traveling alone

sadly, this is the only surviving picture from my first trip abroad. i believe the phrase on the chalkboard translates to, “i am a rubber panties woman.”

The first time I traveled alone was when I was 20. I had a volunteer gig teaching English in Slovakia and Hungary for three weeks each, and I decided to take a couple weeks before that to bounce around Western Europe. Not only was I completely convinced I was going to be raped and murdered, I also felt like a total loser because I couldn’t afford to go with my friends on an expensive tour package. 

But shortly after I arrived, I discovered the unexpected benefits of solo travel, in the form of 10-cent dinner rolls at a bakery in Berlin.

“10 cents?” I asked incredulously.

“Ja.” 

And that’s how I ate for two days in Berlin on one Euro, with no one around to shame me.

For fun, I walked to all the free attractions listed in the Lonely Planet. At the East Side Gallery, I met a Sudanese refugee named Ouda. We smoked a joint on the banks of the Berlin River, and he told me about fighting in Darfur.

“I saw too many dead bodies,” he said. “Too many arms and legs. It was real bullshit.”

I thanked him for sharing his story with me, and we split a dinner roll. Later that night in the hostel lounge, these two German guys shared their beer with me, and I goaded one of them into writing me a love poem.

For the love that she from me took / Her hair was blond, her name was Brooke…

Traveling alone means there’s no one to protect you from all the most interesting parts of travel.