traveling alone – Back in my parents' basement

As an extrovert, I thought I would hate traveling alone. It seemed natural that I would want someone with me to share experiences with – after all, the adage says that when you enjoy something with another person, you enjoy it twice as much. You have someone else’s perspective, you have companionship, and you have someone to reminisce with after it’s all over.

All those may be true, but each can also be a disadvantage. Another’s perspective can be a distraction, companionship requires resources, and memories are not always shared the same way.

You can focus your attention on what you want specifically.

When traveling with friends, I get easily distracted. I’ll get engrossed in conversation and miss the beauty or the culture happening around me. On my own, there are no timelines, no expectations, and no external distractions. My mind and my observations are my own.

On a hiking trip with some of my friends, I wanted to enjoy the quiet of the surroundings, stop and photograph lichens, dead trees, spider webs, and other bits of nature that fascinate me. My friends were on the hike for exercise and socialization. They worked up their cardio, swinging their arms, creating and expending energy with every swift and deliberate marching step. I perturbed them with my dawdling, trying to find a quiet moment to catch a brief glimpse of wildlife and snap a photo for my journal. By knowing I was slowing them down, I was completely distracted from what brings me joy on a hike, and vice versa.

In Beijing, my group had planned a day at a bazaar, so they could shop for deals and load up with gifts for friends and family back home. My preference was to wander the city streets, experience local pubs, and see the city from as many different perspectives as possible. I broke off from the group, as I often do, and lamented the fact that I had a deadline to meet back up with them. There was so much exploring to do, and having an agenda I had to follow took my focus off what was important to me. It was still a fabulous trip, don’t get me wrong – I just feel like I need to return to experience more of it!

Your schedule and your resources are all your own.

The freedom of solo travel is unmatchable. You can see what you want to see when you want to see it. You can eat what you want when you want. You can seek out company when you feel like a little conversation, or you can retreat without judgement or disappointment when you don’t. Best of all, your budget is your own. You use your resources however it suits you, and there is nobody who expects you to use them differently.

One evening in Italy, my group agreed on a restaurant. It was a fabulous place, but once we were seated, the complaints began. There’s no pasta on the menu, the wine is twenty euros a glass, they only have sparkling water, there’s no olive oil on the table. Each one of us had an expectation of what we wanted from the restaurant. As a solo traveler, you can choose the restaurant that ticks all your boxes.

On a practical level traveling solo is much easier. There’s only one appetite to appease, only one preference for attractions, and only one internal clock to determine the day’s agenda. The things that require concessions and compromises are no longer an issue. You are in charge of seeking out joy in every single moment.

You can enjoy things your own way.

You may enjoy the historical significance of your city, while your travel buddy may want to live it up, enjoying the freedom from homelife responsibilities.

On the first night of a girls’ getaway, after a very long day of travel, I and my two roommates agreed we would go to bed at a reasonable hour because we had been up at least 24 hours and had a morning activity planned. My roommates got caught up in the activities of the evening and came in at midnight; I had been asleep for three hours. As drunk girls do, they were bumping into furniture in the dark, shushing each other, laughing and giggling, and telling each other stories about things I absolutely didn’t want to hear.

Not only that, but they both were heavy packers and had to unpack their whole suitcases to find whatever they were looking for, so the room was a wreck. I’m a minimalist in almost every way, so this roommate relationship was being taxed on every level.

I unobtrusively gathered my things and got my own room. An angels’ choir sang for me as I entered my own, sweet little space with just enough room for me and my stuff. Peace descended and I slept like a baby, refreshed for the day ahead.

I want to stress here that the way these two were enjoying their vacation was 100% legitimate and perfect for them. They had the right and liberty to throw down all night long if they wanted. It just wasn’t for me. It was then that I realized, traveling solo is a gift from the gods, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

I have traveled with tour groups, with friends, with women, with a romantic partner, and with a best friend, and my favorite way to travel is by myself – bar none.

The experience of solo travel is transcendent.

In Nova Scotia, on a solo trip, I hiked a several-mile trail to the top of a cape that had a magnificent view. As I was climbing, I met a solo woman on her way down who had seen the view and couldn’t contain herself. She had to share her awe-inspired wonder at the harsh and bracing beauty of the Atlantic waves crashing against the steep, ragged cliffs. We were two strangers sharing a moment together – her in the telling and me in the anticipation of the experience. Our lives touched in an intimate moment, and then we moved on.

With solo travel, each of us experiences the pleasures of travel in our own way. No apologies or excuses are necessary, and no judgments are in order. Some like to wander and get lost while others like to plan and map their routes. Some prefer to experience culture through food, some through shopping, some through local interactions. Some like to relax fully strewing their clothes and belongings all over the room, while others like to live carefully out of their suitcase.

There are no rights or wrongs, but when two or more are together, there is compromise. Traveling solo allows you to immerse yourself in each moment with no compromises and no distractions. Only joy!

My trip to Nova Scotia was magical. I went alone and was concerned at first that I would want company — someone to share the epiphanies that come with experiencing something new. I realized quickly that traveling solo is absolutely delightful. You don’t have to run your plans by someone else. You eat what and when you want. Most importantly you do whatever appeals to you without the inevitable, “I don’t know, where do you want to go” back-and-forth that eats time and ends with compromise.

Nope, I woke up when I felt like it and hit the road. I wore no makeup the entire time I was there, so morning prep time was minimal. My plans were to see as much of the natural sights as I could pack into five days, to hike, and to meet new people. I stayed in Airbnb’s most of the time, and a motel one night. I rented a car and drove all along the coast from Halifax on the East Coast to Cape Breton in the North and back down to Bear River on the West Coast. There is a scenic trail that runs the perimeter of Cape Breton Island and the views were worthy of stopping every ten minutes or so to pull over and soak in the beauty. And oh, the trails! Some were simple and some very difficult, but none disappointed.

Staying in Airbnb’s was great. My first ever experience was with a newly married couple who were first time hosts. They were engaging and fun and very hospitable. They invited me to eat supper with them and we got cozy fast. It was a great first-time experience. The second stay was in an old miner’s cottage in the midst of repairs. It was a tiny two-story with a steep, narrow, curved, wooden staircase, and one bathroom with no shower. Back in the mining days, in the bitter cold winters, the homes had large grates in the second-floor floorboards to allow the heat to rise, and this house still had them. It was easy to imagine life in that home a hundred years ago. The last Airbnb I stayed in was a spectacular barn that had been remodeled into a beautiful home. It was on a vineyard and I arrived on harvest day, so the hosts were all a-bustle getting the grapes in before the rain. I spent a good amount of time wandering around the property in the rain, enjoying the blueberries, apples, pears and all the charm the estate had to offer.

The food was fantastic in Nova Scotia. Lobster rolls, chowder, poutine, which is really just French fries with gravy and fixin’s, but it was delicious. Seafood is copious, and the Digby scallops were so fresh and sweet. One really surprising thing to me is how many vineyards and wineries are on the peninsula. I partook. I did several tastings as well as a beer tasting at a brewery, and enjoyed every sip.

The views though – they were spectacular! The shores consisted of rounded stones the size of silver dollars and covered with orange moss that rippled in the wind and the shallow waves. There were sweet, colorful flowers I had never seen, and cattails, and moss hanging in deciduous trees. There were small waterfalls, herons, and quaint lighthouses along the peaceful coastal areas. And the Atlantic Ocean seemingly stretched out forever, like I was standing at the end of the world. The water was a deep azure and rather choppy, not at all like the Southern Alabama gulf beaches I know.

Driving inland was just as picturesque. It was October so the trees were oranges and reds and yellows, and the gently rolling hills were covered with farms. Red barns, perfectly manicured crops, and little white churches dotted the landscape, like pastoral scenes straight from a painting. As I drove north, the trees and scenes changed to more conifers and rockier landscapes. I hiked a trail called Cape Split that was a two-hour ascent to a sheer cliff that is meadow-topped and split right in the middle. The drop is 200 feet and there are no guard rails. You look straight down over the edge at the swirling currents that surround the obelisk-like rocks jetting up from the bay. The exhilaration of being that high and that close to the edge was conflicting. There was a definite feeling of freedom, but also of constraint. Ultimately it all gave way to a feeling of complete awe and respect for nature. It was spectacular!

What sticks out most about this trip is that I felt like I had time to breathe, to think, to relish the experience with all my senses, with no distractions. It was freeing, and the time was so precious. This was my first solo trip, and it has primed my adventurous heart for more. Thank you for the memories, Nova Scotia! I will always remember you fondly because you were my first.

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