After walking the ancient wall that encloses the original city of Girona, Catalonia, I returned to my computer to find an article, “68 Thoughts Every Traveler Has On Their Trip Around The World” by Nomadic Matt, one of the many travel writers to whom I happily subscribe. He does a great job at encouraging his peers to “travel cheaper, better, and longer.” While his article appeals and applies to a 20-something beer-drinking, hostel-staying crowd – the ones I met 35 years ago – it inspired me to wonder if I could make a list of “68 Thoughts A Baby-Boomer Woman Traveler Has When Traveling Alone.” Why not?
Matt wrote his list in the third person; mine is first-person and I would not presume or generalize about anyone else’s experience. Although I have had some times of loneliness, I am pleased to note I’ve had no regrets about embarking on this journey, I have been supported in countless ways by human angels at every turn, and have faith I will find my way “”home” and inhabit my dreams all along the way.
Your comments, as always, are welcome. As Iggymo would say, smiles and love.
68 Thoughts A Baby-Boomer Woman Traveler Has Traveling Alone
1. I’ve done this before, I can do it again.
2. This time I am more mature, have more skills and contacts and know-how to plan and budget.
3. I know it’s important to travel light, but damn, I need these 5 pairs of shoes because I have bunions and my feet ache and I need to have alternatives.
4. I will be traveling to various climates and have many experiences, so I need a variety of clothes for warm and cool weather, informal and more formal.
5. I need these hair and body products, this makeup, these over-the-counter drugs just in case… it’s a lot to carry, but important.
6. OK, so I fit everything into 2 rolling bags that weigh in just below the airline limit (25kg each). No matter, I can hire porters and airport carts.
7. There are no porters and airport carts. My bags are way too heavy.
8. I’m afraid I’m going to strain a muscle.
9. Why is there no one to help me?
10. Why did I agree to stay in a 4th floor walk-up without an elevator?
11. Oh well, it’s for a few weeks and I only have to carry them up and down once.
12. Yay! I am in Madrid!
13. It’s a beautiful city I’ve been in twice before and know my way around.
14. There are people everywhere, and I am lonely.
15. I attend InterNations events and get together with a few people. Well done, making new friends, seeing the sights.
16. I am still lonely.
17. I need to make more friends.
18. I do. Good, interesting people. Good for me.
19. This is the first stop on what may be a long journey in search of home. I chose this. Be patient.
20. Love yourself.
21. Everyone thinks you’re courageous.
22. I’m not. I want to see if it’s true what I’ve been telling others: that you can “Inhabit Your Dreams!” Can you really? Can I?
23. Damn, I spent a lot of money on clothes, thinking I needed to buy them before I left, only to discover I could have bought better, cheaper, more interesting clothes in Madrid.
24. I’ll give away everything I don’t need and then my suitcases will be lighter.
25. Two bags of clothes and toiletries gone to the woman who cleans the hallways, and still my bags are full to the max and too heavy. How can this be? What else can I give away?
26. Why did I bring all those toiletries and medicines? I can buy almost everything I need when I need it.
27. Why did I bring a router and printer? I thought I’d need them for my work, but this is Europe and there is wi-fi and copy shops are everywhere. Get rid of them.
28. I give them to friends to use, with the agreement I can have them back if I need them. Why would I need them? Stop hanging on to things for some imagined contingency.
24. I carry the still-too-heavy bags down 4 flights of stairs, one at a time, at 7 a.m. Why is there no one here to help me?
25. I could hurt myself.
26. I do not know how to travel light.
27. Why is the taxi I reserved not here to take me to the train station?
28. I could miss my train and keep a friend waiting who is driving a long way to meet me. How would I get in touch with her? I haven’t figured out how to call France from Spain on a Spanish cell phone.
29. I am pathetic.
30. I will leave all my things in the hallway and hope no one steals them while I run around the corner and hope to find a taxi. Am I am idiot?
31. I find a taxi. I am OK. I am resourceful.
32. Strangers help me with my over-weight bags. I am blessed.
33. My new friend is at the Bayonne station to meet me. All is well.
34. I stay at her beautiful home in the French countryside. I am so lucky. How can two weeks pass so quickly? I didn’t get much done.
35. I am much more relaxed, at peace with this path I’ve set for myself.
36. I am organized.
37. I leave more things behind but my bags are still too heavy.
38. I am on my way to Girona, where I have wanted to go for years, and with a great place to stay, thanks to more great people in my life. It’s all good.
39. There is a French railroad strike and I cannot use the ticket I bought weeks ago to Girona. Now what? Why is this happening to me?
40. There must be another way to get there. Yes, a bus at midnight getting me in at 4 a.m. OK, I’ll deal with it. I buy the bus ticket. Whew. I’ll email my friends in Girona.
41. Fuckin’ internet at the station doesn’t work (“Sorry for the inconvenience” says the online message). I am being foiled at every turn. Am I not supposed to go to Girona? Stop with the “magical thinking,” it’s just a railway strike!
43. I find a wifi signal and get through to them. They are very helpful and consoling. Relax. All is well.
42. Can I just retreat to the comfort of my friend’s nice house in the country? No, you must carry on. Remember how courageous your friends think you are.
43. Thank god there is baggage storage next to the train station. I wheel my bags, piggy backed. It works on flat paved ground. Pretty cool.
44. Now what? I break down and cry. Why am I all alone? This is too much.
45. You’re in Toulouse. You were here before in 2008, as a journalist guest of the Tourism Board. You can rent a city bike. You have a Mexican credit card with a chip in it that should work. You are so smart.
47. With help from other bike renter, you figure it out. It works. Now ride around and see what you can discover. It’s a beautiful day. All is well.
48. I wave at kids on a boat on the river and stop to buy a bottle of water. A young French man and I get into a conversation. He is a filmmaker, lived in Australia, is full of ideas. We talk for a hour. He takes a photo of Iggy and me and the bike. How sweet! Life is full of good things.
49. The gazebo at the park is full of dancing couples, the sidewalk cafes full of friends. It is beautiful and I feel lonely.
50. The bus is full and cramped. How have I managed to travel widely and this is the first time ever that my plans have been derailed? I guess I am lucky.
51. I am in Girona. My friends make me feel very welcome. But they are leaving for the weeks I will be here. I will be alone.
52. This is a beautiful apartment they have given me. I feel grateful.
53. The city has so much history and places to explore. I can take care of myself here, see what I want, do what I want.
54. I don’t really care about churches and museums. I’ve seen a lot of them. What am I really interested in and when am I going to finish writing the two books I have in process?
55. I get out and walk around, talk to people, use “my companion” IggyMo as a device. Some moments are interesting, engaged. I stop and interact. I am good at this.
56. There are many shops with beautiful things. I don’t need to buy anything. It’s strange not having a home in which to put beautiful things.
57. The bread, pastries, wine and chocolates are fabulous and cheap. I am enjoying them all and hope I don’t gain weight.
58. That’s what happened 35 years ago when I traveled in Europe alone. But I was scared then. I’m not scared now, just missing having someone to share all this with.
59. I have coffee with a neighbor. How nice!
60. He has a life. I don’t. But I am just getting started creating this new one. Be gentle with yourself.
61. I am good at distracting myself with Facebook, with work, with writing this list.
62. Remember: this is what many people dream of doing. This is what you said you dream of doing!
63. I feel grateful for my freedom, for the many friends around the world who think of me, care about me, allow me to care about them. How blessed I am!
64. I will take myself to the coast tomorrow, as it will be hot and sunny and I want to go to the Costa Brava, the Brave Coast. I want to be brave.
65. This is my life, my human experience. I am fortunate to be here, to look out over this beautiful historic city of Girona and have so many adventures ahead.
66. I could go to a jazz club tonight, but I am too tired.
67. I think of going to Barcelona for a day or two, as it’s so close, but it seems exhausting. I was there for a week in 2006 and I have no desire to sightsee. Too many people. Better to stay in a place, ideally for a month of more.
68. In 2 weeks I will train to Paris (if there’s no train strike) and meet up with one of my oldest, dearest friends and, for that week, and the next with another friend in Burgundy, I will share the experience and appreciate not being alone. I will get rid of even more stuff, and little by little my luggage must surely become lighter.
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What a wonderful post. Thanks for posting the negative as well as the positive. You are inhabiting your dreams!
“Dreams pass into reality of action. From actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living” –Anais Nin
Thanks, Shane! I am encouraged by your words, and those of Anais Nin.
I loved reading this! What a wonderful way to express all that you are going through. (Your internal journey as well as your external one). Sending you love and light, Dear One. Traveling Mercies. xo
PS I so love your writing. <3
Jan, I loved writing this and am so happy you loved reading it. It seems clear that when we are truly engaged, present and enjoying whatever we’re doing, “something good” comes of it. I am basking in your love and light. ox
Hi my fellow gypsy! I soooooo know exactly what you’re going through having done the same thing two years ago. Now of course I’ve taken a different tack and recommend retreat travel. But I also hope we can meet up somewhere in August – thinking about Croatia!! Keep me posted – I have more free time after tomorrow. Love from high atop a mountain in Greece! XOXOX
Hi Carole! Sounds like “retreat travel” is perfect for you. Yay! It’s interesting how people are responding to this post. I’ve received recommendations, commisserations and friendly support. All appreciated. It’s important to note that this is not a static state of affairs but the recounting of select thoughts over the course of my first 6 weeks on the road. In between those lines were great encounters with people and places, marvels beheld, much enjoyment in street cafes, fabulous food and wine, etc. The biggest challenges arise in the movement of all my worldly possessions (2 suitcases) from one place to another. Most people would wish for such “problems”. Will be in touch about possible meetups…oxxo
Thank you for so much honesty, Aysha! I started to write, “both the courage and the doubts,” but even to admit the doubts takes courage! Blessings on your journey and on learning to travel light. On the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage road, with a pack on one’s back, the same recurrent thread occurs: Do I need this? How much do I need? What am I carrying that I don’t need to carry, that holds me back, that bends my back… Do I really need all this stuff (emotional, material, or whatever) I’m carrying? Blessings on discernment!
Just returning from a long and wonderfully connected trip. Mechanical problems and missed connections and now at hotel in albuquerque. Just read your post with heart in my throat. Your writing is so lucid and transparent that I can feel it across the thousands of miles. Loneliness is daunting and luggage is a burden but the key moments of connection seem to make you forget about the downside. I admire you for allowing yourself to laugh and cry and eat and schlepp and then write about it all.
Elyn, Yes! to discernment, on all levels. In my response to friends’ kind comments, I keep wanting to stress: but I’m homeless! It’s not the same as packing bags for a trek or extended vacation where you go home to your bed, books, hobbies, closets and cupboards full of things you love, an address. When you leave it behind, you assume you will return to its solace. Of course you don’t have to take much! I am the queen of packing light for holidays. I wrote an article years ago for TravelSmith: “Two Weeks, One Carry On.” I know how to do that. What I don’t yet know how to do is be comfortable with all the Uncertainty. Not having a home is affecting me more than I realized. I don’t know why I think it’s important that my friends understand this… especially as some (like you and Gary), have generously offered me a home, a sanctuary, for a time. But, I suspect it’s related to wanting them to understand this is different. And as much I kept saying it had nothing to do with courage. As you note, it does. I’m forcing myself to face my insecurities, my faith (or lack thereof), to forgive myself for the choices that brought me to here and now, and also to appreciate both the scariness and the opportunities of being so free. I am not like the approximate 1 billion exiles on the planet, for whom I’m gaining ever more compassion. No, I have resources and lots of wonderful people in my life. And yes, what I choose to carry forward is related to the baggage. Thanks for helping bring this forth… all grist for the mill on our journeys.
Dear Judie, You know too well all of this. You are my mentor: soft heart, you said again and again. So I am laughing, crying, eating (and drinking great wine), schlepping and writing, and grateful for it all (most of the time). xoxox
I honor your courage because it DOES take courage. As you point out, you don’t have a home and that is indeed different from a month or six-month vacation or backpacking excursion around the world. It’s true you are not “homeless” without resources, you are not a landless refugee, not an unfortunate victim of poverty/drugs/illness/broken dreams… But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take courage for you to make this conscious choice to be on the road and outside the comfort zone. And to have nothing but your resourcefulness to return to again and again. Hurrah for you! You remind me of Indiana Jones in the movie about the grail, where he steps across the abyss, trusting that there is an invisible bridge to walk upon.
I will be very interested in hearing your post-travels response to what you have written. You are ridding yourself of so much baggage in this process, it’s as if your packed suitcases are symbolic and this is really the purpose of your trip. Home. . . I understand that search. The search for the place where you just feel you belong, to every tree and rock and drop of water. Where every molecule of your being resonates with the energy that surrounds you. I sent you pictures this morning of one of the places that happens for me, but there are others. Be open to the possibility that you may have multiple homes. . . that perhaps wherever you are is home, if only for a while. . .
Aysha, this rings so true about solo/sola travel! Brava. A fabulous, funny, bittersweet piece. xxxxxx
My dear Cousin, Anne (Savitt) I love your insights, I appreciate your knowing. I am grateful for this idea: “where every moldecule of your being resonates with the energy that surrounds you.” I saw the photos of the place from which our great-grandfather originates… how marvelous to know of such connection. Thank you! xoxox
Dear Jann, I hoped you’d see this and appreciate. It was definitely meant to have some humor. IggyMo and I hope to see you one day in Sicily. Even if I don’t always respond, please know I always enjoy http://www.baroquesicily.com. Love to you and Kim!
Thanks Elyn for hearing me so deeply. I love the invisible bridge. I love that you are in my life, and I am in your beautiful home. And that there is so much infathomable mystery we have the grace to explore. As the firecrackers continue to rage, I can’t wait to write about this evening, Sant Joan… which, judging from the witches and bonfires, has nothing to do with a religious Roman Catholic holiday. Abrazos!
Wonderful post, Aysha! I am considering some solo travel soon, and the thought of it is scaring me. You are courageous! I have found an anchor here in Puerto Morelos in the form of my mother’s home, (after much struggling, because it’s hers and not mine… even though she is gone) but I do know how you feel about being unmoored. It’s difficult. And still, the anchor is tenuous — I am not sure where “home” is, other than inside my own sweet skin.
I also have neglected my blog for a long time and want to start again, but don’t know where or how… and look at you, you just did it! Thanks for leading the way. Keep writing!
Kim
Hello dear Kim! Thank you for your kind words and thoughts. I am happy to hear you have made a home – or created an anchor – in Puerto Morelos because it is, afterall, yours to make there; a gift, a legacy from your mom, that you can decide is yours… at least for now. I agree that ultimately and always, home is within… and yet, as physical beings, sensitive to our environment, a sense of place is important too. I met a British woman in her 70s the other day at the beach who lives in an old stone house between the coast and Girona. She said she arrived in this area 37 years ago and immediately knew she had found her home. That is the sort of experience I am after. Since my heart has long yearned for Europe, I trust I will find it here.
For now, I get to explore, and I recognize this marvelous opportunity I’ve created for myself, with much support from the remarkable people who grace my life. I have lived in many beautiful places, but I attached that sense of home to a specific person, to the partnership I was in for many years. When that ended, I wandered to Mexico, made a few friends, lived in various houses, developed some new directions through doors that opened to me, and I grieved. Like you, grief was not for only the then-current loss, but for all the losses in my life. It was deep and difficult as I sought to release the past. Moving on (physically as well as emotionally) became imperative. It did not take courage to make the decision, but it is required for carrying on in faith of the rightness of it.
Of course, the sadness – and compassion gained from those years (I didn’t know it would take so long, but grieving has no timetable) – are a part of me; a part I have come to appreciate because I have more access to emotions, feel more whole, less scared. Bit by bit, over time, the walls crumbled. Yesterday, I had an experience (about which I’ll blog) that further lightened my load.
Although I can be honest about the loneliness I sometimes feel, I wake each day delighted I am in Madrid or the French countryside or, as now, Girona, and open to whatever this new day brings. So I encourage you to start blogging again. Start with today, your dreams, hopes, fears. Just start. And then commit to once a week or whatever makes sense to you. And as for travel, you are in the enviable position that you can take off with one bag and go and experience, and return home whenever you like. It’s your life. Live it however you please! Love!