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I’ve slept outside innumerable times, most of them in Europe. I’ve slept on park benches, outdoor train stations, sitting on my backpack in the area where trains adjoin, many, many beaches (a lot of them rocky, unfortunately, and one night through the most intense thunderstorm I’ve ever seen), below a beach home on stilts in Italy (was driven out by a huge, growling man with a bat), in a sandbox in switzerland (woke up at 5 AM to a group of shady-looking men tossing duffel bags into the lake), creepy parks, a grassy area in Pamplona during San Fermin amid many wine-covered drunks….

The strangest outdoor sleeping experience I’ve ever had, though, was in Paris. At the naive age of 17, I arrived with my high school boyfriend at 7 pm by chunnel, deposited into a much shadier version of Paris than I had imagined. I was armed with decent French, but that was about it. Had no plan whatsoever. Not much money. All rooms in our price range were full. We decided to sleep in a park. As we lay down, we began to realize, from the looks of passersby, that we were in the red light district. Exhausted, we resigned to it, and cuddled up behind a tree when all of the sudden we heard something: moaning.

A woman was giving a man a blow job against the tree in a front of us. We both froze, trying to stay as still and quiet as possible. After a couple minutes, we saw another man approaching, heard his pants drop, and then a female shriek. The onlooker (who I believe was homeless) was um, well, pleasuring himself. The woman flipped! The man took off, and she threw her heels and went after him. She wrestled him to the ground and just clobbered him over and over with her purse.

Now we were really trying to remain invisible.

Of course, we didn’t for long. On her way back to the tree, the woman spotted us. So, we got what was coming – at first. She came behind the tree and started screaming at us, her skirt hitched up, her heavy makeup running down her face, her hair teased and tangled. She was incredibly drunk. Thank god that I had paid attention in french class. I managed to calm her down and explain our predicament. So, naturally, she transitioned from anger to hysterical tears, and brought out her liquor bottle, willing us to share with her.

We somehow politely declined and ended up spending the night awake on a stairwell, accompanied by a stray cat. It was a lovely introduction to Paris.

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I once got into Auckland around 1 am and wasn’t sure if my friend would be arriving or not, so I waited for him. I also coulnd’t call him, so I was very nervous of having to travel around NZ on my own, since all the trips, cars and hostels were booked under his name and credit card.

Fortunately they have a Samsung station at the airport, with free internet. So I got in touch with my brother via IM and told him to call him in Australia and find out what the deal was. After finding out that my friend would be getting in around noon the next day, I stretched out on the 4-seat benches, which were quite comfortable and had a good sleep. There also was a Mc Donalds and clean toilets and I felt really safe. All in all I quite enjoyed having all that time to sleep, read, and listen to my iPod.

What wasn’t too much fun was spending a night at the Central Staion in Sydney. While it is quite safe with security patrolling the station, it was really cold. There is no sheltered area to sleep or wait and it is completely open and windy. On top of that the seats of the benches are seperated with arm rests which makes it impossible to sleep. The stone floor was far too cold to sleep on and even with sleeping bags we were freezing.

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I have had the good fortune of sleeping on the street 4 times!
once in a park in Sicily (moderately scary)
once behind a building in the Greek Isles (scary)
once on a bench in Amalfi, Italy (cold, somehow fun)
and in a bush in Switzerland.

of course countless airports and bus stations… makes for good stories!

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