The trials, tribulations and amazing situations experienced by a solo traveller. Photo / 123RF
The trials, tribulations and amazing situations experienced by a solo traveller. Photo / 123RF
In a week that will see a slew of grand Valentine’s Day gestures, enjoy a collection of first-hand experiences that prove solo travel is an equally dizzying love affair, writes Anna Sarjeant
Language barriers mean nothing
I once booked myself into a lodging on a remote hill, at least 10km from the centre of Bologna in Italy, only to discover there were zero other guests. Alone, and with nothing but stray dogs in sight, I bused into town for some action.
Later that night and pre-smartphone (and Uber), I needed to catch the last bus back up the hill or I’d be stranded, yet when I attempted the return journey, the driver wouldn’t let me on. He wanted exact change. Which I didn’t have.
Cue a frenzy of Italian commotion; a handful of locals flapping their arms and gesticulating at both myself and the bus. Eventually, someone swapped me a note for some coins and I was allowed to alight – a wave of relief rushed over me, followed by a solid 20 minutes of jubilant, non-coherent discourse with a fellow passenger (and main instigator in getting me on the bus). He said only seven words on repeat, the only English words I suspect he knew: “Let’s go! Rolling Stones, 1978!” while simultaneously punching the air. I replied with “Bellissimo” and it was - in that moment - the best conversation I’ve ever had.
Solo travel: All fun and games until you get stranded. Photo / Getty Images
Unique encounters
One week before I was meant to embark on an Everest trek (to base camp, not the summit - I’m not a lunatic), alongside at least a dozen other hikers on the tour, I was contacted by the company to see if I was bothered about drastically reduced group numbers. Specifically, a grand total of one. Even more specifically, just me.
Having already spent hundreds on thermals, I replied with the email equivalent of a shrug. Why not.
My iPod - you may laugh but you can’t beat a battery that lasts for seven days - was a welcome distraction while plodding uphill, alone, behind my Sherpa.
However, at every tea break and mountain lodge I was met with inquisitive kindness from other walkers who wanted to know why I was hiking solo. Although I had no “Eat Pray Love” soul-searching story to share, I met a host of characters I’ll remember forever. From the pair of loud and lairy 75-year-old retirees who were the living incarnation of Statler and Waldorf (of Muppets’ fame) and invited me to sit and eat key lime pie, to the family of my Sherpa who showed me how to make Nepalese momo on their kitchen floor, it was the perfect balance of solitude and sanity-saving socialising.
Everest for one. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
Independence feels rewarding
Ain’t nobody else going to get you out of the tricky situation you find yourself in. Or figure out the complexities of the New York subway; or quickly calculate a taxi fare in Vietnamese dong to ensure the driver doesn’t take you for a ride, both literally and metaphorically. When travelling with others, an element of laziness creeps in – why figure out the ferry times if someone else will? And yet, when forced to react to a situation independently, you will. Do or die (but hopefully not). The anecdote here? In 2006, I got lost in Hangzhou, China – a city of 10 million people – in a thunderstorm, without a working phone and very basic Mandarin. But fortunately, not so basic I couldn’t write “help” in a notepad. And help the Chinese people did. Hence I’m here writing this story, and not selling magic tricks on a Hangzhou street corner.
Ain't no one else going to read that map for you. Photo / Getty Images
You’ll meet strange people and share even stranger stories
There was the dapperly dressed Italian man, of senior years, who told me he was (ahem) a Gucci model scout and if I dropped two stone, we’d rule the runway in Milan. Later, his nephews – doubled over in laughter – spluttered that he was a Florence street artist. And not a very good one. Then there was the gaggle of police officers in Buenos Aires, who, upon hearing how my camera had been stolen in a con you can read all about on Wikitravel, completely fabricated my police report so I wouldn’t be scammed (again) out of an insurance payout. Two hours scribbling notes in a police station using broken Spanish and fabricating fantastic lies. Best experience I had in Buenos Aires.
You’ll find a sense of humour. Fast.
Like when your train stops in Rome and in a rush to get off before the doors close, you drop your bag and a brigade of ladies’ sanitary products drop out and roll down the middle of the carriage. And because you have a heavy backpack strapped to your torso, bending over to quickly retrieve said products results in collapse. If you can’t laugh at two men and one woman picking both you and your personal items off the floor, what can you?
