Edward Norton called them "Single-serving friends"

One of the best things about travelling alone is that I tend to get a bit more bold than I normally would in chatting it up with random strangers. To be fair, in most cases, this means other (North) Americans who, as soon as I overhear them speak, I know I likely have more in common with me than most of the other folks around.

"So where are you from?" is a very easy ice breaker, and led to many pleasant conversations of varying lengths. At tourist sites, in restaurants, on trains... single folk, couples, families, groups of friends... Anytime there were Americans (or an occasional Canadian) nearby and a convenient moment broke where I felt I wouldn't be intruding too much, I'd pop that question and see where it led.

Occasionally it was close to home... A woman on Murano (another outlying Venetian island) asked me for directions, as she was trying to find the shortest path for her elderly parents to the nearest vaporetti stop. They lived in New Orleans, but were originally from the Kalamazoo area. Her parents were both MSU grads, so we exchanged friendly barbs while chatting.

Of course a few days earlier, as I mentioned before, I had run into a family with a college-aged kid wearing a Michigan hat and an Ashley's T-Shirt, who, it turned out, had been born in Port Huron. I'd also exchanged a "GO BLUE" with a guy in the Rome train station who was double-decking (hat and shirt) his Maize and Blue pride.

My first night in Rome, I ate at Pizzeria Da Baffeto, which was highly recommended by the guidebooks and a few acquaintances. Though the place was half empty, they directed me to the one empty seat at a table already seating three. 'Awkward', I thought at first, but I got to chatting with my table-mates--a couple from North Carolina, and a fellow from Ireland (who is currently doing more or less what I'm doing, but living in Turkey.). It much was better than dining alone. (And, for the record, by the time we were done, the place was packed!)

Often, it'd seem the places of origin would tend to clump up. The first day a family from Colorado was trekking down from the Dome of St. Peters right behind me (the couple in front of me were from Wisconsin, btw). On the bus on the way back to the hotel that night, I got chatting with Jen and Jenna, who were also from Colorado. The next day was "Portland Day"--a couple about my age that was on my tour group for the Colosseum and Palatine, and a middle-aged man who was the only other patron in the restaurant I had dinner in that night were all from Portland.

There was another couple also staying at the same hotel who I was on the shuttle bus with the second night coming back and the third morning going out. They were originally from California, but he was in the Air Force and had been stationed in Italy for a while. This was their last chance to tour around the country before he was heading back to the States. Very pleasant folks, and they helped to ease my concern about my upcoming rookie experience with European rail travel.

In Florence, there was an older couple dining near me who had strayed from the flock of their organized tour group for the evening. They turned out to be from Barrington (a Chicago suburb and home of one of my co-workers).

One of the best meal-time cross-table conversation was at lunch on my last day in Venice with four girls (two from Arizona, one from Pennsylvania and the fourth from Australia) who are studying in Glasgow right now. We chatted for quite some time while waiting for our slow (even by Italian standards) waiter. I asked them for ideas for my trip to Scotland next month, and offered them a few suggestions around Venice, as they were just getting in and I was at the end of my stint there.

And then there were the lengthy train rides. Eight hours from Florence to Munich and another eight back down to Venice. The trip to Venice was an overnight, so we spent more time sleeping (or trying anyways) than chatting, but one guy was a young French-Canadian who is living in Dublin for a year and travelling around in his spare time (by the way, he could be Tom Brady's stunt double) and the other was an Indian fellow who was studying in Munich while his wife was studying in Trieste (near Venice). They apparently enjoy many brief weekends together in Venice.

Now the train ride up to Munich, however, in addition to being through stunningly beautiful terrain, was also the seed for probably my most interesting acquaintances, and my only really extended conversations with non-American/Canadians.

For the better part of the trip, my compartment consisted of three people: Myself, Martina, and Franco. Franco was from southern Italy and was heading up to Munich to work for a few months. He knew a little German, but his English was only slightly better than my Italian. Fortunately, there was Martina, an Austrian who was heading home on a break from her study abroad program in Italy. Martina was fluent in both English and Italian, in addition to her native German. She engaged both Franco and I in various conversations, and helped to facilitate a few conversations among all three of us, including a fun one about politics and US foreign policy. (for the record, as long as you convey a dislike of Bush, it seems you'll have no problems.)

Through Martina's interpretations I got that Franco also did not have a room arranged in Munich for that night, and wanted to know if I wanted find a hotel with him. The details of the exact arrangement he had in mind were somewhat fuzzy in translation, so I stayed fairly non-committal about it. He seemed like a nice and decent enough guy, and to tell the truth, I was thinking it'd be nice to have a travelling companion for a bit, but at the same time, extra caution was running through my mind.

Well, it was fun talking with the both of them, but Martina got off in Innsbruck, leaving Franco and I to attempt to communicate in a combination of select English, Italian, German and hand gestures.

He managed to re-iterate his interest in sticking together in Munich to find a room. When we got off the train, he'd apparently been there before, so I somewhat hesitantly followed his lead, though I was prepared to scoot out the instant anything looked too suspicious.

Well, as it turned out, he led me into the worst experience of the entire trip, but it was completely none of his fault! Yes, it was he who found us the hostel, and when we got there and got checked in, I was feeling pretty good about the whole situation. We dropped off our bags and then headed into town to grab some food and a beer together.

The table conversation was only minimally better than dining alone, but at least it was an improvement. He conveyed an interest in walking around and seeing the town together the next day, and I once again stayed agreeable, but non-committal.

After that, we walked around town a bit before heading back to the hostel. I peeled off then to find a net cafe and met him back in the bar at the hostel a while later. He took off early from that, presumably to go to bed, but when I headed into the dorm an hour or so later, he wasn't in his bunk, so lord only knows what he was up to.

Well, what happened next has been covered already. When I woke in the morning I lied there contemplating my next steps. I'd just been through one of the most miserable nights I'd known and was faced with two choices: get up quietly and ditch my new friend to wander around town all by my lonesome once again, or try and rouse him as well and convey a mutual interest in hanging out and seeing the sights together.

It's a tough call, whether it's more enjoyable to spend time alone (when I'd already been spending a large amount of time alone) or with someone I didn't really know and furthermore, have little ability to communicate with. On the one hand, new friendships, particularly those born out of such strange circumstances, can be some of the most interesting and entertaining, aside from the simple fact that company is always welcome to a lonely traveller. But, at the same time, I knew I wouldn't be able to let my guard down and really relax, and going on such little sleep as I was due to the night before, I reluctantly opted to enjoy and appreciate the time we'd spent hanging out the day before, but to move on alone.

I did cross paths with Franco in the morning as I was gathering my stuff from the locker and indicated I was going out to find a new room. Whether he understood that, or knew that we wouldn't be seeing each other again, I don't know.

My last exchange started with a young woman as we were waiting for our flight back to Shannon. She was another Portland-area native, but she and her husband were living in Limerick. As we got chatting, I found out that her husband was an uilleann piper, who'd been taught by the fine Chicago piper Kieran O'Hare, and he knew many of the Chicago-area trad scene people, as well as Seamus and Marie, the owners of my house.

Such random coincidences, particularly when the joining circle is the community of traditional Irish musicians, is becoming such a common place that its hardly surprising anymore, yet always still amusing. Regardless, they were both very nice folks, and for the record, Eliot is a fairly accomplished piper in his own right.

So many conversations, so many different perspectives and backgrounds, and yet all with one common interest--to see and enjoy the world that we live in. It was very rare that folks weren't willing and happy to engage in some quick banter, and it was also a great way to exchange tips and suggestions on the areas we were in and going to. Many of the conversations were brief, with a lot of them never even progressing to exchanging names. Yet in a few cases where the conversations were a bit longer and richer, I'd jot down my email and this blog address and pass it along. You never know.

Already as of yesterday, I've already heard from two of my new acquaintances, so who knows... maybe some of these "single-serving" friendships will find themselves crossing paths again someday for a second or even third course.


I am Jack's tired typing fingers.