After leaving my firm at the end of November, I was able to spend a few weeks in December traveling alone.
It was something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time — I never studied abroad or took a gap year but always felt I was missing that experience. The truth is I’ve been proactive about traveling and have seen much of the world now, but I’ve never done it alone and was curious to see how that would feel, where I would grow, and if I would like it.
In returning, I’ve realized so much of traveling alone is about discovering yourself even more than it is about discovering the world. My experience was surrounded by the beautiful sights and sounds of the Milford Track in New Zealand, but I could have been anywhere and found beauty and value.
A few of the things I learned during my short jaunt abroad:
- Your comfort zone isn’t static. My first night in a hostel alone was lonely and uncomfortable, but by my last night I was comfortably introducing myself to roommates, even those with whom I didn’t expect to form friendship. My first time at a bar alone 7,100 miles away from home felt uncomfortable, but I learned to embrace that feeling or to change it by approaching a stranger or (a bit easier…) chatting with the bartender. My first few hours without WiFi or cellular on the Milford Track felt exposed and vulnerable (talk about addiction); I even kept my bricked phone in its usual front pocket as if I needed it for moral support. By the 5th day, I was dreading turning it back on.
- In that same mindset, I learned just how ok it is to be disconnected. 5+ days without email, messaging, ‘gramming, tweeting, news’ing, and still the world didn’t end. The government shutdown, but the world didn’t end. It was a reminder of what Aziz Ansari suggested, “if something real is going down, I’ll find out about it.” (This is admittedly easier when funemployed…)
- No phone, no social crutch! Meet strangers. Talk to people. Or, even better, be totally ok alone! Without cellular, there’s no point in checking your phone when you walk into a crowded room alone. I wonder how many of my iPhone pickups are intentional versus ways to kill time or kill awkward situations. When your phone can’t do anything except take pictures, there’s no reason to pull it out without purpose. I’d like to continue to use my phone with intention instead of by habit. I learned to appreciate sitting in a room and observing, saying hi to a stranger, or even eating alone (sorry, Keith).
- Perhaps one of my favorite parts of solo travel was that by definition no one knows who you are. This meant on days where I felt sad or just introverted and thoughtful, I could sit quietly by myself and no one would bother or assume I was unhappy because for all they knew, that was my standard behavior. On days where I felt more my usual self (extroverted and social), I could strike up a conversation over the smallest thing (weather, hobbies, commonalities, etc.) and break the ice with a new friend.
- With that in mind, . No matter how small, they can go a long way. On one of my lonely days, a smile from a stranger in the hallway turned around the whole afternoon. On another, a local offered me recommendations in a coffee shop and made me feel both welcomed and familiar at once. On a bus, someone sat next to me and it felt like a gift instead of a punishment. All of a sudden, I enjoyed chatting with Uber drivers. You never know when someone needs it.
Expanding your comfort zone can be an exhilarating and often frightening experience, but once you’ve done it, the good news is those uncomfortable and courageous experiences fall squarely into your new and improved comfort zone.
It felt like I had found peace — like time was mine again and not that of push notifications. This has pushed me (#punintended) to reevaluate my phone time as I return home to my normal, tech-forward lifestyle.
The important news makes its way around the world, perhaps slightly delayed, and the rest of the daily content is mostly just noise.
It’s only people who know you who expect a certain behavior of you.
I learned the importance of receiving random acts of kindness while traveling alone and it made me vow to be more intentional about giving them
The luxury of solo travel is that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. The detriment is that sometimes what you want to do (have dinner with friends!) is hard to achieve on your own. My experience was a constant tug-of-war between these two desires on opposite ends of the same spectrum: social or antisocial. I settled in on a “come what may” mindset where I’d be equally content alone or meeting people; aware that these would lead to entirely different experiences, but that these differences were part of the journey I was having.
We all have a choice in the paths we take and that became more clear to me this trip. Meeting friends and acquaintances my age, across the world, with totally different lifestyles than mine but just the same sense of purpose, happiness, and fulfillment forced me to acknowledge that every day is an active choice. How we choose to spend our time is our responsibility because no one else will live with the repercussions. It’s impossible to say which is the “right” path so I’ve decided on just saying this is the right one for me, for now. I’d love to live multiple lives so I can explore all of these paths. Stepping away from the rat race of western society for a few weeks was a good reminder that values and motivations differ all over the world. In many places, it seems people work to live. In the US, we often live to work.
I’m the first to admit I’m guilty of this. I like to joke that I’m not good at moderation — I’ll do something with intensity or not at all. This applies to hobbies, friendships, but even more so with work. I’m challenging myself to bring more moderation into my daily routine. I shouldn’t need to leave my job and travel to the other hemisphere just to learn how to have an “off switch” and to have the courage to actually flip it.
In traveling and funemployment, I’ve had time to think more closely about the things I love to do. The things that bring me joy when I have nothing I have to do. I’m happy to say I do all of them even during my routine life, but I can be better about doing them with more commitment and ferocity.
For me, these things include:
- Listening to and discovering new music
- Creating playlists for loved ones and myself
- Seeing live music
- Reading — especially biographies and long form non-fiction
- Solitude — I’m an extrovert, but I’ve realized how much I can grow from the moments of solitude and independence in between social moments
- Being outdoors — especially hiking and cycling
- Waking up to the sun
- Writing — both poetry and prose
- Finding community — surrounding myself with people of shared interests
As 2018 comes to an end, I’m reaching an age where time seems to come in half-decades and decades rather than in years and I’m glad to have had the privilege over these last few weeks to recount, reset, and revitalize what I value most. These extended times of transition and reflection don’t come often for most or ever for many, so the underlying thread of my experience was gratitude in knowing that I’m one of the few able to have even had this experience at all.
To 2019, come what may.
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