Travelling Alone

"You know what no one ever talks about?"

A friend asked me.

"What's that?"

"The lonely times. The gaps when nothing's going on and you want to be home."

I've been thinking about that a lot lately and she was right. It's a dirty secret that we don't bring up, that travelling alone and living abroad isn't always what our posted pictures seem to be. The holidays can be especially tough when you're living four thousand miles away. Bus rides through the countryside can be bleak when it's dark and raining and you're tired and every mile is taking you further away from your friends. That's where I found myself a couple days after Christmas. Taking a night bus from Dublin to Kilkenny to see some more of Ireland before I flew back to Madrid.

For some reason the aloneness of where I was hit me. Any immunity I had to loneliness had been wiped out by the closeness of family and late night talks with my uncle and playing with my little cousins over the past week. Now here I was again, about to stay the night in a hostel in a town I didn't know, way out in the rainy Irish countryside.

After I dropped my stuff off at my hostel I walked into town to grab dinner. Eating alone that night I realized something about travelling alone. It forces you to think about the people you want to be with. Whoever you're having that imaginary conversation with, whoever you want to be using your shoulder as a pillow on a long journey through the country. It makes you really think about who you want to spend your time with.

Now that I've been alone for close to four months I've had long talks by myself with ghosts of people back home. I've laughed thinking of what I was going to tell my brothers and sister about my most recent trip. I've had my shoulder ache in a bar, wanting to put it around the person I love. You see so many amazing things abroad, you meet so many interesting people that sometimes you have to stop yourself from turning around and telling something to the person that isn't there. The one you can't see for six more months that's back home.

I haven't found a vaccine for this ache yet. All I can do is try and keep myself moving forward. Get myself out of bed, see new things, keep pushing myself to learn and explore despite it. When you get home and you're back in that comfortable warmth where you belong, you'll have plenty of stories to tell and adventures to share, and you'll be more appreciative of the people you left behind when travelling alone.

Why I'm leaving

     The last month has been full of goodbyes. I said goodbye to the amazing friends I worked with for over six years, my family, and all of the friends near and far who have supported me throughout this decision. It seems strange now that just four days until my flight the reason WHY I'm leaving has become obscured. Six months ago when I was applying to the BEDA program  it was all so clear: drinking a beer in a sun drenched plaza, seeing the Mediterranean, bull-fights, sleepless train rides, and the freedom to be anonymous. Now the vision is clouded by the press of goodbyes, as if this whole time I've been walking backwards away from it. A fog rolls in and the logistics of what I'm about to undertake confront me.
     So I think I need to take the time to remember the reasons why I'm leaving.
     Travelling is not a selfless pursuit. We call attention to our conspicuous absence  by our empty chair at Thanksgiving or the presents left wrapped under the Christmas tree. So I can't really use the excuse that my leaving will somehow be better for the people I leave behind. I'm going to miss weddings, birthdays, and births. I might not be there when a friend calls and needs help or to help cheer up my brothers or sister when they have a bad day.
     If that's the case then maybe it's the experiences I will have that will be worthwhile to them when I make my way home. Maybe it's the challenge of seeing how adaptable you are when you're stripped of comfort, financial security, and your ability to communicate. Maybe it's the rush of having a few clothes rolled up in a backpack with your passport and no plan that makes travel so alluring. Maybe it's the chance to feel fear, and to overcome it, to start from scratch, learn something new, recapture your youth, meet new people, recommit to your curiosity, fulfill a promise to your twelve year old self that said that no matter how uncomfortable it may be, or scary, a normal 9-5 just isn't going to cut it. Maybe it's all of these things.
     These are just the final death throes of the me that thirsts for control of any situation, and the growing pains of a new life abroad.
     I leave for Madrid in four days. I'm terrified and exhilarated to start this new chapter of my life and so thankful that I have people in my life that make this a difficult decision.

     So I guess I'm leaving so that I can come home again. Ready to share my experiences with the people I care about.

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -- Mark Twain