Do you know how tired you have to be to check in to your hostel in a brand new and exciting city, and go right to sleep?

This is hostelling.

You provide your documents, collect your keys, grab your free map, and walk up the steps to your room (which is not guaranteed to be the same as your travel partner — even if you booked together). You open the door and glance around, only to find that the room is empty. But several of the beds are not perfectly made, some even have a few belongings strewn about, and you try to make your deductions about who these people are, where they are from, and what type of experience this hostel is going to be.

But you’ve made it, and you’re so tired, so you drop your backpack on the floor and sift through the top to find your lock, open your under-bed storage bin, and pack in everything you’ve been carrying as best as you can. You change out of your travel clothes with the bathroom door cracked, or sometimes right in the middle of the room, and you crawl into your clean, but not necessarily comfortable, bunk.

Staring at the ceiling with your heart racing and your feet throbbing, in this unfamiliar place, you’re so tired that you’re able to sleep as soon as you close your eyes. You’re able to sleep knowing that when you wake up again you most likely won’t be alone anymore. And you don’t know who will be joining you. Or what they are like, or where they are from, or what type of experience this hostel is going to be.

But this is hostelling, and thankfully so.

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We spent a lot of time in our room in Paris (considering we were in Paris) mainly because we felt sick and were a bit overwhelmed to venture out. The day we arrived, we were that tired that we fell asleep in an empty hostel and woke up to find strangers had entered and exited, also fallen asleep, had probably stared at our belongings or ourselves wondering who we were, where we were from, etc.

But we were extremely fortunate that our roommates not only helped to get us out of our rut but also to believe in joie de vivre.

Rafael was our first friend in Paris. He was outgoing and in love with the City of Light. His experience in Paris was far better than ours, but he did not let it only affect him. He was a lawyer back home in Brazil and must have been a good one at that. His enthusiasm and love for the art and culture in Paris persuaded us to keep giving it a chance. He described his experience visiting the Mona Lisa and made me feel the way he did standing in front of her. To be honest, he was the sole reason we went to the Louvre at all (we were going to skip it for the sake of our budget, but I’m so glad we didn’t). Rafael was warm and comforting. He was like a family-friend to us, in a very unfamiliar and unfriendly place.

“Can we to take a picture?”

I hesitated. This was the most we heard from our Malaysian friend, Yong, who up until this point didn’t have me convinced he spoke English.

We agreed to all take a photo together, Rafael included, though it seemed an unexpected request. It was our last night in Paris and we owed it to our roommates that we got any enjoyment out of our stay– especially considering the way it started. It was the least we could do.

But then as we all crawled back into our bunks, Yong went on to explain why he asked to take the photo. “My father is so worried. I wanted to prove to him that I’m meeting nice people and that I’m safe.”

This hit me at my core.

And not that I didn’t believe this already, but it was then that I understood a bit deeper just how much we are all the same. Because every day we texted our parents to let them know how we were doing, who we were meeting, and that we were safe.

And it was so comforting to feel and accept that two Americans, a Brazilian, and a Malaysian were all in Paris meeting nice people and feeling safe.

So what is hostelling really like?

It’s agreeing to take a photo with two “strangers.” It’s having these strangers convince you to keep going, to see the beauty in everything, and experience joie de vivre for yourself. It’s gaining a deeper understanding that no matter how scary some experiences can be or seem to be, they are worth taking. It’s keeping in touch even after only knowing each other for 3 days, 8 months ago. It’s knowing that there is far more greatness out in the unknown, than what our parents worry about. And it’s feeling comfortable enough to sleep in an empty room, knowing that when you wake it will no longer be empty, but filled with strangers just like you.