This Guy Loves To Party

I’ve spotted them in every country I’ve been in.

Kicking around their hacky-sack, dancing mindlessly to any live music that might be playing, devouring weed in public parks, braiding their unwashed hair.

It was the same group of hippies.  They followed me from home, and now were everywhere I went.

OK, I admit I’m not retarded enough to think that.  But a surprisingly comforting feeling has come from the realization that — no matter where you are, or what the societal norms are — all hippies are the same, everywhere.

Of course, there’s a wonderful irony in the idea that, worldwide, the people who go out of their way to be different and break the status quo are, in fact, all exactly the same.  But it’s true.

I haven’t suffered from home sickness really at all in my trip, and I credit a lot of that to the universality of hippies.  It’s a great feeling to be able to walk down to just about any big city’s local park and see basically the exact same people I’d see in my home town’s park.

And, usually, they’re all really nice people, even if they don’t speak your native language.  So if you’re both lonely and home sick, you kill two birds with one stone.

Have a bad case of home sickness?  Go on a hunt for some hippies.  They’ll transport you right back home — if not for just one night.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 15th, 2009 at 12:00 pm and is filed under Misc, Traveling.