“Oh the things you will see and the people you will meet.”
“Here, take it.” A brown bottle appears under the table from my neighbour. We’re spiking freshly made fruit juice and giggling like old schoolmates.
“Thanks, pass the bread rolls,” I reply. It could be thanksgiving except that the family sharing this meal just met.
We’re laughing about the unannounced emergency drill earlier on the volcano. Sirens cut through the air and all eyes fixed on the ever-active Cotopaxi volcano.
My group had been two hours away on a trek and heard the ominous sound in the distance.
“Oh well, I guess we’re technically farther away from the volcano now,” we’d agreed. There wasn’t really much to be done so we finished the hike.
The others had been mountain biking down the volcano itself. They were stopped on the side of it by an emergency crew for nearly two hours. No one told them it was a drill in any language.
“And then, we’re forced to wait on this erupting volcano to “Wait for a bus,”” we all laugh at the absurdness of it all.
Sound lonely?
The next day, we all sit in a hot tub soaking up views of a snow-capped, ice cold volcano. Each person takes a turn cooling off and running back to the hostel to refill the wine.
Is this lonesome?
Later on, a few of us lay out on a giant hammock under the stars. We met two minutes ago but now are discussing how we feel so tiny in the universe. How that’s actually a relief.
It takes a lot of pressure off when the universe is so incomprehensibly large. Our problems and fears are so small.
“Nothing is important, everything matters.”
I’ve taken several trips alone, wait, I mean solo. Words make a difference.
Yes, there are times I feel lonely, who doesn’t? I love sharing experiences and the inside jokes that transpire. Without someone there to get my puns, it’s just me playing my own snare drum and crash.
Yet, my perspective changed on my last trip to Ecuador. I met a cool chica who was travelling for eight months solo.
Over and over again, people kept saying to her:
“Amazing! But, you must get lonely being all alone.”
That’s when she said it:
“I’m travelling solo, but never alone.”
It stuck with me.
On my flights alone, I had five hour conversations with strangers turned transient friends.
One man had quintuplets! He used to be a prison guard and now runs a booming excavation business in the prairies. The special baby formula the quints need cost over $1,300 a month. It prompted him to start a thriving business. Necessity breeds invention.
Did you know that doctors can diagnose conditions in the womb based on a baby’s neck folds? He told me that, and about how great horned owls as tall as your waist are making a comeback in his province.
Also, his wife was a professional country dancer who placed fourth in Amsterdam. I didn’t even know country music was a thing there.
On the next connection, I laughed over free intercontinental flight wine with an inspiring woman traveller. She lived many lives as a nanny, receptionist, and waitress. She harvested kiwis for room and board in New Zealand, which might be the most quintessential work you could do there besides sheep shearing.She moved her family to India when her daughter was seven years old. She wasn’t forced by work. She wanted the experience for her family.
She had crushed wine with her bare feet in France and Colorado. In France, they walked in their wellies (“rain boots,” she’s a Brit) to a giant wooden barrel outdoors. In Denver, they walked down tiled hallways. Everything was sterilised and sanitised in white buckets. In both places, she stomped.
I didn’t even walk between gates at the airport alone. I met a man who at 70 had started travelling. He’s hooked. Now, he’s off to Guadalajara.His favourite place to visit? The USA because “It’s like 70 countries in one from landscapes to people.” He’d just done a trip to Japan, up into the mountains by train. I was now walking with him to Terminal E in Houston.
It’s important to note that I’m not talk-to-anyone extroverted, I’m an ambi-vert.
Travel removes the comfort zones that make it feel like human interaction taxes our energy.
When you’re not overthinking, it takes away a lot of the drain.
If the conversation ends, it ends. You care less about judgements. Hell, you’ll probably never see that person again.
Travelling friendships may be transient, but they are rich in other ways. It’s easier to be completely yourself as you are right now. No past definitions of “who you are.”
Bring your embarrassing tales and personal tragedy to the table, they’re welcome here.
More importantly, you let go of expectations when travelling.
Especially in relationships. It allows you to let things be just as they are, even appreciate them. You step back and see your draining habits like grasping at if-onlys and coulds and needing things to be a certain way.
Your ideas for how you or another person should be or what a good friendship is are gone. It’s freeing. You can take off your mask and be who you are in each moment. There’s no pressure to stay the same.
Come as you are. Leave your past behind and get giddy about the future ahead.
You don’t have to be travelling to do it.
Each moment is a chance for a fresh start. Be a traveller in your own life.
Also, everyone should be alone sometimes.
Being alone is something that we biologically fear. We are a species that survived on socialising. Isolation meant death. It’s not your fault, but your brain can do better than that.
You can learn to like being by yourself or at least to not avoid it.
When you’re alone, your senses peak and you might even have the opportunity to sit with some of the uncomfortable feelings you’ve been avoiding. I know I do.
“The time you feel lonely is the time you most need to be by yourself,”
– Douglas Coupland
We’re all messy humans, here. Come and join us.
Be gentle with yourself. Flail a bit and mess it up. Say “You’re welcome,” instead of “Thank you.” Then, FORGIVE yourself for it. Laugh about it.
Get curious about outcomes instead of afraid. You have both reactions within you.
And the next time someone says to you: “Hey, aren’t you lonely?” Remember: You might be solo, but you’re never alone.
Rose
Lovely