A Journey to Meran: Discovering Beauty and Friendship
Meran, also known as Merano in Italian, was not originally my destination. After applying for a conference in Bolzano, I posted a brief message on Couchsurfing about my upcoming trip. I received a long, polite message from someone named H, who lived in a nearby village called Meran. He described it as a beautiful and special place, offering to show me around when I arrived. After looking it up, I found it truly lovely and decided to include it in my travel itinerary.
From that day on, H and I exchanged short messages daily. His greetings, like 'Good morning, have a nice day,' accompanied by scenic photos from his hikes, gave me a somewhat nerdy image of him.
When I finally met him, he was tall, around 180 cm, with deep eyes, a prominent nose, and a bushy beard—definitely not the nerdy type I had imagined. However, his demeanor and speech were as gentle and warm as in our messages.
The next day was Saturday, and we spent the entire day together. We started with a morning walk around the town center, where snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance, surrounded by hills. Despite the chilly weather, seeing the mountains in early November was remarkable. H pointed out some peaks, mentioning their heights in meters, while we strolled past a small stream, churches, and shops. The town was so small that we bumped into his mother, saw his father cycling, and met friends, all greeting us with 'Guten Morgen' and engaging in light small talk. H expressed sadness about the fading local traditions, lamenting how the area had become too tourist-oriented.
As we walked along the stream, H explained that this region is South Tyrol, originally part of Austria. When it became part of Italy, an agreement was made to preserve the local language, a German dialect called Tyrolean. Thus, the town bears both the original name Meran and the Italian name Merano.
After lunch, we went for a light hike, adjusting the difficulty to accommodate my knee issues. We aimed to visit two castles located on the mountainside. As we walked, H pointed out a wedding procession, which I couldn't hear but he noticed from the honking cars. It’s a cultural tradition for cars to honk as they pass by on the wedding day.
We also discussed local customs, such as friends waking someone up loudly on milestone birthdays. H mentioned how he had recently experienced this at dawn. It felt like a charming tradition that would be impossible in a big city.
After reaching the first castle, we walked along a flat path at a higher elevation. The houses in the village appeared smaller, overshadowed by the massive mountains. The distant sounds of goats and chickens added to the serene atmosphere. I was captivated by the ever-changing beauty of nature, feeling that no photo could capture its essence fully. I wondered why I had only planned to stay for two nights; I wished I could settle down there.
We shared stories about our lives, discussing our aspirations and views on relationships. I found it amusing when H reacted to the Korean dating culture, where one person must confess to start a relationship. In Italy, relationships often develop naturally without formal confessions.
As we descended, the sun began to set. H reminded me that the supermarket closed at 7 PM, unlike the 9 PM closing time in bigger cities. I asked if it was inconvenient, and he replied, 'Not at all. Why should they always be open? They need rest too. I just plan ahead.'
H drove me to Bolzano the next day, choosing a scenic winding mountain road instead of the highway. The views were breathtaking, but time was tight. We arrived at the station just ten minutes before my train departed. I was incredibly grateful for his hospitality and friendship. Even after my trip, he continued to check in on me, and we still stay in touch. The stunning scenery was made even better by the wonderful friend I made along the way.
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