Table for One.
I’ve done a lot of risky things over the course of my life. When I was 19 I went skydiving and canyoning in Switzerland. When I was 22 I opened my own business. When I was 27 I gave it all up and moved to New York to start over. When I was 28 I picked up and went to Costa Rica for six weeks to do volunteer work. And at 29 I was ready to take one last leap of faith and try my luck in Europe.
The question I receive most often when I tell people of my travels- where I’m going and where I’ve been- is, “So you’re doing it alone?”
Yes.
The thing is, it’s not as scary as it sounds. Traveling alone can actually be quite liberating. You are on your own schedule, your own budget and can pick up at a moment’s notice to head wherever you’d like. You’re also more inclined to meet new people in an effort to get to know the city you’re in and assemble some sort of a social life. I’ve made new friends from all over the world in my travels, many who I kept in touch with after the trip. It makes life more colorful and full… a beautiful combination.
Of course there are the pitfalls. Luggage can be a beast, especially since you have no one to share the packing duties with (or for women, the toiletry duties). The cost of a hotel is more expensive since you are a single traveler, so you’ll always pay full price. Or, in the case of British Airways, you only get ONE night’s hotel room free if you’re a single traveler, not two as advertised. Pure discrimination. Safety is always a concern… you need to be extra prepared and aware of your surroundings. And then of course is the issue of dining alone. An art I have sadly perfected.
Years ago I was horrified at the thought of eating alone. It seemed so desperate and sad, to sit silently at a table for one, knowing there would always be an extra chair that no one would fill, breaking the silence with small talk with your waiter and looking at your phone maniacally as though someone would be calling to tell you they were late.
Then I grew up and realized it’s really not that bad… You just need to fine tune your solo dining plan to make it work for you. For one, bring a book or a notebook along. If you’re like me, it’s rare to get 15 minutes to just clear your head without any distractions, so the forced productivity and/or escape feels great. Observe what’s going on around you. Listen to the different languages or accents, eavesdrop on a few conversations. You will be amazed at how the human condition stays consistent no matter where you are… we are all going through break ups, asshole bosses, teething children, lying husbands, career changes, dreams lingering and more. It makes you realize how a perfect stranger is still a person, and how silence can be your best friend when you are alone, and your worst enemy when you are with someone else.
Here’s a little anecdote:
The other night I came back to my hotel in Munich after a day of interviews and walking the city. I decided to just eat at the restaurant at my hotel since I had a voucher for a courtesy glass of Prosecco, so I grabbed my Kindle and headed down to dinner. It was a little on the early side, probably about 6:00pm, and there was no one in the restaurant except me and one other couple. (I should have taken this as a sign that my fettuccine with pesto sauce was going to be less than tasty, but oh well). After sitting for about 15 minutes I noticed that the restaurant was still completely silent, sans some clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. 20 minutes pass… still no talking. It was then that I realized this couple, who were German and probably in their mid-60s, were not talking AT ALL. Not a word. I couldn’t even tell you what their voices sounded like until the bill came and the man spoke to the waiter. It actually made me sad, and it hit me that as lonely as it can be dining solo, it must be even lonelier to be sitting across from the table from someone you have nothing to say to. And with that, I paid my check, headed up to my twin bed in my single room, and went to sleep with the dream and the confidence that some day when I travel, it will be with my best friend who will want to talk to me until I take my dying breath. Poor sucker.
Table for one. Go ahead and give it a try. You’ll be surprised how much you learn.
25Oh London… I really like you.
Day 5 and in my third place of rest… it’s just like home!
Seriously though, I have to admit I love this city. Aside from the drill sergeant at Customs wanting to know how much money I had in my account to stay here for two months (note to self: from here on out I’m simply an excited tourist… damn me and my honesty), everyone and everything has been wonderful so far.
My first night I had the pleasure of meeting up with the lovely and talented Alex Berger, who introduced me to some local singer-songwriters after a heart-racing game of Frisbee in the park. He’s actually in New York now, so if you’re in the city on October 23 you should definitely check out his show at Rockwood Music Hall.
On Saturday I ventured over to Holland Park, which quickly became one of my favorite neighborhoods here. Rich with trees, cafes, parks, and clean and classic buildings, I felt like I was walking through a movie set as I made my way to dinner at the secret restaurant, Nomad Chef. I cannot say enough wonderful things about Shelley Taylor, our host and chef, who put together a delicious meal (complete with tofu for the vegetarians!) and dessert in her beautiful flat. At dinner I was able to meet and mingle with about 15 complete strangers, exchanging numbers, drinking and even a little dancing to complete the night. The concept of this “secret restaurant” is brilliant- it’s a perfect way to meet new people and enjoy a night of socializing while maintaining the comfort and intimacy of dining at home. Some nights she has live entertainment featuring local singer-songwriters, and other nights she’s busy being booked for private parties and events. We’re working on getting Shelley and her magnificent hosting skills to NY and NJ in a few weeks… you don’t know how lucky you are!
Sunday was recovery and work mode… aside from wandering and meeting up with some great people and business contacts here I’ve spent a great deal of time in cafes mapping, planning, e-mailing and writing in prep for the upcoming weeks of travel. Wednesday I head out to Frankfurt, Germany, making my way through Stuttgart, Zurich, Munich, Amsterdam, Haarlem, and Paris before coming home to England and getting settled.
Another note: the Tube system here is great. Easy to navigate, not overly crowded and extremely clean. Not one person gave me a dirty look as I made my way on and off with my 90 pounds of luggage… Not even when I rolled over their feet. London definitely wins in the public transportation department!
Today is a warm and windy fall day, and I’m taking some time to explore the West End before heading back to Flat #3 in Camden. Missing you all in New York, but excited to share everything I’m experiencing along the way.
Love. XOXO
“The woman who follows the crowd usually goes no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever been before.” ~Albert Einstein.
10 Things To Do Before Next Wednesday.
1. Go to Red Mango and get Pumpkin Spice yogurt with dark chocolate chips and graham crackers. Yum.
2. Eat pizza. More yum.
3. Learn German, French, and Dutch. Not so much yum.
4. Buy back ups for back ups of back ups of all my electronic equipment.
5. Buy extra fast sneakers to run after any potential thieves who may try to steal from me (they will NOT get away with it this time).
6. Say goodbye to my fall wardrobe, and hug each pair of boots, one at a time.
7. Eat more pizza and Red Mango. (aka feed my inner fat girl)
8. Learn how to drive on the wrong side of the road (I am kind of an expert at that already).
9. Find a coat that can be worn in three of the four seasons, since I was just informed the weather is summer-like in London, with snow in the near forecast.
10. And the thing I’m least looking forward to doing… Pack.
One week!
A glimpse of “Hope.”
A few years ago a friend introduced me to the book, “Hope For The Flowers.” It’s a really sweet tale written as a children’s book but with a very adult message. The story centers around two caterpillars who meet on their journey to the top of the pillar. After returning home together and starting a life, one of the butterflies, Stripe, decides he must return to the pillar, climb to the top, and see what it’s all about. Yellow is devastated but understands his need to feed this curiosity. In the interim, she meets a butterfly who guides her into a cocoon, where she later emerges a beautiful butterfly and flies to the top of the pillar. There she encounters Stripe, who has reached his destination only to learn the view from the top was not what he expected. He sees what she has become and returns home to make his transformation into a butterfly as well.
I think what has always drawn me to this story is not the idea of two things separating and returning to each other, but the lessons that each of them learned in taking their own journey. It’s common as we get older to spend our time attached to people who we feel comfortable with, or who we perceive as having the life we want. We succumb to expectations, idealisms, and the “story” of what seems to be a perfect situation, only to realize that it may not be right for us. We make decisions that we feel compelled to stick with, not realizing there are options and other ways to achieve our goals and happiness.
The reality is, dreams change. Life changes. The people around you will change. The more you are able to adapt and take on a perspective of looking at the big picture and not the immediate feeling of the moment, the better chance you have at being successful. Put yourself in a cocoon for awhile, or climb to the top of your pillar. Discover what you need to about yourself.
What’s meant to be will always be.
A Year With Rumi
The other night I borrowed a book from work titled “A Year With Rumi.” Rumi was a 13th century poet whose work is still quoted and embraced as gospel for those searching for a deeper meaning in life. My intention was to use the book as a prop, but while flipping through the pages I found myself immersed in his words. Since there are 365 pieces, I naturally flipped to the dates that held significance to me- birthdays, holidays, etc. Then I turned to the poem of that present date- July 19. It’s strange sometimes how messages sneak up on you when you are least expecting it. I felt a really strong connection to this particular piece of writing, and had it not been that exact day I may never have uncovered it. To me this piece is about living for and recognizing who we are meant to be… Accepting our differences and embracing the love inside us that fuels us to make the best choices for our individual life paths.
“Love for Certain Work”
Traveling is as refreshing for some
as staying at home is for others.
Solitude in a mountain place
fills with companionship for this one,
and weariness for that one.
This person loves being in charge
of the workings of a community.
This other one loves the ways
heated iron can be shaped with a hammer.
Each has been given a strong desire
for certain work, a love for these motions,
and all motion is love.
The way sticks and pieces of dead grass and leaves
shift about in the wind
and with the directions of rain and puddle-water
on the ground, those motions
are all following the love
they have been given.
Reality. Check.
A week ago I boarded a nine hour, two-stop bus ride leaving Tamarindo and heading to my next destination. I was greasy from only taking cold showers, hungry from only eating granola bars, and tired from being up all night swatting away mosquitoes and bugs. My volunteer work was over and the only conclusion about life I had come to was that I was going to move to California. I was terrified to return to New York.
And then the most miraculous thing happened… I walked into air conditioning. I took a hot shower. I ate a handful of almonds and some fresh mango. I sipped a glass of red wine. REAL red wine. (I shudder at the thought of the sour pink wine I was served at our local bar in San Ramon). After I was pampered for a bit, I sat down and took in some tough love.
I was asked questions that I didn’t have an answer to. I was made to feel like an intelligent, successful “grown up.” I was treated as an intellectual equal by two brilliant, warm and wise adults, while being guided in the same gentle manner as a doe-eyed teenager. I felt like my own parents had somehow channeled themselves through these non-biased and compassionate mentors. I listened. And I learned.
I return home in a less than a week, and I finally feel like I’m ready to go back. I have direction and I have a purpose.
Most importantly, I’ve found balance between my harshly realistic outlook on my career and my overly idealistic views on love. I know my worth.
As you all read this I’ll be sitting on a speed boat to Mal Pais to conclude my trip. It will be my last few days to “vacation”- to unwind, take in the scenery, explore the culture, read those books I’ve been saving, meet more people, and get owned by a few more waves. I have a seriously intense road ahead of me and I plan to savor every moment of the serenity, here and now.
But have no fear New York… I’m coming home. Hold on to a few of those majestic fall colors until I return.
Saying Goodbye.
I’ve never been really good at goodbyes. I suppose no one is, really, but there are those that manage to put up their walls in those instances and for that I am somewhat jealous. When I’m leaving, all my walls come crashing down.
This week has been an emotional one, with scrambling to finish up writing projects, packing, going back and forth to NYC every night to see friends, and making my lists to ensure I have everything I need. Last night was my final night out in the city, tonight I’ll say goodbye to family, and tomorrow night I anxiously await that 3 am car ride to JFK to board JetBlue bright and early Sunday morning.
I can’t believe it’s finally here.
For the first time since I booked the trip, I’ve started to feel nervous. Butterflies float in and out of my stomach a few times a day as I try to process exactly where I’m going, what I’m doing, and what I hope to take away from it. Saying goodbye to friends was especially hard, because the reality is I don’t know where I will end up when I return. I haven’t simply taken a fork in the road, I pretty much found a random path in the woods and just took off running. It’s a pattern I’ve grown familiar with, but never have I ventured so far as a new country to explore on my own.
Nonetheless, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. The most important things I’m taking with me are my journal and my camera, both which I plan to use daily. The main things I’m leaving behind are my computer, Facebook and Twitter. It’s time for a little technology and social networking detox in my life. I’m experiencing a strange mixture of feeling separation anxiety while looking forward to spending my time writing, reading, exploring my surroundings, and being a little MIA for a bit.
The next time I write I’ll be sharing my stories from an internet cafe in San Ramon. I hope you’ll join me there.
Until then, peace and love.
Adios, NYC. You will be missed.
Countdown to Costa Rica
Today marks the official one month countdown until I embark on my journey to Costa Rica. For those of you who haven’t been following my 999 status updates and tweets regarding my decision to make this trip, here’s the deal:
On October 3 I leave for approximately a month to do volunteer work around the small village of San Ramon, Costa Rica. For three weeks I will be helping to build a house for an underprivileged family as a part of a small team of volunteers. Most, if not all, of my fellow workers will be from other countries, and I will be living with a host family somewhere in the village. The only information I was given regarding the family is that they have two sons (ages 17 and 10) and a daughter (age 15), a dog, and two love parakeets. My breeze block house comes with a grocery store in the “garage,” and my host father runs a karaoke rental business in the village (I’m brushing up on my Madonna songs every day). From what I understand they speak little to no English, and I don’t speak a word of Spanish. Perfect.
Last week I purchased a “Christina-sized” backpack that will hold everything I can possibly fit for my journey. After my volunteer work is finished I plan to travel the country a bit… check out some of the surf towns along the Pacific coast, explore the rainforest, and revel in the wonders of the countries volcanoes. I have no plan, no reservations, and no one to travel with at this point. It will be me, my journal, my camera, and whatever friends I make along the way. I’m just GOING.
The decision to make this trip was simple. I needed a change. I needed to get out of my comfort zone, to make a difference, to experience other cultures and ways of life. I hope to free myself of insecurities, let go of old baggage, and find inspiration that will take my writing in a new direction. I believe that in traveling, particularly to other countries, you are being given a chance to see a reflection of yourself in a new mirror, one that is both honest and enlightening.
It may get lonely. It may get challenging. I will be covered in dust and smell mildly offensive every day. I’ll be building during the height of the rainy season, with mosquitoes ready to feast on my sweet blood and work conditions ten times more frustrating due to the weather. My usual wardrobe of dresses and heels will be swapped for Nike Dri-Fit clothing, bandanas, and hiking sneakers.
And you know what?
I can’t friggin’ wait.
