Such conversations are more than trading tips; they’re a way of feeling closer to home. On trips abroad, I prefer talking to locals and learning about perspectives I can rarely explore at home. But Kim and other student backpackers preferred to flock together, and when I look back at the journal I kept that summer in 1979, I realize I was no different.

Now, as then, the quickest cure for a little homesickness is a visit to Munich’s Hofbrauhaus beer hall, which in summer overflows with college-age Americans. Being in a different country seems strange enough; in places such as the Hofbrauhaus, there’s comfort in people whose language and customs are familiar.

We spent only a few minutes with some of our newfound pals, never exchanging names; with others we shared days. Our closest friends from the trip were Deb Weeks and Chantal King, Aussies traveling until the money ran out, then hoping to earn more in London so they could continue their journey. We met Deb and Chan on the train from Rome to Florence and followed them to a youth hostel. Together we explored the Ponte Vecchio, the Ufizzi Gallery and ice cream shops. Thirty-six hours later, the four of us were headed to Venice.

Our schedule allowed only a day, so we stowed our packs at the train station baggage office and went out to explore the city of canals. And there, we fell into one of those inane experiences we’ll remember the rest of our lives.

Just as we were approaching a gondola, the heavens opened up. We ducked into a doorway, broke open the beer and cheese we’d bought for the trip and sang appropriate songs: “Singin’ in the Rain” and “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head.”

At the station, we parted ways. Deb and Chan headed to Milan, Italy; Kim and I caught the night train to Salzburg. We vowed to meet at noon the next Sunday beneath the Eiffel Tower.

Traveling on the night train is part of the backpacker’s strategy. For Kim and me, taking our longest trips at night was a way to preserve sightseeing hours. But there are other reasons to travel at night. One is that it saves the cost of a hotel room, though a couchette, or bunk, can be nearly as expensive. The other is that one arrives at the destination early in the day and can thus secure a place at the best-located youth hostels.

In Paris, for instance, the popular Jules Ferry hostel was sold out by 8:30 a.m., and we felt lucky to have secured beds for our three-night stay.

Jules Ferry, just minutes from the Place de la Republique, is a particularly good hostel both in terms of location and facilities. The ground floor has a plain but friendly common room with tables and chairs, a soda machine, pay phone and, in the basement, lockers and laundry. The rooms are far smaller than most, built to accommodate four people in two bunk beds, with hanging space and racks for backpacks and sinks. As in most hostels, shower and toilet are down the hall.

Other hostels we’d stayed in also had comfortable facilities. This is not always the case; Deb told us their hostel in Santorini, Greece, had only a communal shower and was BYOTP--Bring Your Own Toilet Paper. I was too old to stay in most of the hostels in Munich, the only place we found an age limit, so we ended up with an expensive double room at a hostel filled with screaming, stereo-blasting German students .

We and other travelers we met did not always stay in hostels; sometimes pensions are just as cheap. But hostels offer two qualities not guaranteed elsewhere: camaraderie with English-speaking youths and a sense of safety. (Many have curfews, and violating the hours will get the tardy traveler tossed out the next day.)

Safety was rarely a concern; we kept our passports and money in pouches around our necks and our day packs close at hand.

One difficulty experienced by nearly every traveling pair is that point at which the nerves begin to fray. Kim and I were not exempt.

We didn’t really know each other and had never spent more than a few days together. I was frustrated; so was she. But we were family, and splitting up was out of the question. So we worked it out, each learning tolerance for the other.

Kim brought me a new perspective, that peculiar mix of joy, awe and awkwardness that comes with the first trip abroad. She reminded me that we didn’t have to see everything; a few sweet moments could be savored more easily.

By the time we got to Paris we were spending long hours over breakfast, talking with other travelers and simply watching the world go by. But there was one appointment we were determined to make. My watch read one minute before noon when we arrived at the round plaza beneath the Eiffel Tower. I grabbed a pain au chocolat; Kim snagged an ice cream and we settled down to wait. We gave it half an hour. Deb and Chan never arrived.

That, too, is part of the backpacker’s journey. We were sorry we wouldn’t see Deb and Chan, but there were plenty of new friends to be made. After all, this was Paris.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

GUIDEBOOK

Seeing Europe on a Budget

Overall costs: As the dollar shifts in the world marketplace, so does the traveler’s buying ability. But even though the dollar’s fall was making headlines while I was abroad last June, the effect on my short trip was modest.

In 1979, I took about $1,000 for spending money for a four-week trip--approximately $35 per day, excluding my Eurailpass and transportation to and from Europe. Today’s student travelers say $40 is the bare minimum. Kim and I averaged around $70 per day because we had budgeted more generously, ate a little better and, in one case, couldn’t get into an inexpensive hostel.

Staying in youth hostels: Most are open to people of all ages, though some have an upper age limit of mid- to late 20s. Usually you get a bunk in a dormitory-style room; some accommodate couples and families.

Hostelling International publishes a directory of its 5,000 member hostels. Though many do not require membership in Hostelling International, some do, and it is best to get a membership card before you leave the United States. The cost is $25, $10 under 18 and $15 over 54. You can join by mail by contacting American Youth Hostels, the U.S. member of Hostelling International, at 733 15th St. N.W., Suite 840, Washington, D.C. 20005; telephone (202) 783-6161.

In summer, especially, it is a good idea to fax or call ahead to make a reservation, even if it’s for the same day. Not all hostels, however, take reservations. You can usually guarantee a space by booking ahead through other hostels in the Hostelling International network.

Other accommodations: Student guidebooks list other inexpensive options, and at just about every train station or airport you’ll find a tourist information booth that can also book budget rooms for a small fee.

Eurailpasses: Though it is sometimes possible to buy them in Europe, it’s best to be certain and buy before you leave the United States. A one-month adult pass, good in first or second class, costs $798; a youth pass for those under 25 is good only in second class and costs $578. Those on a budget can now purchase a Flexipass, which allows a specified number of days of travel within a longer period. For instance, my Flexipass allowed any five days of travel within a two-month period. It cost $348 and allowed me to ride first class; Kim’s youth pass for the same travel cost $255 and allowed only for second-class accommodations.

What to bring: When you’re moving around a lot, backpacks are the ideal luggage. Be sure the pack has a sturdy waist strap so you can carry the weight on your hips and thighs.