The wonders of solo-travelling

Airports are magnificent places, full of memories to be made and memories that are carried through its corridors. Airports are spaces where all human emotions are concealed; excitement for the unknown adventure that awaits, stress over the unknown adventure that awaits, heartbreak upon separation from the people you love, anxiety whether you’re gonna make it to the gate on time, curiosity for the undiscovered place on the other side of the world, profound love and impatience to see your loved ones, exhaustion from the countless steps you have taken in order to be there…

I’ve always thought that airports are the perfect movie set-up. Whenever I am in one, I always like to observe people and try to understand their story, where they go and where they come from, and why they are there. If only there was music in the background.

Countless times I found myself getting lost in my thoughts while waiting for my flight when I travelled alone. It may sound cliché, but to me, solo travelling is a form of self-discovery.

More often than not, I find myself being anxious over travelling alone. What if something happens to me? What if I get lost on my own, or I find myself in the midst of a dangerous situation, and I cannot get myself out of it? What if I want to pee and there’s no one looking after my luggage?

But here’s the thing: these concerns have never stopped me from doing it. I always tend to think of the worst-case scenarios, but it usually turns out to be just fine. I am not entirely fearless, but there is an insatiable hunger inside me that pushes aside all of my anxieties.

Great memories are made while travelling alone, not necessarily with strangers, but with your own self. Travelling alone has given me the opportunity to reconnect with myself, especially at times when I felt self-alienated. It has shown me how strong I can be, and at the same time it has made me aware of the limits of my own strengths. Going off to a journey on my own has also taught me that getting lost is not always a bad thing, as it has led me to some wonderful places that I would not have gone to if I was a bit more oriented (a silver lining to everything, perhaps?).

Being alone with myself and exploring an unknown place has also sparked my creativity. There is a memory I cherish, a memory which comes with a great feeling every time I think of it, when I was alone in Málaga and I decided to visit the Picasso Museum. It was a warm April afternoon, I had just finished a work meeting and I decided to visit the museum. I stopped by the hotel, took off my work clothes and put on a navy, skater dress with tiny white flowers on it, strapped a long-sleeved shirt on my waist, packed my notebook, pen and sunglasses and set off. I remember walking slowly in the museum, spectating even the tiniest detail of the paintings while being zoned out and almost entirely unaware of the people around me. I still remember, three years later, the exhilaration I felt while being engulfed in the art around me.

When I exited the museum, with a smile on my face, I sat at a nearby café on a narrow street and had a beer while writing some thoughts on my notebook.

But my satisfaction soon shifted to a semi-gloominess, upon realising that I had a sheer desire to share what I had just experienced with someone. I did not mind walking around alone or having an internal discussion with myself in front of the painting-filled walls. However, the experience was so good that I desperately wished I could turn my head and speak about it to a person next to me, a lover, a partner.

I decided it was time to move on and shake off the feeling of longing for a ghost. There was a neighbourhood I wanted to see, and I set off to find it. Before too long, I realised I got lost. As anxiety feelings started to emerge, I cut them off and said, fuck it. What if I was not where I was supposed to be? The streets looked beautiful nevertheless, and they were calling me to run them through. Without giving it much thought, I bought a chocolate and caramel ice-cream and started walking through the neighbourhood. I discovered there was a film festival in the city, so I sneakily walked on the red carpet with a mild sense of pride. Later on, I discovered an outside bookshop that sold second-hand books, which I utterly love, an exterior vinyl shop full of gems and a street filled with emerald-green trees that looked gorgeous paired with the golden, afternoon sun.

I had quite a lot of moments like this one, and even bad ones, throughout my solo travels, but I regret none. I think of it as a time to reconnect with myself, a time that makes me more aware of my needs as a person. Coming from a person who often puts others’ needs above her own, getting to know yourself and love it throughout the process of travelling alone is life-changing.

It’s truly amazing what one can experience once they open their wings and fly, if only they acquired just a bit of courage.

a.