Photo by Christian Lue on Unsplash.

In the weeks leading up to my interrail journey, I was apprehensive. My friend and I decided to take a leap of faith and go by ourselves to minimise drama, much to the shock of everyone around us. Everyone was concerned for our well-being: friends were worried I’d get trafficked, parents stressed over the possibility of my passport being stolen, and we panicked about how likely it would be that our roommates would be middle aged men thanks to various TikToks. And I suppose everyone’s fears were somewhat validated by Katie’s and I’s tendency to get ourselves into stupid situations. All of my friends knew Katie, regardless of having met her or not, due to the fact that every interesting story I have, she’s a part of.

 

So as we opened the door to our first hostel dorm in Amsterdam, we couldn’t believe it when we saw Harry.* After making the conscious decision to ban myself from men with piercings, mullets, rings, a love for the Fontaines D.C, and clothes that made them look like they’ve come straight from Pinterest, I sighed to myself as Harry fit nearly every one of these categories, and also had an irresistible English accent. It all was too much to handle. The breaking point for me was the fact that when I told him I study English literature, he didn’t laugh or ask me if I wanted to be a teacher, but rather looked at me in awe and told me how he always wanted to study that too. It was at that exact moment I decided to close myself off from this fashion design graduate. He was utterly unattainable and was sure to make my trip end in tears. Yet the more I got talking to Harry, the more apparent it was that my plan to ignore him was going to fail. He wooed us with stories of his celebrity friends and London life but most important were the anecdotes about himself. There seemed to be some mutual understanding between ourselves that we could talk about our life experiences, and I found myself telling this man about things I’ve never told people before. Yet we parted ways after Berlin, expecting to never see each other again. Until one magical day we realised we were in Prague at the same time, and it was in that beautiful city our friendship progressed into something more. 

 

I could have kicked myself as I realised the only thing preventing this from happening sooner was my own stupidity. By placing Harry on this pedestal and viewing him as unattainable, I decided that the role I played in his life would be platonic before he even had a say in the matter. I reflected on how I often pushed roles not only on myself in relationships, but also on other people. After my first heartbreak, I convinced myself that it had to have happened for a reason: I was about to meet someone ten times better. This resulted in me thinking that everyone I met in the following months was the love of my life, and getting frustrated when things unsurprisingly didn’t work out. I think it’s human nature to analyse relationships and convince ourselves of some deeper meaning, and yet, while writing this article, the whole concept felt narcissistic. While it’s important to reflect on past experiences, I also think it can be harmful to believe that everyone comes into your life to teach you a lesson because it dehumanises those involved. Rather than viewing ex friends or partners as lessons, it’s important to remember that they are their own beings too— whose lives are just as complicated as your own.

 

I will most likely never see Harry again , despite our drunken promises that he will visit me on my Erasmus. In fact, Katie and I are both waiting for the day he unfollows us as he grows his Instagram followers into the 10,000s. While our society tends to define relationships by time, I think the joy of interrailing is the lack of it. I met Harry, and all of the other friends we made on this trip at their best and vice versa. While some of the memories of my school friendships have been tarnished by forcing each other to stay mates rather than admit we were no longer compatible, the beauty of interrailing is you never get to that stage. Some relationships just aren’t meant to stand the test of time, and interrailing has made me realise that that doesn’t make them any less valuable. 

 

Yet some people stay in our lives no matter the circumstances, and it’s safe to say that person for me is Katie. Having met her when I was twelve, the earliest memory I have of our friendship is hysterical laughing at our teacher falling over a bin during class. And as we laughed deeply hungover in Budapest over a boy tripping over a step at the Fisherman’s Wharf, I relished in the fact that some things never do change.

 

*I may be unhinged enough to publish intimate details about my life in a student publication, but I’m not unhinged to the point where I included real names. Future lovers fear not!