Solo Travel: A Love Letter To The Art of Going Alone
“Auitarla” It means help her.
It was the first word I heard in Italy. lying splat on the ground, luggage strewn around me, half crying half laughing. I didn’t notice the exit gap on the train platform, hence the fall. I must have looked like that deer that slides on ice, confused and messy. I was exhausted from the planes, trains and automobiles it took reach Italy from NY. And no, I wasn’t hurt – I was exhilarated. I had arrived. I was alone. Alone on purpose with every intention to see and do whatever me, myself and I wanted. No set plan, no deadlines to meet except the big bowl of pasta I was after.
That exact moment of the fall in Italy which might have mortified me in the past, sealed itself away in a little cocoon in my brain like a tiny envelope. A memory which I could pull out anytime I need a laugh or a reminder of the courage it takes to solo travel.
Memories are a powerhouse of emotions and solo travel is packed with them. The good ones enrich us. The negative ones show us our personalities, teaching us our likes and dislikes. A writer once told me I should journal all of my “That Time Whens”. He said I would want to look back on them one day.
I travel solo because it’s something I need to do -
like breathing
That time when in Botswana, an elephant trudged right up to my tent. It felt like she was intent on making eye contact with me. Through her long eyelashes, we stared at each other for a minute frozen in time. I remember feeling connected to something greater than me in those few seconds. Just her and I, having a moment to ourselves. Another sealed envelope.
That time when in Australia, I flew over the heart of the Barrier Reef, Looking out the window of the small plane in utter amazement., giving me a much deeper appreciation for our planet.
That time when in Rome, I rounded a corner and saw the Coliseum for the first time. My knees went weak. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The size of it took my breath away. This had me wondering about ancient history and who walked these same cobblestones as I?
That time when in Bali, a notice was slipped under my door saying today was a national holiday. It was called Nyepi. A day of silence. Everything was closed, even the airport. This forced, yet honored holiday faces you with no choice but to ‘just be’. Harder than you think, yet peaceful and rewarding. The Balinese culture values the beauty of silence and meditation so much, an entire day is devoted to it.
Solo travel is a fast track to self awareness. The impact of each moment hits home stronger when traveling by yourself.
As spiritual leader (and former Harvard professor) Ram Dass taught in the 60s - Be Here Now.
And do it on purpose.
A poem travelers understand-
You start dying slowly if you do not travel.
If you do not read, if you do not listen to the sounds of life, if you do not appreciate yourself.
You start dying slowly when you kill your self-esteem; when you do not let others help you.
You start dying slowly if you become a slave of your habits - walking everyday on the same paths.
If you do not change your routine - If you do not wear different colors, or you do not speak to those you don’t know.
You start dying slowly if you avoid to feel passion and it’s turbulent emotions. Those which make your eyes glisten and your heart beat fast.
You start dying slowly If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love. If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain. If you do not go after a dream.
You start dying slowly if you do not allow yourself —- at least once in your lifetime, to run away from sensible advice…..
Martha Medeiros, a Brazilian writer.
