I traveled to Italy solo this weekend. On the 10-hour night train back to Austria, I shared my seating compartment with 4 guys (on the train to Italy it had been 4 stinky men but these guys didn’t smell). We swapped travel stories. One of the young Turkish guys traveling with his buddies asked me, “Don’t you get tired of traveling by yourself?”
“It’s okay, but sometimes I’m scared.” My immediate response jumbled out of my mouth, and in that actual moment, I was calculating if I would feel safe enough with these unknown men to sleep some of the 10 hours I had on the train. The guys nodded, and they proceeded to tell me how one of their bags had almost been stolen at the station we had just left. They understood the scary factor, too.
Straight up. Life is not what I thought it would be. It’s been surprisingly delightful, bubbling laughter from me at the funniest times, but it’s also been shockingly difficult, brushing pain through the humdrum days between exciting travels or sudden adventures.
My life hinges on expectations.
This thought came to me suddenly in the darkness of the night as my train thundered its way to the Italian border, a country I’d never been before with no one to meet me at the train station at 3:30 in the morning. When I frame up life’s little scenes and moments in expectations, I’m the one jolted by disappointment when my carefully assembled expectations aren’t met.
When you travel alone to an unknown place, you can only be prepared so much. Google maps can only show a moment frozen in time from who knows how long ago. And sometimes it warns you that the path might not be suitable for walking. I’m fairly distrustful of Google maps, but if it tells you the path may be unsuitable for walking…just listen.
Seriously. I decided it would be a nice day to walk from Venezia Mestre to Venezia St. Lucia. Two hours? Easy! It didn’t seem daunting because I was wearing my awesome sneakers, and I had my thoughts for company. If you want hours of entertainment, borrow my brain. No, don’t. That’s a terrible idea.
Anyway, let’s just say that Google proved true, and suddenly the sidewalk ended in an overgrowth of weeds and trash. Idiot stubborn Barbara refused to turn around, and so I forged ahead. The story ends with me getting on a bus and deciding never to do that whole idiot stubbornness again. Save yourself and don’t be idiot stubborn.
Back to expectations. I expected that the first night I’d be met by the 24-hour receptionist at the hotel I’d booked. I also expected there to be a sidewalk because Europe is all about pedestrians and cyclists. I expected to wander around Venice completely alone.
But the hotel was completely locked when I arrived. No stirring. No slipper-clad, sleep-eyed attendant to open the door for me. 4 am. And no where to go. I checked in at the first hotel I found open. And then, my jaunty walk to Venezia St. Lucia ended in overgrown weeds and trash. At my hostel, I met two Chinese girls I ended up going around Venice with. Travel is a minute-by-minute adjustment of expectations. That can be hard on me.
Open hands. Approaching life with open hands and no expectations is empowering, though, because then I’m ready for anything: the good, the bad, the surprises, and gut-reactions.
So back to the question: “Don’t you get tired of traveling by yourself?”
Sure, it is tiring to travel by myself. It means hauling my purse with me to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and never being able to set my things down without actively keeping an alert eye for possible thieves because I’m the only one who will keep an eye on my stuff and me. It means always being very aware of my surroundings and those around me. It means having no one to share funny moments with or the scary moments with.
Yet, I’d not change these travels. These solo moments allow me to gain confidence in my ability to problem solve and care for me. Because now I know that I can live life with hands open, releasing my expectations for myself, my travels, my life, and my friends and family.
