I paced up and down the busy street, my anxiety growing with each step. I’d officially lost my hotel. I was alone, in a foreign country with a phone that wouldn’t work. Alone.
My heart raced and I fought back tears. ‘I knew you shouldn’t have come’, I told myself. ‘I’m never EVER travelling alone again’, I vowed. And I kept walking, looking up for my hotel. I reached a corner, and spotted a motorway and felt officially helpless. I turned around walked ten metres back up the street and into a building, and as fate would have it, it was mine.
I wanted to get down on that ground and kiss it, but I must have already been giving an odd vibe as the guard approached me and asked, “Miss, are you OK?”
“Oh, yes!” I smiled. I was more than OK. Ten minutes prior to that I was in a complete state of panic.
I marched straight to level 3 and got myself a fancy, relaxing massage to undo all the knots and tensions I just created from my first solo trip in big foreign city. As you do.
It’s only in the past year or so that I’ve really been bitten by the travel bug. We’ve always loved visiting new places, but my fear of flying has held me back. Before each plane trip I used to agonise over mortality. ‘What if I die?’ I’d continually ask myself.
Now I have better perspective. I still ask that question, ‘What if I die?’ but it’s quickly followed by, ‘But what if I didn’t truly live and fill my days with living?’ Deep, right?
On that trip to that big foreign city on my own {which was Malaysia for those wondering}, I spent the days before leaving excited but anxious about traveling alone. Well, travelling alone with a group of people I’d never met. It was one of my favourite trips. There are some pretty awesome perks:
∇ I could do what I wanted without having to make sure the rest of my ‘party’ was happy.
∇ I had a room to myself and a bed to myself. I could wake when I wanted, sleep on whatever side of the bed I wanted, and dance around the room if I wanted {which I may have done}.
∇ I’m an early riser, where Hubby and Lacey aren’t. So usually I lay around waiting for them to wake so we can finally go and have breakfast. Travelling alone means no waiting.
∇ Meeting new people. It’s kinda easier to engage with new people when you’re not caught up with your own people.
∇ Getting a massage without having to justify it. I am my own boss always. But there’s a big difference between announcing to the family that I’m ducking out for an indulgent treatment and just sauntering in to the salon without telling a soul.
∇ There’s something soul-satisfying about being in my own company, nurturing my soul and filling my days with new experiences. It’s hard to describe but it’s a little bit empowering.
∇ Oh, and mentioning to the air crew that I was a nervous flyer and scoring a whole row to myself on the way there AND back. Winning.{Not sure it will ever work again, but it was good while it worked}.
And the downfalls:
∇ Eating alone. I can do it with ease, but eating with friends is always much more fun.
∇ Reliving the memories isn’t as fun. It doesn’t work when I say to myself, “Oh remember that time we went to Malaysia and we did X and saw Y?” Yeah, doesn’t quite work.
∇ There were plenty of moments when I thought that I’d love to be sharing moments with someone I love. I kinda wanted the best of both worlds.
