Travel Book Extract

Catalyst For Adventure:

The True Story of Best Friends Travelling Through Europe

After a day of travel, we were in Switzerland. While departing our train, one of the straps on my backpack tore right off, forcing me to carry it all on one shoulder, all the way to the town of Gimmewald.

 Perhaps you have never heard of Gimmewald. Don't feel stupid. This little alpine town has a population of 139 (or 138 depending if Hans died last year as suspected). To get to Gimmewald we had to take two trains, a bus, a cable car, and then a van. The little village had been there for ages and I couldn’t understand how people lived so far removed from civilization. The citizens of Gimmewald had to make special arrangements with the sole commuter van in town, just to go buy groceries. Trips up and down the mountain were precious and the van was packed beyond maximum capacity. We rode along a steep ravine with eight adults, four kids, and I think a goat or two. Every muscle in my body tightened, fearing that we’d roll off of the mountain and I could only hope that all of the passengers piled on top of one another were not distracting the driver. 

 We arrived at our youth hostel to find Greta, the manager, cursing at a broken computer in German. The Swiss were sort of like Germans, only quirkier. They resembled Jim Henson characters, with mismatched hair and googly eyes. When Greta took a sick day, I imagined that Fozzy Bear or Miss Piggy might take her place. Everything in the hostel world was done under the table. Instead of job interviews, hostel owners would solicit honest-looking travelers to work in exchange for free lodging. That interested me enough, but in the end I knew that traveling around was more worthwhile than a free stay.

 Almost immediately Summer and I met Matt and Steve. Matt was a Polish-American from Chicago, who repeated the same jokes to anyone just entering the hostel. He also happed to go to the same high school as my cousins. Steve was an ex-football player from Portland, and he knew a lot of jocks that went to my high school. 

 “Do you know my cousin? She was in the color guard at your high school.” I asked Matt.

 “What year?” He asked.

 “1998.” I said.

 “Too young,” he responded.

 “Well, do you know Joe Smith?” Steve asked me. “He played football at your school freshman year.”

 “Yeah, I think I remember that guy.” I said, “What about his friend, you know, the one with the dark hair?”

 “Oh, that guy,” Steve said, “I was in a special league with him.”

 We traveled to such a remote place in the world only to spend thirty minutes playing the “do you know so and so” game. Unbelievable.

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