Many of my friends and family have called me brave for traveling solo. Most of the time, I don’t feel that brave. Getting lost in an unfamiliar place isn’t a big deal when you’ve got all day to find your path again. Talking to a friendly stranger on a bus is easier than striking up a conversation with someone you already know, and every kind person who discovers that you’re traveling by yourself automatically wants to take you under their wing.
On the other hand, I think my friends and family are right that traveling solo is brave. But the external difficulties don’t require as much courage as the simple fact that when I travel solo, the only human around who truly knows me is myself. For someone who’s grown up in a family who can practically predict my every thought, that’s a tough situation. When my family, my surroundings, and everybody’s expectations are stripped away, actions become of infinite importance. My family knows that if I getting extremely angry it means I need to lay off the sugar, but to the person I meet on the road, I’m simply an angry person. My family knows that I’m as lazy and griping as the next person, but to the host who sees me industriously washing dishes, I’m the picture of selfless servitude. I often feel that people on the road understand me, but there’s never enough time to build a relationship that allows me to completely unwind into the tangled mess of emotional threads and wires and gears that I am. In other words, on the road I meet a lot of friends, but I don’t find a family.
Today was the first time I spent a major holiday away from my parents and siblings, and although we don’t have any cherished Easter traditions, I still felt the separation more keenly today. A brief cell phone conversation was all I got, because they were taking a walk and I was getting ready for my crash-course in gluten- and dairy-free cooking for Easter dinner (the meal turned out deliciously, without any disasters whatsoever, to my shock). For some reason, on a holiday the distance between family and friends seems greater than usual. In simple words, I get homesick.
“Home” ceased to be a physical place in 2007, when we had to move from the house which had served as a playground, schoolhouse, catalyst and haven for sixteen years. I picked up my personal space and carried it with me, but I didn’t set it down at the new house— I had a room that I slept in, but it wasn’t “my bedroom.” From then on out, I’ve been carrying around my space with me wherever I go. When I walk with God and my thoughts, that’s my space. When I close my eyes and listen to my iPod, that’s my space. It’s not home, but it’s a place like home, a moment that I can hold onto in any unfamiliar place. For me, that’s the key to sanity in solo travel.
Money spent yesterday (supplies for Easter dinner): $11.17
Leeway so far: $129.05
So well written -- and enjoyable to read. I've been all over the country by myself(generally for work-sometimes just for fun) and I love it. Yes, I've been lost in practically every city in the US and much of Canada -- but I never cared-- I always found where I needed to go. Your blog has been great fun to read -- yes, I've traveled -- but NEVER with you budget considerations -- and I most likely never will -- which is why it has been so interesting seeing how you are doing it.
ReplyDeleteThat homelessness is the theme of my life, Lisa. We are all displaced persons waiting for the Return of the King.
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