Lonely on the road

Since this summer’s trip was my third solo journey since 2024, my real apprehension prior to the trip surprised me. I kept my thoughts to myself, convinced that voicing them would cause me to do something I would regret, like cancel.

First solo trip in decades, at age 69

When I went to France alone in 2024, I rented an Airbnb for eleven days. I stayed in Menton’s old town because I fell in love with the town years earlier when I spent only two days there with my best friend. My apartment on Rue Longue had a miraculous view of the sea, which I earned after climbing many, many very old stairs. Each day held adventures, pastries, and café crème. Menton and I had a strong connection, but after nine dinners alone in lovely restaurants, I had pangs of loneliness. On day ten, I woke up thinking I was ready to go home, and that maybe solo travel wasn’t for me. Day eleven, departure day, I was ready to go back to the U.S. On day twelve, back home in Florida, I said to myself, “I must be crazy to give up this travel!”

https://wanderlearnrepeat.com/blog-2

Solo at 70

Last year, I started my journey with my daughter, then spent the next several weeks traveling alone. Still fantasizing about spending most of the summer in Europe each year, I lengthened this trip.

I left Zoë at Leonardo Da Vinci airport in Rome and set off for Cremona, Italy before going to Lyon, France, and finally Paris. Each city gifted me with irreplaceable memories. I took day trips to Geneva, Rouen, attended a strings concert in Paris, and so much more.

But dinners were lonely. Walking back to my hotel at about 10 pm on my last night, I had the audacity to feel sorry for myself. It didn’t help that I took a wrong turn and got lost for a few minutes. I was ready to go home and call it quits with traveling alone. When I found my way again, I walked across Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge over the Seine in Paris. The night’s drizzle did nothing to keep strollers indoors. Stopping at the mid-point of the bridge, my mood went from undeserved self-pity to one of sheer wonder. How could I give this up!

Still going at 71

I vacillated between taking a chance on a new travel partner and going it alone again. My need for freedom won, and I planned another solo adventure, adding yet another few days to my itinerary. This time, my feelings often alternated between eager anticipation and a bit of sadness about my lack of travel partner. I told all my friends that I couldn’t wait to go. Many times after my son booked my flight, I thought of canceling. The only thing that stopped me was knowing my son considers me brave. I couldn’t disappoint him, so I pressed on, booking hotels and trains. I slept badly the night before my departure and started the drive to Miami airport feeling cranky. Only when I landed in Brussels, did I get my mojo back.

After my last two trips, I had learned to accept the lonely moments for what they were, only moments. I had an amazing time, probably with too ambitious an itinerary, felt alone, and went on to the next amazing experience. Yes, on departure day, I felt more than ready to come home, complete with doubts about more solo travel. Again, this mindset lasted about 30 hours. Where should I go next?