I used to find airports stressful. I mean, I still do – I’m the sort of person who glides mindlessly through security only to be swiftly apprehended (“Er, madam, why is there a litre of water and four bottles of sun cream in your bag?”). But I find them a little less stressful these days. I put it down to the fact that I mostly travel alone. I can arrive as early or as late as I want, drink as many overpriced coffees as I fancy and not go into total unadulterated panic mode when I grossly underestimate the distance to the gate. Because this is my holiday – and my holiday only!
Travelling solo is a pleasure, a tonic, and occasionally a character-building experience (more on that later …). I started doing it by accident. I was 29 when a friend couldn’t make a trip to Paris at the last minute. I went anyway, and also decided to make my life 500% harder by only speaking French, which I hadn’t done since I’d left university several years earlier. Having this goal also distracted me from the fact that I was visiting museums, galleries and restaurants alone, something that can seem almost taboo in a world set up for couples, pairs and groups.
Luckily, people definitely care less in Europe. I have floated around bars by myself in Barcelona; sampled the best Korean food for one that Toulouse had to offer; gone to the beach solo in Marseille; and almost caused security incidents on various European trains by trailing an illegally large suitcase behind me.
Over the past few years, it has become my thing. The people I used to go on holiday with were getting married, having kids or moving away. I didn’t want to wait for anyone to be free, so I started booking more solo jaunts, figuring that long-term financial stability was overrated anyway, and maybe a little incompatible with the freelance life I had chosen. It felt like a good mix of joyful and nihilistic.
There are challenges, of course, like the time that I had a heinous bout of food poisoning in Montreal, and found myself alternating between throwing up and sobbing (the French did at least help with the cleanup operation). But, travelling by myself is ultimately very freeing. I get to decide my timetable (read: start my days after noon), or maybe even extend my trip.
If I fancy some social time I might book into an art class or go to a language exchange (usually free, if you buy a drink at the bar it’s hosted in). But other than that, I quite like drifting – and starting one of the many books I carry around at home but never read.
I love a group trip, but travelling solo makes me pause, think, and stop nattering for a minute. I’m grateful for the peace – and for Duolingo.
