Rome, Italy, 2014
I spent a day alone in New York. There were 4 of us, but on the 8th of February I told the girls that I wanted to explore the streets on my own.
“We will meet for dinner at Nanoosh on Madison at 7, okay?”
Starting off on the Avenue of The America’s, I walked from Central Park all the way to SoHo, passing about 456 Starbucks outlets, 234 Staples Stores and about 456 hot dog carts. I had that feeling where my chest felt like it was going to explode, or perhaps implode, whatever. I felt like I was drowning and I need to keep gasping to make sure I was breathing. Overwhelmed. So overwhelmed. I was taking it all in.
I walked into stores that I was not intending to buy anything from. Who cares?
I changed my mind about what to have for lunch about 30 times. So what?
I was by myself.
A policeman approached me when I was taking a photo of Radio City Music Hall.
Uh oh. Am I not allowed to be doing this?
“Girl you should be in the photo, otherwise nobody on facebook would believe that you were here, they will think that you took the picture from Google images.”
Phew!
I agreed with the policeman, and so I asked his partner to take a photo of the two of us together- and then he kissed my cheek and gave me directions to TriBeCa.
They were at Nanoosh at 7. I was running late so I hailed a cab.
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I recently travelled on my own to Canada and Europe. Why alone? I really do not know. It just turned out that way.
To be frank, I did not believe that I would travel solo. Sure, I booked it on my own but I thought that someone would come with me, or at least meet me somewhere.
I invited (actually I begged) mum over and over again and her answers were always inconsistent:
- Yes okay ill come
- No I cannot I am going to Thailand for work
- Yes okay I will meet you in Barcelona
- No I have to pay for staff to cover both you and I and it will be too expensive
- Yes okay, this will be a nice experience
- No it is too cold
- Yes okay I will come but not shop just to sight see
- No I will be too tired.
So I went on my own.
It was meant to be this way. No mum, no sister, no friends…just me. I watched at the airport as loved ones took the photographs of their excited friends, relatives and lovers in front of the big DEPARTURES sign. I would have loved one, but there was nobody to take my picture.
I never pitied myself. My courage astounded me.
I was alone but I only truly felt lonely on a few occasions.
“Lonely” does not mean being alone. You can be surrounded by thousands of people and still be lonely. Lonely and alone are different. Lonely is that place in your heart, next to where you find sad. Lonely is something that your soul feels on. Being lonely means feeling disconnected from everything and everyone around you, and being misunderstood. There have been many times when I have been with many people and have felt so lonely. The pit of your stomach rises and you feel your heart slows down and beat faster simultaneously.
I felt lonely in Barcelona when I couldn’t eat an authentic Spanish Tapas meal. Tapas is a selection of small entrees, and at most restaurants you needed to order a minimum of three dishes, which was way too much food if you were by yourself. But on my last day I decided I would eat at a Tapas bar in Port Vell, even if I did not finish everything. How could I come all the way to Spain and not try it? Before attending to me, the waiter took the order of the couple next to me. Everything they ordered sounded amazing! Gumbo, potatoes, salsa, bread and salads. YUM! So I did the unthinkable.
“Should I, shouldn’t I?”
I did it. I imposed myself on them, offering to pay if I could share their meal. I forgot their names, but lets call them Clive and John. Clive was a British Airways flight attendant, and John was his partner, in Barcelona to visit him during a stop over because they had missed each other.
Shit, I totally imposed on their reunion date!
I felt lonely on the way to Rome. I sat on the plane and, albeit trying so hard to stop them, tears rolled down my face. I was lonely and alone. I yearned for somebody, anybody.
Valentines Day. I was extremely alone and lonely. Next to the Spanish Steps there was a cute teahouse, but they charged TEN EUROS for a cup, so I swiftly power walked out and sat a restaurant in the Piazza Di Spagna. What really drew me here was the “FREE WIFI” sign plastered on the wall. To my left was a young couple gazing at one another from across the table. They were not alone or lonely. Again, I intruded.
“We are from London and thought Rome would be a romantic getaway, just for Valentine’s Day, something different.”
Half your luck.
To my right were two girls, chatting enjoying a glass of wine over risotto. I wished I had someone to talk to instead of straining my neck by looking down at the screen of my iPhone, typing to someone half way across the world at what was probably a ridiculous hour.
Did I wish I could also be seated with someone? Sure!
Did I enjoy being on my own, wondering the streets, halting at every corner to take a photo? Definitely!
“Lonely” - such an ugly word. It resonates a feeling of despondency and sadness. So many people called me “crazy” and “brave” because I was alone and that was okay . This trip was not about embarking on an inner journey, or a pilgrimage or anything like that. Travelling alone was about showing the world who I was, and that even though I was alone, I could tackle its streets and converse with its people. And I did.
The world showed me that no matter where I was the nature of people was the same. I was able to see this because I was alone. I was alone so I relied heavily on the compassion of strangers. Sometimes, we could not even talk to each other, but their kindness made sure I understood. I asked for directions, instructions on how to use the metro and even tips on where to eat. Being alone meant that I was able to recognize and experience their compassion. This is why I went alone, because I loved the way the policeman made me feel when he realized that Google could provide me with images, and thought it was important that I be in my photos too. The thoughtfulness of that policeman, and everyone else made me glad to be human.
Do I want to travel with someone? Sure, of course I do, but I feel like it was necessary for me to do this on my own. I needed to restore my faith in the kindness of people and mostly restore my faith in myself. I wanted to show myself how brave and smart I was. Through the process of growing up and the struggle and heartache that has come with it I had forgotten my strength. Embarking on this amazing adventure brought it all back. I am so proud of myself. So many people told me that they would not be able to do it alone and that I was crazy. I am a little bit mad - I have to be to travel across Europe alone. I am alone sometimes but never lonely because I have myself and that is all I ever really need. I mean, I am too bad to be around…
