Hello there, wanderer!

It'll be dark soon, I thought, looking at the time. I was wrong, but had no way of knowing.
I looked at the map again and crossed the street as the man turned green. In the distance I saw the Hostel I was looking for, sighed in relief and walked there. I wasn't used to my backpack yet, and the shoulders began to ache.
But they were no beds available. I had come at a difficult time, the girl at the front desk explained, for it was la Fête de la Musique that weekend, and everything had been already booked for weeks. Yet nothing could daunt my spirit! Instead, I asked if there were any other cheap hostels nearby. I had no idea where I was, but I had a map, so I could go anywhere.
“Can I ask you something?” The girl said. And after a moment she added: “...are you high?”
What? That was unexpected. “No! Why?” I replied.
“Well,” she started to explain. “It's getting late, it's Friday in Paris, and you don't have a place to sleep. And yet, you just won't stop smiling!”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror behind her. Indeed, a pair of tired eyes and an unmatching, impossibly wide grin stared back at me.
“But why would I stop smiling?” I asked her back. “I'm in Paris!” Just stepped out of the airplane, this was my first stop in Europe. No plans, only dots on the map, some phone numbers and the names of a few towns in Spain.
Three hostels later I had a place to sleep. The second night was more difficult, having to wait until 2am, when they could sell any unclaimed beds. For the third night though, I didn't even bother. Just left my things in the storage room and wandered the streets alone.
It was the longest day in the year; there were blue skies almost till midnight. All my senses were on fire. Music greeted me in every corner! I found tourists and travellers, and even some Parisians too, eager to share a glass of beer and hear my adventures. But I didn't have any yet. The night—and the journey—had just begun.
When the streets quieted down, but before the Sun shone it's light, I found myself alone. What do you do when alone at night in Paris? I asked myself, and from somewhere inside I heard a voice reply: Well you walk along the Seine, of course! Thus, the day found me in a circle of drums, surrounded by young artists, some of whom remain my friends even today.
At some point I got my things back and hopped on a train bound for Spain. Not too far, just to the border, to the Basque Country. No plans, no bookings, open and ready for anything. I slept all the way.