May 2011

For the last few weeks, I’ve been fielding a lot of questions about my potential summer travel plans. Many of these discussions end with an incredulous look in my direction and comment about my ability to travel solo. I get a lot of, “I can’t believe you just go on your own!” or, “I could never travel solo!”

What amazes me is how much most people I’ve talked with do want to travel but don’t. Aside from the average American job’s lack of vacation time or choices about where to spend money, one of the biggest travel deterrents seems to be not having anyone to go with.

This may sound weird, but it pains me a little when people let something like that prevent them from doing the things they want to do. So I decided to write a solo travel for beginners series, starting off with seven reasons why it’s worth it to take a solo trip:

» To connect with places more deeply and foster your creativity

When I travel with people I know, I value the ability to interact with them in a different setting and the closer relationships that can come with that. At other times, I want to feel my way through a place. When I am alone in the middle of somewhere new, I’m much more able to tune into the nuances of a culture or the scenery. Solo travel’s built in need to sense and observe feeds my creativity.

» To meet people you would never otherwise meet

This seems like a given, but most people I come across who are unfamiliar with traveling solo often assume it means that you will constantly be alone. If I look back to my first solo trip, this was a fear of mine as well. But it turns out that that fear was unfounded. On the road, I mostly befriend 20- and 30- somethings with similar views on life and travel, but I’ve also made friends with local people, people significantly older or younger, and a few eccentric people. Solo travel has enabled me to make life enhancing connections with the people who everyday life probably wouldn’t have led me to connect with. When you’re away from home alone, you’re more likely to do away with the ridiculous criteria for friendship that you often inadvertently establish at home.

» To experience life at high speed

Life seems to move faster when you’re traveling solo. The surface-skirting small talk portion of friendship is usually bypassed and you might find yourself in deep discussions with people you’ve met just hours before. When you’re alone in a strange place, things that are everyday experiences for the people who live there might send you back to feeling like a child when everything seemed so new and exciting. You have to start from scratch in so many ways and in a very short period of time, adjust to unfamiliar people and places. For me, somehow this sped up life seems to stick, and things that happened in just a few days on the road can be as a significant part of my life as things that happened over the course of much more time at home.

» To challenge yourself

When I visited India, I was terrified every time I set foot in a train station or bus terminal. In fact, on every trip I’ve ever been on, I have unreasonable fears about not being able to catch the right bus or train at the right time. Airports are set up to be internationally understandable, but local transport is often a lot more esoteric. So when I take the bus or the train, I typically wish I had a travel partner to alleviate my worries. But there’s something about successfully getting from place to place on my own that thrills me. On trips where I have quite a bit of stops to make, when I get to my last destination, I want to shout, “I did it!” For me, transportation is often my biggest challenge, but there are plenty of other challenges to tackle on a solo trip like cultural immersion or simply learning to sit comfortably with your own thoughts.

» To have the freedom to experience your obscure interests

Are you an American who’s down to go to Cuba? Are you more inclined to discover gritty alleys full of street art than check out established museums? Are you anthropologically driven to explore cultures in remote parts of the world? Sometimes you’re pumped up about something that doesn’t appeal to everyone. Sometimes it’s more fun to take just your enthusiasm and to explore your interest on your own and find people who have similar interests once you get there.

» To choose your travel style and maintain your friendships

When I travel, I typically stay in basic hotels or hostels, eat street food, and take ground transportation as much as possible. While I have my moments of wanting to be more in a traditional vacation mode, this is largely the style of travel I want to stick to for now. Whenever people say to me, “I want to travel with you sometime!” I run this by them. While some people I know could absolutely hang with a budget travel style, I know a lot more people who are not willing to share accommodations with strangers, are squeamish and picky about food, want to fly everywhere, and don’t want to travel for more than a week or two at a time. I’ve seen others jeopardize relationships over vastly different travel styles (as in siblings who drove each other crazy, friends not talking for awhile after returning from a trip, etc.) and I don’t want to go there. Sometimes it’s better to go solo than travel with someone whose style has the potential to be incompatible.

» Because life is too short to wait until everything is “right”

If you’ve been thinking about going somewhere for awhile and the right travel partner with the right schedule hasn’t come along to join you, you might as well just go. If you’re able bodied, a travel partner is not a requirement for traveling the world. In the end, you’ll find that it’s easier to go for it and take the trip rather than to live with the regret of letting the opportunity pass you by.

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At times, Charleston was what I expected it to be. People moved slowly. There was heaps of Southern charm; people you’ve just met have a way of making you feel like they’ve known you your entire life. There was the church culture and beautiful colonial homes and the remnants of a segregated past that creeped into the present. It was apparent that the history has a much greater stake in the way things are there than it does in California where there’s much more of culture of focusing on what’s next.

But in a few ways, Charleston surprised me and challenged my California notions about the Deep South. During my brief visit, I noticed that there was surprising amount of racial mixing happening. I came across restaurants that proudly displayed their dedication to all things local, organic, and sustainable. And slow food and a slow lifestyle in general in Charleston seemed to lack the pretense that often accompanies it in California. There, you get the impression that people are doing things in a certain way because that’s what they’ve always done. There were also the tidbits of the Gullah culture that I saw. Before that trip, I hadn’t been aware of the fact that there was a place in the United States where a decent amount of the West African culture had survived.

I also wondered what kind of ghosts lurked underneath the surface; what I would find beneath those surprises and old school beauty and Southern hospitality. But what I experienced there was a beautiful extended weekend — gorgeous summer weather in the fall, a city that is quaintness personified, and of course, a really fun wedding.

So I left with just a small taste of a new part of the country for me. I left more ready and willing to explore that part of the country, to try to understand it, to not write it off so quickly.

A marshy area with a warning about coyotes.

The Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge viewed through some wispy plants.

Driving across the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge.

Signs and stoplights at an intersection on one of Charleston’s main thoroughfares.

Colonial houses and yellow flowers near the Charleston Harbor.

It was disturbing to see celebration of the Confederacy.

An SUV adorned with the classic South Carolina greeting.

An art deco movie house that’s been restored and is now used for events.

A chef mans the wood fired pizza oven at Monza restaurant.

Restaurant patrons and the menu at Monza.

Colorful foliage.

The shadow of an ornate gate.

A row of buildings on Broad Street.

Strange (creepy?) statues in front of a building that was once a bank but is now a condo complex.

The historic Dock Street Theatre in Charleston’s French Quarter.

Red shutters, flower boxes, and an anchor decorate an aging house in the French Quarter.

A South Carolina flag hangs in front of a South Carolina Electric and Gas Company building.

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I frequently find new songs to add to my music collection, but it’s not often that I come across an artist that I can fully get behind. Though finding a new artist is obviously not as exciting as traveling to some out of the way destination, when I do, I feel a delicious sense of discovery akin to exploring a new place.

A few months ago, I discovered and fell in love with the folksy Americana music of Nathaniel Rateliff. I downloaded his album, In the Memory of Loss, and have been listening to it regularly. It’s the kind of album that I like more with each listen.

Whether he’s singing in his Jonny Cash-esque low range or wailing at the top of his range, his vocals are piercing. With a unique and solid voice, his songs are free to be bare, minimally produced, and gimmick free.

A few weeks ago, I saw him perform in San Francisco when he opened for another artist. There was a loud audience that wanted to talk until the opening act came on stage. Despite the noise, he gave an impressive solo performance using just a few guitars and his voice. He is legit.

Many of the songs on his album have a gorgeous and gritty melancholy edge to them, but one of my favorites is the most upbeat, a song called “Laughing”. It’s the perfect song for movement, for taking off, for being unconfined — even when you’re tied down.

So far it’s been my Sunday afternoon anthem. I listen to it as I fold laundry, wash dishes and try to make the most of mundane tasks and the few hours of the weekend I have left.

Now, my summer break and travel are quickly approaching and I wanna listen to it on road trip with my windows rolled down. I wanna listen to it at the airport surrounded by the energy of the coming and going. I wanna listen to it on the roof of a hostel over a local beer while surrounded by an international crew of travelers who’ll be my friends for a moment or maybe more…

And in a more lighthearted setting, complete with a chorus of hippie/hipstery friends:

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