The first trip | Press

I think it was the date rape drug. I had only drunk one shoot, I couldn’t be so drunk. The last image I remember is of me on all fours on the bar floor and my friend Denise bending down to ask me what I’m doing. “I pick flowers. “

I was 20 when I made my first trip. A full backpack, three weeks, Europe, a precious friend and a line of credit (don’t make that mistake). I still remember today the clothes I left with. No detail had been left to chance. I expected this crossing of the ocean as one hopes for a new life.

Normal, the first trip is a well-established rite of passage.

For Jacques Hamel, sociologist specializing in youth, it is a bridge to adult life. It embodies the separation from the family home and the plunge into autonomy. Especially nowadays, he explains to me: “In the 1960s, many young people left thanks to the Franco-Quebecois youth offices, which offered group trips. The big change that has taken place since then is individualization. Young people today have the will to create themselves. They no longer want to trust organizations, but rather take a journey that will be like them. They want a personal adventure, complete freedom … All the while knowing that they will not be alone! Thanks to the web, they can target places where they will find people like them, anywhere in the world. ”

My friend Denise and I went through a number of online forums to find the ideal hostels before leaving. The one who, in Paris, hid jazz shows in the basement. The one which, in Nice, offered free bubbles every Wednesday. The one that, in Barcelona, ​​was nestled in the heart of the action …

“We choose our youth hostel to meet the community to which we want to belong,” says Jacques Hamel. No matter how much we set off with a desire for individualization, we know that we are going to join people who share our concept of travel. We therefore consciously fly to new relationships. ”

In fact, from our first evening in Barcelona, ​​a clan was created. Around the counter of a community kitchen, a Swede, a Canadian from the West, an Italian and two Quebeckers fell in friendship. We didn’t know each other’s values, doubts and dreams, but we knew we would be there for each other. An unspoken promise.

Moreover, it is these new friends who would pick me up, five days after our meeting, while I “would pick flowers”, slumped on a wooden floor …

* * *

“I have heard many young people say that abroad, they are not afraid. That they feel safe because they are with other young people and a solidarity unites them… As if, by sharing the same adventure, they were naturally benevolent towards the group. “Sociologist Jacques Hamel, who teaches at the University of Montreal, puts his finger on the miracle that happened that evening in June …

A guy arrived at the youth hostel. A new. When my group of friends and I got ready to go out, he asked us where we were going. We obviously invited him to the bar we hoped to enter. We didn’t know him, but if he had chosen this hostel, it was because he was one of us …

As a thank you, he offered a shoot to the whole group, as soon as we have been able to enter the establishment. a shoot of blue liquor that the waitress has set ablaze. I remember the awesome scene, the heat in my throat, the solid wood countertop. From me on all fours on the ground. From Denise, who bends over, perplexed.

I don’t remember when I was put in the taxi. On the other hand, I saw photos. My friends hold me by the arms and legs for me swinger in the vehicle. My body is too soft. Looks like I’m smiling …

I like to believe that at that point, I’m fine, despite everything.

* * *

The next day, I woke up with a handful of worried faces leaning over me. I was watched over.

” What is happening ? “

I was told that I had vomited about ten times during the night. Our Italian girlfriend too. We must have had food poisoning… or drank something fishy.

“Besides, it is correct, the guy who gave us the shooters ?

– He never came back to sleep at the hostel… ”

I don’t know if this man had ever really intended to stay under the same roof as us. Maybe at the time, we were trying to take advantage of female travelers by innocently infiltrating their youth hostel … Maybe also that I caught an incredible virus, that I got intoxicated by mistake or that I drank a liquor completely incompatible with my metabolism. The odds are slim, but who knows?

On the other hand, what I’m sure is that this first trip taught me that I can trust young strangers. That there are humans who, in a second, decide that no one is going to hurt us. That thanks to them, even the most ugly man has not marred everything that a first trip is so beautiful.

That the richness of the getaway is to be able to rest against the other.