Ahh, yes. The question that always rears its nosey head into every conversation with every new person I meet. It’s no secret that I’m a small-talk enthusiast, and when you’re breaking the ice and learning general information about a person, as well as asking questions that lead to the current reasoning behind their existence in front of you at that very moment in time, the question “Wait... so you travel all by yourself?” always finds it way to center stage.
But the biggest concern about all of this of course, is am I safe? How exactly can I ensure my safety? Are my testicle-kicking skills up to par? Yes, yes, and you better believe, YES. And I will address all of those later, because the reality is you can never be 100% safe anywhere. Whether surrounded by all your loved ones, or in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country. Danger has no biases, and whether in your home town or half way across the world, you’re at risk daily anyway. So the mentality of fearing for your safety really needs to be a mental shift and acceptance that you can only control so much.
But in answering this question, I’ve learned to recite a generic response trying to be as concise as possible because liquid courage usually has me telling novels when in reality, it’s not so complex. Allow me to explain...
It’s been said that you will never want to kill someone more until after you’ve traveled with them. Actually, I don’t think that’s how the saying goes at all, but it might better corroborate the point I’m trying to make. When you’re with a group of friends, no matter how big or small the number, you’re constantly going through a cycle of catering to everyone else’s needs and making sure they are happy and fed. Where, when, and what to eat is always a big debate. Oh, if only our appetites could all sync together and generate hunger at the same moment in time. Unfortunately, life is cruel and doesn’t really work out that way. This isn’t to say I don’t enjoy other people’s company, but when I truly want to enjoy myself, nothing beats good ol’ quality “me” time.
Secondly, I’m a photographer. I will almost NEVER rush through a site or activity without taking
1.2 1.1 million pictures of it first. Again, this goes back to my first point about how you’re constantly having to worry about how the next person feels, if their feet hurt, and if they’re living up to every stereotype of a typical American tourist. But also, the last thing I want to be is a burden. My brain is a bit weird and it’s now programmed my eyes to frame pictures as I walk -- eyes like a shutter, mind like a lens. We could be climbing the tallest mountain in the world, and if you feel like 30 minutes will suffice for this incredible experience that maybe 5% of the human population will get to experience, then God bless you and good day. Excuse me as I take a moment to bask in the beauty,
take a shot from my smuggled canteen, and indulge in the scenery and try out different ways to capture it to savor for many years to come. But alas, that’s the LAST thing some people want to do. So while I enjoy hearing complaints of irregular bowel movements, your one-of-a-kind hangover, or Eeyore-prone feet, can we at least wait until we’ve climbed back down the mountain? Cool. I’ve gone several days without sleeping while traveling in the past, simply to maximize the time I have in a country. Is it healthy? Of course. Doctors recommend it! Ha, maybe not. But it’s a temporary sacrifice I was willing to make and now have incredible memories because of it.
Thirdly, a
s a solo traveler, you are ALWAYS approachable! I’m not saying this should be your #1 motivation,
nor am I saying it shouldn’t, but a man is much more likely to approach you knowing that
if, but moreso when he gets rejected, it’s only in front of you and not three of your buddies too. There are also thousands of other solo travelers just like you who you meet and really hit it off with because you can relate on so many levels to the highs of being on your own and doing things on your own account. It’s such a liberating feeling to wander the streets of a foreign country by yourself knowing that you can literally get into as much or as little damage as you well please, and the worst thing that could happen from it is
getting deported having to go through your camera the next morning to
regret relive those glorious moments.
So why is it that I feel so confident and safe on my solo journeys? It’s simple. I’m not stupid. I don’t put myself in situations or surround myself with people who give off even the slightest bit of an endangering vibe. I’m a strong believer in being responsible for the energy you bring and keep around you. When traveling, your faith in humanity is constantly restored by the Good Samaritans, generous souls, and kind-hearted people from around the world who are always willing to help you with directions in their broken English or simply offer the best thing a person halfway across the world can, an enlightening and intellectual conversation.
It probably helps that I’ve been involved in collegiate sports and weight training, so the fact that I can bench the average teenager’s body weight is a great advantage. And while I’ve never had to kick anyone in the cojones groin to fend for myself, I’m sure it’d be a ball if I did. Get it? A ball? BALLS. Hehehehe.
Ok, I’m back. Grow up, guys.
So my advice to any aspiring female, solo traveler out there, is to use your own good conscience to be safe and never put yourself in a situation where it can potentially be compromised. And straight from the Land of Clichedom, know your limits and have your fun, but don’t be “that” girl. I have never blacked out and have NO intentions of doing so. I’ve heard some pretty funny/impressive blackout stories from friends in the past, and while they’ve provided some cheap entertainment on a blurry, weekend night, I’ve always enjoyed being on just the listening end of it.
Without waving my
brag flag too high, I think some of my confidence and maturity comes from a late start in my social drinking lifestyle. I took pride in avoiding indulging in alcoholic beverages until I was 22 and past my “essential” college years and done with my basketball eligibility. I was by no means a party-pooper, and often times, people thought I was drunk anyway because my sober self is already crazy as it is!
But now that I’m 24, I will happily engage in a beverage or ten two socially and with the incredible and equally adventurous souls I meet. While the media, tragic events, and the fear of the unknown, make being by yourself practically a crime, please do embrace the inevitable personal growth you will experience. Adventure is out there, waiting for you to grab its hand and lead it somewhere new! Just remember that being fun and being stupid does NOT have to be synonymous.
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