Ah, the joys of the wind in your hair, light bursting in the window, and your stuff all around you. No, this is not a glorious beach trip. The wind is the world’s most frigid, courtesy of a puddle-jumper long haul from Shreveport to Atlanta where you cannot close the damn plane window because it is STUCK and there’s no overhead bin space left so yes, that is all of my things shoved under the seat in front of me.
Ain’t it beautiful?
Traveling is a curious action. It is done for every reason imaginable and has all sorts of stories. Most of them are good, but somehow only the bad eggs get noticed. That is why when I mention I have travelled alone, most people are surprised. The most common question that I get is “how safe will it be?” as if I’m not concerned for my own personal being. It’s understandable for those I love to be concerned; it is not acceptable for them to assume I do not have my best interests in mind.
“How safe will it be?” as if I’m not concerned for my own personal being.
Going solo is not a decision to regret. It’s difficult, and I will never recommend walking, in siesta hour, from the bus station in Granada to the old town after just a couple of cookies for lunch. However, that experience humbled me. Any solo travel, if done with your best interests in mind, will humble the traveler and encourage growth in any given direction. There are caveats, of course: one may not know what their best interests are, nor might they be interested in traveling alone. After all, every individual is different and has varied needs. So, how might any average person proceed?
In Any Case 