I could write about many of my past travels and time spent in countries on my own for this post, but I’ve decided to focus on my February 2015 trip to Belgium (Bruges, Ghent, and Antwerp) and Luxembourg (Luxembourg City). It was during these four days that I felt both the highest highs and uncomfortable lows of traveling alone. I’ve come across a few articles recently about solo traveling that have described the positive aspects of traveling by yourself, including 10 Reasons to Travel Alone and Why You Should Travel Solo At Least Once. I am in full agreement with all these reasons and more! But, behind the hundreds of beautiful photos and inspiring quotes, traveling alone isn’t always constant smiles and feel good feelings.
1) You will feel lonely. Perhaps not all the time, but it will come. Sometimes you will feel so lonely and disconnected from the people around you that you’ll think you’ll never travel alone again. In fact you may even think you will stop travelling altogether, move back home and surround yourself with your closest family and friends for the rest of your life, because why waste time being alone when you don’t have to? And spending time with loved ones is what life should be about, right?
After traveling around three Belgian cities and walking constantly for three days on my own, my legs were tired, my feet sore, and I began to feel more distanced and unconnected from the people around me. Perhaps in part due to a language and cultural barrier, but more so from the lack of personal and meaningful interaction with other humans, limited on this trip to checking into hostels or buying food from vendors on the street. I would pass by groups of friends hanging out, eating together and laughing, and became more and more aware of being alone.
But feeling lonely while traveling isn’t always a bad thing. It is in these moments I find myself the most introspective and learn the most about me, including my deepest wants and fears. The degree of loneliness can vary and often feeling lonely is just one option of many. Sometimes all it can take is a smile and hello to another traveler staying at the same hostel to spark up a conversation. It might feel awkward at first, but once the ice is broken it only gets easier. And often these types of conversations can be the most inspiring and meaningful as you share your dreams and worries with one another, and then go your separate ways, sometimes without even knowing the other person’s name but always feeling rejuvenated by the human and traveling spirit.
After traveling around three Belgian cities and walking constantly for three days on my own, my legs were tired, my feet sore, and I began to feel more distanced and unconnected from the people around me. Perhaps in part due to a language and cultural barrier, but more so from the lack of personal and meaningful interaction with other humans, limited on this trip to checking into hostels or buying food from vendors on the street. I would pass by groups of friends hanging out, eating together and laughing, and became more and more aware of being alone.
But feeling lonely while traveling isn’t always a bad thing. It is in these moments I find myself the most introspective and learn the most about me, including my deepest wants and fears. The degree of loneliness can vary and often feeling lonely is just one option of many. Sometimes all it can take is a smile and hello to another traveler staying at the same hostel to spark up a conversation. It might feel awkward at first, but once the ice is broken it only gets easier. And often these types of conversations can be the most inspiring and meaningful as you share your dreams and worries with one another, and then go your separate ways, sometimes without even knowing the other person’s name but always feeling rejuvenated by the human and traveling spirit.
2) You will be uncomfortable. Sometimes uncomfortable that you don’t feel you are blending in with locals and standing out like a sore thumb, or uncomfortable walking alone or at night, or uncomfortable with unwanted attention. Being uncomfortable can take multiple forms, and while some discomfort is never a good thing (i.e. harassment) some discomfort can provide moments of great learning and growth (i.e. missing home or being the only one of your nationality or ethnicity or language in a group of people when you are used to being in the majority).
Luxembourg was a place I had been excited to visit for a long time (I think because it has the letter “x” in it and I like bizarre letters). I stayed in a hotel which wasn’t in the best part of town. The short one block from the hotel entrance to the main street was filled with gentlemen’s clubs and seedy looking bars. I was approached and catcalled by several men but kept walking with confidence and avoidance as I made my way to the main part of town. I found a nice, lively looking cafe for dinner and was happily enjoying my meal when approached by a man who would not leave me alone. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I was at first polite and answered his questions but cautious not to get involved too heavily in conversation (he was pretty drunk and much older). As his unwanted attention increased, my good manners decreased. Luckily the waitress was aware of what was going on hearing all of my firm “nos” and intervened, shooing him on his drunken way. While I classify this as a negative form of discomfort, it is a reality of traveling solo, especially as a female.
I have been fortunate that I have never feared for my safety in any country I have ever been to. There have been the occasional harassers and pesky men but I have learned that with confidence and firmness, they won’t stick around for long. Part of traveling alone is being open to meeting new people along the way, but also being smart about who and how you interact with others. A vast majority of people I’ve interacted with on my travels have had good intentions with a lot to offer, and being too cautious and closed up can mean missed opportunities for wonderful conversation. Yet being prepared for moments of discomfort is something to always keep in mind and, more than likely, if you find yourself in an uncomfortable situation there are others nearby willing to help out.
Luxembourg was a place I had been excited to visit for a long time (I think because it has the letter “x” in it and I like bizarre letters). I stayed in a hotel which wasn’t in the best part of town. The short one block from the hotel entrance to the main street was filled with gentlemen’s clubs and seedy looking bars. I was approached and catcalled by several men but kept walking with confidence and avoidance as I made my way to the main part of town. I found a nice, lively looking cafe for dinner and was happily enjoying my meal when approached by a man who would not leave me alone. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I was at first polite and answered his questions but cautious not to get involved too heavily in conversation (he was pretty drunk and much older). As his unwanted attention increased, my good manners decreased. Luckily the waitress was aware of what was going on hearing all of my firm “nos” and intervened, shooing him on his drunken way. While I classify this as a negative form of discomfort, it is a reality of traveling solo, especially as a female.
I have been fortunate that I have never feared for my safety in any country I have ever been to. There have been the occasional harassers and pesky men but I have learned that with confidence and firmness, they won’t stick around for long. Part of traveling alone is being open to meeting new people along the way, but also being smart about who and how you interact with others. A vast majority of people I’ve interacted with on my travels have had good intentions with a lot to offer, and being too cautious and closed up can mean missed opportunities for wonderful conversation. Yet being prepared for moments of discomfort is something to always keep in mind and, more than likely, if you find yourself in an uncomfortable situation there are others nearby willing to help out.
3) You have to remind yourself to stay in the present. If you are a planner, you will be thinking about where to go and what to see next. If you are a photographer, you’ll be thinking about what photo(s) to post and the best captions to go along. If you are blogger, you’ll be thinking about what to write about in your next post. And it will be easy to get distracted from what’s in front of you and who’s around you.
While tired and lonely in Luxembourg, I was so looking forward to getting home. My last day there was rainy so my walk around the city was cut short. I thought about heading to the airport extra early since I didn’t know what else to do. But a friend who had been to Luxembourg before had recommended a chocolate cafe to me, so I stopped in and my spirits were quickly lifted. I ate some amazing soup, delicious cake and had one of the best hot chocolates in my life (honey salt). I was there for so long so started talking to my waitress in a mixture of English and French. I found out it was her first day on the job and she was very nervous, but I never would have guessed it. She thought I was very brave traveling on my own, but for me traveling alone is normalcy. All about perspective.
Because I was in that cafe for so long, purposely putting my phone away and taking everything in, I can still remember every detail of the interior, my table, that waitress and all the soul-warming tastes. It was a much needed moment for me to pause and remind myself to live in the moment and appreciate that particular time and place as it is, without worrying about what’s next, because nothing lasts forever. My time in Luxembourg will most closely be associated with that chocolate cafe (and fortunately not the uncomfortable encounter at dinner the night before).
While tired and lonely in Luxembourg, I was so looking forward to getting home. My last day there was rainy so my walk around the city was cut short. I thought about heading to the airport extra early since I didn’t know what else to do. But a friend who had been to Luxembourg before had recommended a chocolate cafe to me, so I stopped in and my spirits were quickly lifted. I ate some amazing soup, delicious cake and had one of the best hot chocolates in my life (honey salt). I was there for so long so started talking to my waitress in a mixture of English and French. I found out it was her first day on the job and she was very nervous, but I never would have guessed it. She thought I was very brave traveling on my own, but for me traveling alone is normalcy. All about perspective.
Because I was in that cafe for so long, purposely putting my phone away and taking everything in, I can still remember every detail of the interior, my table, that waitress and all the soul-warming tastes. It was a much needed moment for me to pause and remind myself to live in the moment and appreciate that particular time and place as it is, without worrying about what’s next, because nothing lasts forever. My time in Luxembourg will most closely be associated with that chocolate cafe (and fortunately not the uncomfortable encounter at dinner the night before).
4) You learn the only thing to be attached to is detachment. Because you know the moment you say hello to someone or some place, there will be the inevitable farewell. Whether in a few minutes, a couple hours, days, months, or even years, the goodbye will come and you’ll do anything to make it less painful.
Detachment doesn’t mean disengagement. It’s still important to fully immerse yourself in whatever situation or place you are in and to live in the present moment. When traveling alone you learn to make friends with anyone and in any situation. I can, perhaps more than most, feel instantly connected to a person and feel they are a close friend after just one meeting (although I recognize the feeling may not be reciprocated), but I can just as quickly let go and move on. I suppose it’s sort of a defence mechanism since the life of a traveler involves many meetings and just as many partings. This cycle of comings and goings becomes normal and even desired at times; as another globetrotting friend of mine recently wrote in her blog, “when the foreign becomes familiar, the familiar becomes foreign.”
While I really didn’t get to know any people in Belgium or Luxembourg, I may not ever return to those places and that in itself is letting go — accepting the finality of that particular experience and moment in time. The close friends and deep connections I have made on my travels in other places are much harder to detach from. It’s not that I want to detach from them, but you know deep down that once you physically leave a place things will change. Facebook and other social media sites help to stay in touch but it’s just not the same as face to face interaction and physical proximity. When you have gone through countless farewells to people and places like I have, you learn to accept the letting go part of it and move on. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, but it’s a reality. I find comfort in knowing that the bonds of shared experiences I have with others in my past will forever keep us connected. And sometimes I even have the greatest reunions with old friends in my dreams while I'm sleeping.
Detachment doesn’t mean disengagement. It’s still important to fully immerse yourself in whatever situation or place you are in and to live in the present moment. When traveling alone you learn to make friends with anyone and in any situation. I can, perhaps more than most, feel instantly connected to a person and feel they are a close friend after just one meeting (although I recognize the feeling may not be reciprocated), but I can just as quickly let go and move on. I suppose it’s sort of a defence mechanism since the life of a traveler involves many meetings and just as many partings. This cycle of comings and goings becomes normal and even desired at times; as another globetrotting friend of mine recently wrote in her blog, “when the foreign becomes familiar, the familiar becomes foreign.”
While I really didn’t get to know any people in Belgium or Luxembourg, I may not ever return to those places and that in itself is letting go — accepting the finality of that particular experience and moment in time. The close friends and deep connections I have made on my travels in other places are much harder to detach from. It’s not that I want to detach from them, but you know deep down that once you physically leave a place things will change. Facebook and other social media sites help to stay in touch but it’s just not the same as face to face interaction and physical proximity. When you have gone through countless farewells to people and places like I have, you learn to accept the letting go part of it and move on. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, but it’s a reality. I find comfort in knowing that the bonds of shared experiences I have with others in my past will forever keep us connected. And sometimes I even have the greatest reunions with old friends in my dreams while I'm sleeping.
Despite the challenges that come with solo travel, the rewards far outweigh the difficulties. The personal growth, confidence, self-awareness and self-creation that is gained when stepping outside your comfort zone can be astounding. The exposure of, engagement with, and learning of other cultures and people widens your worldview and sense of place in the world. It pushes you to be a better person and act with kindness and acceptance. It teaches you empathy and compassion. It makes you more intolerant of intolerance. And while these are all benefits of travel in general, there's something just a bit more magical and a little more rewarding when you do it on your own.
And while, yes, I do miss my family and friends living abroad, and I do sometimes feel lonely and uncomfortable when traveling alone, and I get tired of shallow roots and continuously saying goodbye, I have chosen this life and I wouldn’t trade it in for anything else.
And while, yes, I do miss my family and friends living abroad, and I do sometimes feel lonely and uncomfortable when traveling alone, and I get tired of shallow roots and continuously saying goodbye, I have chosen this life and I wouldn’t trade it in for anything else.
For more photos of Belgium and Luxembourg, click here.