Recently I came across a story about how more and more people are taking vacations alone. Although it said those going sans husband/wife/friend/partner aren’t the majority, solo travel is gaining in popularity.
As someone who has traveled alone, I can understand why; no competing over what to see, no schedules to keep, no checking in. But at the same time, I look back at some of my experiences and wonder how they would have been different if I’d brought along a companion.
Aside from a few trips to Mexico (with friends), my very first out-of-the-country adventure found me—solo—on a flight to Istanbul, Turkey. Whenever this comes up in conversation, people almost always ask: “Why Turkey?”
To which I answer: “Why not?” I figured if I was going to jump into this idea of vacationing alone, I might as well go big—or stay home in San Martin.
At the time, Istanbul was a safe destination with lots of history to be explored. From covering my hair with a scarf in order to enter the Blue Mosque and exploring the city’s underground water cistern, to walking the streets alongside homeless dogs and taking a boat to the Asian side of the city, I grabbed the bull by the horns and ran with it.
Although I’d studied up on some Turkish, nearly everyone I spoke to was eager to practice their English with me. These friendly encounters set me up to sometimes be let down on future trips when I realized not everyone was as friendly as the Turks.
That initial trip built my confidence, and proved I was capable of taking on the world outside of Gilroy, San Martin and Morgan Hill.
When I found myself in the one place I’d wanted to visit since childhood—Athens, Greece—I felt confident in my ability to interact with various cultures and ride public trains, buses and boats.
As I tend to do prior to any vacation I take to another part of the world, I learned some basic Greek phrases: Good morning, good evening, thank you and a few others.
And I’m glad I did.
It was my experience that the Greeks were not overly friendly and had little interest in speaking English. Even hotel staff, with whom I attempted my best Greek, seemed put off by having to speak English to me on occasion.
Maybe the Greeks are so proud because the Greek Islands (my favorite was Hydra) and the Aegean Sea are without a doubt—so far—the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.
On a solo trip to Germany, I again found my native language was not warmly welcomed. Thankfully my German was just slightly better than my Greek, and came in especially handy when I took the U-Bahn to some small towns in my quest for further adventure.
I found some unwelcome adventure during a short rendezvous to Toronto, in the land of our northern neighbors. Following a difficult flight that landed after midnight, I picked up a rental car and headed toward the city.
But having a strong sense of direction is not my strength—and I got lost. In my attempt to get back to a highway, I turned right on a red light—which, unbeknownst to me, is illegal there.
And wouldn’t you know it? A Canadian cop was parked up the road in the dark and waved me to the side. Hoping for some sympathy, I explained I’d just gotten off a plane from California, was exhausted, hopelessly lost and had no idea a right on red was illegal.
He ticketed me anyway.
There are many stories I could share about my solo adventures and lessons I’ve learned, but I’ll end with my favorite. If Greece had the most amazing landscapes, Poland had the most amazing people.
Shortly after landing in Krakow, I was looking over a map on a train headed to the city center. A young man and his parents were sitting nearby, and perhaps I looked confused—confused enough that the young man asked if he could help with anything.
I gladly accepted his expertise in finding my difficult-to-locate hotel on the map, and after a lengthy conversation with him and his folks, their friendliness went to the next level. The three of them insisted on walking me to my hotel, pointing out landmarks, asking about the United States and sharing Polish history along the way.
But as much as I love to visit spots around the globe—solo or otherwise—it is true what they say: There’s no place like home, and for me, home is the sights, sounds and good people of the South Valley.
