The Night I Met the Colombians
After spending the whole day wandering Amsterdam’s maze of canals, my first solo trip was starting to feel exhausting—not just physically, but mentally too. I returned to my Amsterdam hostel, hoping to find some energy, but the noise of the common area was almost too much. People were everywhere: playing cards, swapping stories, laughing loudly, and sharing beers. It seemed like everyone had found their group. And there I was, a solo traveler lying on my bunk bed, reading the same line of a comic over and over.
I wanted to join in. But the thought of walking into a conversation, letting out a garbled sentence in broken English, and being met with blank stares? It was terrifying. My social anxiety was peaking. My mind kept racing with “what ifs.”
- What if they didn’t understand me?
- What if they just nodded politely and then ignored me?
- What if I ended up standing there like a fool?
Still, I couldn’t just stay there. I got up and walked into the living room, pretending to be occupied with my phone. I sat on the couch, scrolling through nothing, sneaking glances at a group of guys laughing loudly. They were speaking in rapid-fire Spanish.
I told myself, Just go over there. Say something. You’re Brazilian; you can fake your way through Spanish, right?
But the weight of self-doubt was crushing. My stomach churned. The fear of rejection was too much. My mind kept spiraling, but then, I had one clear thought: If you don’t go now, you’ll regret it. Fuck it. Just go.
So I did. I took a deep breath, walked over, and forced myself to say something.
Making the Leap
“Hola, soy de Brasil,” I blurted out. “¿Puedo sentarme?”
The group paused. My face felt like it was on fire. But then, one of them smiled, raised his beer, and said, “¡Claro, amigo! Siéntate, siéntate.”
And just like that, I was in. They asked me questions about Brazil, told me stories about Colombia, and, before I knew it, we were laughing like old friends. Carlos, Andres, and Miguel. Their warmth felt like a lifeline. After days of feeling like an outsider while traveling, I finally felt like I belonged.
I realized something important: the fear of rejection is real, but the regret of not trying? That’s so much worse.
Finding Common Ground in a Foreign City
The Colombians were slightly older than me, and definitely drunker, but they were incredibly friendly. As a Brazilian, I couldn’t say I spoke fluent Spanish, but our languages shared enough similarities for us to understand each other. Between my Portuguese, their Spanish, and a dash of Google Translate, we were laughing and sharing stories in no time.
It turned out they were also traveling on a shoestring budget. Their English was better than mine, which proved invaluable in navigating Amsterdam. We quickly bonded over our shared struggles: being young, broke, and eager to squeeze as much joy out of life as possible. That night, we became partners in adventure.
A Budget Adventure: Trying to See Amsterdam for Cheap
Together, we brainstormed ways to enjoy Amsterdam without breaking the bank. At the hostel reception, we asked the staff for recommendations. The receptionist chuckled and said, “In Amsterdam, you can have fun with expensive drinks or drink cheap beer and skip the fun. You can’t have both.”
Undeterred, we scoured Google, Facebook events, and even Tinder, searching for free or affordable activities. Nothing panned out. Feeling defeated, we ended up wandering the streets, eating McDonald’s, and sharing a bottle of cheap vodka. It wasn’t glamorous, but we made it fun.
A New Day and New Challenges
The next morning, my social energy was depleted. I left the hostel early and headed to a local market. Navigating it was an adventure—every label was in Dutch, and I accidentally bought sparkling water instead of still water for the fourth time. Small victories: I learned that returning empty bottles earned you a few cents.
With my market haul, I found a quiet park and sat on the grass. As I ate, I started searching Facebook for Brazilian or Latino events in Amsterdam. To my delight, I found a Latino cultural event happening the following weekend. It was the perfect opportunity to meet more people.
The Latino Event: A Rollercoaster of Emotions
When Saturday arrived, I was bursting with excitement. The weather was perfect—sunny and warm—and I couldn’t wait to connect with people from similar backgrounds. But when I got to the event venue, I realized I had arrived way too early. Vendors were still setting up, and the place was eerily quiet. I felt awkward and out of place.
To kill time, I wandered around the area, but it was far from the city center, and there wasn’t much to see. My nerves got the best of me, and doubts began to creep in. What if no one talks to me? What if I just stand around like an idiot? By the time the event finally opened, my excitement had turned into anxiety.
A Spiral of Bad Decisions
I decided I needed something to take the edge off, so I bought a whiskey and mixed it with an energy drink. Bad idea. The warm weather, combined with my nerves and the strong drink, hit me hard. My heart raced and my head pounded. I retreated to a quieter corner.
That’s when I saw a group of people smoking and laughing. They were speaking Portuguese. Brazilians in Amsterdam!
A Chance Encounter
Summoning my last bit of energy, I approached them and asked for a cigarette, joking, “I’m already dying; might as well make it worse.” They laughed, and just like that, I was in again.
We talked for hours. They shared their stories about living in Amsterdam, and one of them mentioned that during the summer, farms across the Netherlands needed volunteers. In exchange for help, volunteers received free accommodation and meals. It was the perfect opportunity for someone like me—broke and looking for a new adventure.
A New Beginning
By the end of the night, I had a lead on a farm that might take me on—a chance for volunteer work in the Netherlands.
What started as a lonely evening in a hostel had turned into a series of unexpected connections. Every awkward step brought me closer to finding my place in a foreign land.
In the next chapter, I’ll share how working on the farm introduced me to one of my closest friends and a way of life I never imagined. But for now, I’ll leave you with this: sometimes, the best stories come from the most uncomfortable moments.
