I’m not entirely sure how I feel about the whole travelling solo versus travelling with friends dichotomy. I had the opportunity to experience both, and struggled and thrived in both cases. I thought I’d explore the advantages and disadvantages as a form of reflection on my trip, and as a means of ensuring that I don’t make the same mistakes twice.
Travelling alongside other people is such a fantastic way to see the world. It’s beautiful to be able to share experiences with someone; to see how their eyes light up the same as yours as you feast on stunning views and gorgeous cities. There’s someone to look at and feel half at home. You have a similar discourse and can bounce memories, ideas and opinions off each other so easily, because you’re coming from the same place, which is yet so different from everyone else around you.
Sometimes they serve as a kick up the ass when you’re getting lazy or discouraged. They’re the driving force behind the day’s activities, and get you moving when you’d otherwise have wasted time around the hostel. They often help to bring you out of your comfort zone as you’re forced to find the balance between doing things that you both enjoy, and depending on how different you are, this can result in some pretty challenging stuff.
My travel buddy and I were, I guess, relatively similar. We both had a strong desire to burst free of the strings that were holding us back at home, to explore wildly and to greet the unknown fearlessly. This meant that we were always tiptoeing around the knowledge that neither of us were there for the other. What I mean by this, is that we both wanted to make it clear that by no means were we to let the other negatively affect our travel experience in any way. We were merely some friendly company and a second opinion for travel convenience. I didn’t mind this, to be honest. I knew he’d take no offence if I told him I didn’t like an idea or plan of his, and he was then afforded this same understanding from myself, when he thought I was out of line or incorrect. We encouraged each other to mix and mingle with other people and didn’t hold each other back in social situations. What did eventuate however, was the inevitable sense of familiarity to each other that we felt. Though meeting strangers and chatting up hot randoms was enjoyable, there were plenty of times when we just found ourselves preferring to spend time in bars or clubs together, because it was easy and we clicked well. You can’t spend everyday with someone and not grow this attachment.
The negatives now. Like I mentioned about finding the balance between doing things that you both enjoy, obviously this poses some challenges. Financial situations can mean that you can’t afford the same activities. Your idea of a cheap dinner may differ wildly from theirs, or perhaps you fancy a [free] walk around a building as opposed to paying the fee to see the inside. Luckily we were both massive cheap skates and therefore had no objection to staying in the cheapest hostels or skipping out on expensive museums and tourist attractions. Instead, we both strived to make the trip about interactions with people. This is a great way to travel. We took every opportunity that we could to meet and experience people. Anyway, back to the negatives. So doing things you don’t want to do can get you in a bad mood or mean you may have to miss out on doing something you fancied. But generally, good things came of it. Actually, pretty much almost always. The only issues were in deciding what to do and then the initial unhappiness over the decision. Once we actually got going, we always had the time of our lives.
We made plenty of mistakes and had a tonne of stressful runs to train stations or bus stops, but no matter how badly something went, we were in it together. And that is such a comforting indulgence that we both took for granted. We were too absorbed in the shitness of a situation to realise how lucky we were to be in it together.
For me, it was nice just to have a second opinion on things. Is this the right stop, do you think? Left or right? This hostel with free breakfast or that hostel next to the train station? It was these smaller things that I missed when we then parted ways.
Half way through our time in Hungary, my travel partner took off to Krakow and I began planning my trip to Italy. I had been extremely excited to be on my own; however, waking up to find his bunk empty that morning was a real blow. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, hey. Lame.
There is an immense sense of freedom when you’re finally on your own. The realisation that no one is watching you, or following you (at least you hope not), waiting for you or holding you back. There’s also no one to talk to, so it was after this point of separation that I began to spend a lot of time talking to myself. It was freaking weird, to be honest, but I couldn’t help myself. Walking through the Budapest airport, muttering random, German nonsense under my breath; and then through Italy - but this time in Italian - planning my next sentence to the next shop keeper.
There were times when I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face, just completely euphoric to be walking around in a pretty city on my own. And then there were other times where I was stupidly close to tears as I craved the company of my previous travel buddies. There were also the more practical inconveniences that arose while I was on my lonesome. I no longer had anyone to laugh at my jokes or at me when I did something embarrassing. It’s always easy to offset the shame by sharing it with a friend; however, I now just had to deal with it and laugh at myself when I tripped on the cobblestones or food fell right out of my mouth while I was eating it. I also had to play audience to my own jokes, laughing under my breath to myself, after making a joke to myself. Pretty sad, really.
You have to rock up at bars completely alone, and therefore interrupt conversations just to get involved in them. It’s always a lot easier than you first expect, but even I got crazy feelings of nerves and resentment before taking the plunge. There will probably be times when you buy a bottle of cheap wine and drink most of it yourself before you convince a girl you’ve just met in the common room to finish the rest with you. Yeh, I’ve got to be honest, I often found myself in situations asking myself “how the heck did I get here”. But I was smiling.
Music is a terribly powerful musterer of nostalgia for me, and so I found myself most emotional on the long train/bus/plane rides when I’d tune in to my iPod and listen to the playlist I’d built while in Bali and Sri Lanka. The songs would take me straight back to Germany and Prague, where my most fond memories were made. Those times sucked a little.
And then I’d feel totally fine again when I was down at The Yellow Bar at my hostel in Rome, drinking with randoms and having a ball of a time. It’s funny like that.
I took my music with me a lot through Rome, and along with its nostalgic capabilities, it had a way of cheering me up instantly. I tuned out of my playlist and into my incredibly massive songs list, and was constantly surprised by the number of songs I’d forgotten that I loved. I sang to myself for the entire two and a half hour wait outside the St Peter’s Basilica, while simultaneously turning around in circles or bouncing my shoulders to keep warm. When your head’s full of nice sound, you’re not worried about the people around you. I continued with this activity on my metro rides as well.
On my last day in Rome, when I was a little down because I had no where to stay that night and I didn’t want to leave this beautiful country where I was just starting to really feel at home, music was what pulled me out of my little grey cloud. I hopped onto the blue line metro at Castro Pretorio as I had every day, and was more than pleased to be joined by a three-man band consisting of a violinist, a guitarist and a percussionist. In the crowded train, they then proceeded to play classical music for the crowds of people on their way to work, school or perhaps a day of sightseeing. That was one of my favourite moments. It set a great mood for the rest of the day.
But I’ve gone off track. To conclude this messy comparison, I actually don’t know which one I prefer. I think if you’re with the right person, travelling with a buddy would be the absolute highlight of your life. Any situation would be cause for a smile, no matter how grim or frustrating. Every sight is made twice as beautiful as you see it through their eyes and your own. People are drawn to the warmth, confidence and friendship that shines out of the pair of you. And there’s just always someone to look at and smile and know they’ll be smiling back. Holy flip, I’m deep.
And then as Tame Impala once said: “Company’s okay, solitude is bliss”. Solitude truly can be bliss, and the benefits of travelling alone are undeniable. Freedom and self discovery seem the main treats you’ll enjoy, not to mention you’ll have no one to help finish your gelato. You make twice the friends you’d make when with a travel buddy, as you’ll be trying to fill the void that is left in their absence. There is one issue with this. You arrive back at home and suddenly you’ve got to remember that there is social order, and that everyone already has their cliques and no one turns up to a bar on their own unless they’re a middle aged man/woman who knows he/she shouldn’t be there. You no longer have a back story to tell (I’m from Australia, just did a short program in Germany, am travelling around Europe and I’m in Rome until Sunday) because everybody knows you, or knows that Townsville is a small enough place that the options for a back story aren’t vast.
Ah well, life goes on. Lel. What will I write about now?
