Just when I thought I had it all figured out, life decided to shake things up and humbly reminded me to hang tight. I suddenly came to a crossroad of life; I finished graduate school after 19 cumulative years of schooling, my long-term relationship came to an end, and I simultaneously started a new career. Life as I knew it, changed, overnight.
These life changes were uncomfortable, and so I thought while I’m sitting here in discomfort, what better time than to get more uncomfortable and embark on my first solo trip abroad? I know, it sounds counterintuitive.
But when did you decide to shake things up when you were in a comfortable situation? I know I never have.
I had only traveled abroad solo once before for an internship in Turkey, but I knew that I was going to be in the company of other interns in the program. This was a totally different ball game. As I sat on the tarmac listening to the safety spiel, I thought to myself there’s really no going back now. I etched out a few stops in Italy, but had no firm plans. I figured I’d let the road take me where I needed to be.
I landed in Rome and then trained into Venice, arriving there late at night after a 14 hour flight and 4 hour train ride. Delirious and hungry, I dragged my suitcase over the bumpy cobblestone streets to my AirBnb.
“Ciao bella! Do you need help?” I looked over my shoulder nervously to see who these guys were talking to. Guarded, after reading about hecklers preying on solo women, I sharply responded that ‘I’ve got this’… trying to convince myself, too. I unloaded my bags and walked to the closest seafood restaurant.
Table for one, please?
Just one, they asked? Yes, just one. I couldn’t help but scan the room and notice all the people around me dining in pairs and groups. Partners romantically sharing pasta dishes and kisses, friends boisterously sipping on who knows what number bottle of vino, and Italians passionately talking with their hands.
After reading the room, I finally read the menu and ordered myself the Adriatic catch of the day. I always find little pieces of home away from home. It’s interesting how food can be a vessel to transport us to familiar grounds.
I jumped into my pjs as soon as I got back to my AirBnb, ready for my uninterrupted night’s rest. Then walked in my host and three Spaniards behind him. Slightly alarmed, as I thought I had this loft all to myself, I walked into the living room mid-way brushing my teeth. I learned that the AirBnb posting was a shared unit, and they’d be in the room adjacent to mine. That’s what you get for booking a posting in Italian, I thought. Well, this could either be really awkward or not, so I decided to make it the latter. The guys and I connected that night over convo, and to this day, remain connected.
We waded through Venice’s worst flood in a decade the following day as we meandered between the canals. I can now understand why they say that Venice will sink; I mean the whole city was man-made, suspended on water! But even flooding couldn’t phase the locals. They continued sipping on cappuccinos inside cafes, where the water levels reached up to mid-calf (everyone sports their plastic knee-high boot covers during Venice’s flash flooding).
Despite the frenzy of the tourists, I noticed Italians around me enjoying “il dolce far niente,” which translates to the sweetness of doing nothing. Like sipping on cappuccinos, regardless of the background noise around.
Europe’s café culture is palpable.
It has no time constraints and is enjoyed both alone and in the company of others — but unlike ‘happy hour’ in the US, it doesn’t require planning and calendar matchmaking. It just happens. It is cheap and highly accessible to all. Besides, there’s this understanding that it’s not about the cost of what’s consumed because you’re buying time to be in good company.
I understand that a lot of women make a pilgrimage to Italy in hopes of living out their own Eat, Pray, Love… and sometimes it felt like I was primarily eating. I ate a copious amount of gelato; sometimes for breakfast, always for dessert. The tiramisu, the decadent pastas, thin crust pizzas topped with melt-in-your-mouth burrata, paired with Aperol Spritz or wine — priced cheaper than sparkling water oftentimes. I mean, who wouldn’t grub!
I quickly got comfortable eating alone because I realized alone — we can breath in and relish the flavors in a sauce, or the coolness of a pitcher of cream. Things we don’t necessarily take time to do in the presence of company and lively convo. A solo meal out is an opportunity to go slow — to savor.
Traveling solo prompted me to realize that and so much more.
I only share this now to encourage any others that are considering solo travel to just do it. Don’t wait around to play calendar match-making with your friends; we’re all adults with busy schedules.
What if you don’t itch that curiosity now and then find yourself in a global pandemic without any travel for a year and a half?
I get it, solo travel may not be for everyone. But how will you know if you don’t give it a shot? Maybe you’ll experience loneliness, but so what if you’re lonely in a beautiful place with so much livelihood around you?
One of the most common things I hear from others is regret for not mustering courage to travel solo. Traveling with others is fun because you get to build shared experiences and memories. But traveling solo is character-building because you’re in a heightened sense of awareness as you move alone through unfamiliar places and pass unfamiliar faces. It’s those quiet moments in passing that shape into the most tender memories.
There’s this shared kinship when meeting others who have had the courage to sit alone — to travel alone.
There’s an unspoken sacredness to understanding the discomfort in those lived experiences but also the unparalleled positive outcomes they yield that you just don’t find elsewhere.
So, go out there and find yourself. And remember that some paths are only found after getting a little lost along the way.
