Why Not Travelling Alone Could Be the Biggest Mistake of Your 20s
An experience to shape your entire life
It’s a rare thing, to have the time, money, energy and will to travel for an extended period of time. Let alone, alone. The younger you are, the more possible this usually is. The fear, thrill and anxiety of even just the idea is exhilarating but terrifying. Isn’t that what life is all about?
There is a lack of spontaneity in our generation because we’ve become so accustomed to the ease of being connected. There isn’t a need to try to make new connections. When you’re alone, this need becomes all the more prominent.
There are many young adults who possess the initial enthusiasm and yet it never comes to fruition. There isn’t enough drive to see them through. Funnily enough, most decisions in our lives are obstructed by the making of them. When you already know what you want to do, why bring logistics into it? Being young ensures you don’t quite have to yet. Like flipping a coin. At the last second, you know which side you want it to land on. No need to overcomplicate.
A lot of people, make a lot of plans. The less variables — the more certainty. If all you have to count on is yourself, you can follow any and every instinct in the direction of your choosing. This freedom isn’t something that our society allows us to exercise often or deem possible by any means. There are so many societal strings attached and we always feel as though we’re in constant debt to something or somebody. It takes a certain kind of mindset to break out of that thinking, even if it is only temporarily. It’ll remain within you forever.
There comes an openness with traveling alone. Over a period of time, being driven to a desperation for human contact. A willingness for new adventures and conversations. Being forced to go out of your comfort zone, (I know, how cliché). There is a reason why Shirley won’t shut about her gap year trekking through the rainforests of South America.
There is a power in feeling unsupported and your day-to-day future reliant on solely the decisions you make. No parent to pick you up or friend to offer a spare sofa for the night. The bed you make for yourself will quite literally be the one you lie in. This is especially beneficial for those trying to pave the way for themselves as freelancers or simply have no idea what they’re after. Upon return, there will be an answer. What better way than to travel somewhere far and unknown to let yourself be uncomfortable and inspired by the unfamiliarity. Perhaps, you’re learning a new language — move there for the summer.
A dingy old room in a humble, cramped house in the small town of Annecy, France. Population of 100,000 — small enough for English to not be as accessible as in Paris. Large enough for there to be enough entertainment for you throughout your stay. You create a little summer routine for yourself. Baguette in the morning, coffee at lunch time. You journal? To hell with it, noone else has their mac books out in the alfresco cafe’s. You’ve bought a hard back leather journal with ‘live, laugh, love’, embroidered in silver, on the cover. You decide that you’ll cover the embarrassing phrase with a memorable polaroid at some point. You look up; mountains outline the ridge of the town. You’re noting things down. You’re observing. There is nowhere to be. Nowhere to rush off to. No-one to meet. You’re listening.
A wild concept to come to terms with; nothingness. And yet sometimes it’s what we need. To allow your brain to seep through levels of your consciousness that you didn’t know were there. Life changing stuff — really. I like the analogy of an onion. You don’t know which layers you haven’t unravelled yet, until you do exactly that.
Most of us listen to our parents telling stories of their youth and it all seems quite scattered. Their countless stays at random places in the world with random people that they met at very random times. To us, it’s all very coincidental but looking back, it all links together. Do you ever wonder how in the world they’ve accumulated so many useful connections supplying free accommodation across the globe? Yes, they’ve had a lot more time on their hands. However, there is a lack of spontaneity in our generation because we’ve become so accustomed to the ease of being connected. There isn’t a need to try to make new connections. When you’re alone, this need becomes all the more prominent.
I was flying alone to Sydney a few years ago. Not only is this an awfully long venture already but an excessively long layover pushes it to excruciating levels. With a travel time from London ranging between 24–34 hours, I was to be going through Abu-Dhabi with a lengthy layover. I was getting an increasingly overwhelming urge to speak to someone. Anyone. The airport wifi didn’t work and anyone I could’ve tried to have called would’ve been asleep. The significance of every interaction began to matter. By the time we were two hours to landing, ever so close to the crystal blue waters of the Sydney harbour, I was considering striking up a conversation with the stranger sat next to me. He was right beside me the entire flight. Did this make it weird? ‘God’, I thought. Have I become my mother? That woman strikes up conversations with just about everyone.
The same thing happened when I first moved to LA. I didn’t know a soul and the smallest interactions with strangers were what kept me human until I made some friends in the city. I’m not a big phone call person, so my time wasn’t ever taken up with chatting or face-timing. This meant that any encounter with a kind soul who gave me more than a few seconds of attention or reason to open my mouth was more meaningful than ever. I’ve never again sniggered at a cheesy quote about being nice to strangers, since.
Maybe you’ll learn a skill. Maybe you’ll have an epiphany. Perhaps, you’ll meet the love of your life. It’d be a shame to not be an opportunist of freedom before the commitments of your 30s begin lingering ahead. It all starts with a ticket and no exact plan.
