The Solo Traveler’s Guide to Dealing With Loneliness - Susie Armitage
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Photo:
Oscar Wong/Moment/Getty Images
Last December, I embarked on a month-long solo trip to
Eastern Europe. I’d been feeling a bit stalled personally and professionally,
and I thought a big adventure would help me get unstuck. I booked a flight to
Estonia, reserved a few nights in an Airbnb, and planned to figure out the rest
when I got there — after all, everything was up to me.
It was a thrilling thought: I was
exploring a foreign country entirely on my own, with no one else’s schedule,
wants, or needs to consider. I wandered the charming cobbled streets of
Tallinn, the capital city. I sipped hot sea buckthorn tea at a Christmas market
and bought a pair of reindeer-patterned leg warmers to cope with the
single-digit temperatures. But a day or two later, shivering under the weak
afternoon sun and surrounded by groups snapping photos, it hit me: I was
really, truly alone in a place where I knew no one. And even though I’d chosen
to come there, I was lonely.
Almost as soon as I recognized my own
loneliness, I was disappointed by it. Feeling this way seemed at odds with the
spirit of a solo adventure. What I didn’t know then — but have since come to
learn — is that even if you genuinely enjoy traveling by yourself (and I do),
you won’t necessarily love every single minute of it. In addition to that burst
of quiet joy you feel watching a breathtaking sunset in solitude or the rush of
pride you get from successfully navigating a new transit system, you’ll
probably have a few moments when you’re tired of having no one but yourself for
company.
For most of us, a little loneliness is
inevitable, but it doesn’t have to ruin your trip. Here are a few ways to deal
with it.
Give yourself
permission to feel lonely
My initial reaction to loneliness was
to beat myself up. It wasn’t just that it was ruining my trip; feeling this way
also clashed with the identity I’d been mentally constructing. I wanted to see
myself as an adventurous person, and in my mind, adventurous people didn’t get
lonely. There must be a “right” way to travel alone, I concluded, and whatever
it was, I wasn’t doing it.
It would have
been comforting to remember that even confident, independent people aren’t
immune to getting lonely.
I quickly started spiraling: Why
wasn’t I making small talk with that barista? Why hadn’t I planned better, so I
wouldn’t be walking aimlessly in the cold, wondering where to go next? I was
privileged to be able to travel, so why couldn’t I just enjoy it?
In the moment, it would have been
comforting to remember that even confident, independent people aren’t immune to
getting lonely. “Be comfortable with the idea that it will happen,” says Janice
Waugh, the founder of Solo Traveler, an online resource and community for people
traveling alone. “But it will pass.”
If you’re taking a trip with the aim
of clearing your head, like I was, keep in mind that getting away from your
regular routine could exacerbate some of the worries you were already having.
“You’re more in touch with your emotions because there’s nothing there to
distract you,” says Scott Haas, a clinical psychologist and the author of the travel
memoir Are We There Yet?
It took a while, but eventually, I
realized I was judging myself too harshly. Once I accepted loneliness as a
normal human emotion, it was easier to move through it and appreciate the
unique experiences I could have precisely because I was on my own.
Stay somewhere
social
Your dream solo getaway might entail a
luxurious hotel bed and plenty of privacy, but if you want to meet people,
hostels are a great place to do it. “Even if you’re not with people during the
day, you’re going to come home, and there’s going to be a very busy common room
at night,” Waugh says. If you’re past your days of bunking with snoring
strangers, many hostels have private bedrooms and welcome guests of all ages.
I stayed in several shared Airbnbs on
my trip, and while the socializing was hit or miss — in one place I chatted
with a friendly Iranian grad student, but in another, I ate my dinner in
silence while my host watched the History Channel — it still improved my mood
to have someone else around. Friends of mine swear by Couchsurfing,
a community where members offer travelers a couch or air mattress in their home
for free. The site can also connect you with people who can’t offer a place to
stay but want to hang out with travelers passing through their area.
Put yourself
out there
As Waugh points out, many people drawn
to traveling alone are likely on the introverted side, as she is, and may not
be naturally prone to chatting up strangers. I fall into that camp, too, and
though I’ve learned to approach people as a journalist, I still tend to be more
reserved in my personal life.
I told Haas I’d spent one particularly
dismal night in Lithuania drinking beer, pretending to watch a soccer game on
TV, and feeling dumb for failing to strike up a conversation with the
bartender. “Develop a script,” he said, suggesting I come up with a few go-to
questions: How long have you been working here? Does this place cater mostly to
foreigners or locals?
Group
activities provide structure for socializing and can lead to new connections.
If you’re feeling shy, Waugh says,
it’s important to remember that as a foreigner traveling solo, a lot of locals
are likely interested in your story: “You’re doing it on your own, and people
find that fascinating.”
When all else fails, take a creative
approach. “I try to pretend I’m in a movie,” Haas says. “It helps me feel like
I am playing a part.”
Become
a regular
The night after my awkward evening at
that pub in Vilnius, I went back to the restaurant where I’d eaten on my first
day in town. The owners had been friendly before, but I brought a book to read
at the bar in case they were busy. I didn’t need it. When I sat down, they
greeted me like an old friend. After they closed up, we went out for drinks at
another spot in the neighborhood.
Even a less effusive welcome can be
comforting. Haas went to the same cafe two days in a row in Kyoto, and on the
second morning, they remembered his order. “I felt like I had a little
relationship to the place,” he recalls, “so I was less lonely.”
Schedule some
organized activities
I’m not usually much of a planner, but
after talking to Waugh, I realized it would have been a good idea to put
a walking tour or
cooking class on my itinerary. Group activities provide structure for
socializing and can lead to new connections. For example, when it started
raining during a free walking tour in Paris, Waugh and another woman decided to
ditch the group and got lunch together instead.
Sharing about
my trip helped me feel more connected to my world back home.
The Global Greeter
Network can set you up with a volunteer who’ll show you around their
city for free. They’ll try to match you with someone who shares your interests:
Waugh wanted to explore the Chicago waterfront by bike, for example, so the
group introduced her to a local cyclist and they went on a ride together.
You should plan to request a Greeter a
few weeks in advance, but if you’re already in town, you can see if there’s an
interesting Meetup nearby.
Share your
experiences
I did a lot of Instagramming during my
trip, mostly using the “stories” feature, so I wouldn’t stress about how many
likes a picture got or if I was flooding my friends’ feeds. This let me share a
lot of random observations I wouldn’t have deemed worthy of a regular post. For
example, I went to an Estonian grocery store and posted pictures of interesting
things I found, like yogurt flavored with rye bread and single servings of
vodka packaged like Jell-O pudding cups.
Sharing these little things helped me
feel more connected to my world back home; almost every morning, I woke up to
messages from friends who said they enjoyed following my travels. It also
reminded me of another reason I love exploring alone: I can take all the time I
want to do things like document the dairy aisle.
Get away from
touristy areas
A few days into my trip, I took the
bus to a spa resort outside a small town in southeast Estonia. It was pretty,
surrounded by majestic pine trees, but nowhere near the top of the country’s
must-see list. (“Võru isn’t very interesting,” my Airbnb host said when I told
him my plans.) I’d stumbled on the place while researching Estonian spa
treatments and booked a massage.
“How did you
find us?” the masseuse, Tiina, asked after rubbing my back thoroughly with a
salve made from Estonian bear fat. “We don’t usually get foreigners here.”
Knowing that I’d successfully gotten
off the beaten track bolstered my confidence. I spent the rest of the day
relaxing on a heated lounge chair, watching snow fall outside, and listening to
vacationing families splash in the pool. The spa facilities were fine, not
spectacular, but that felt more like a perk than a downside: I didn’t care. I
felt lucky to have a window into everyday Estonian life, glad to be away from
all the tour groups in the capital and truly happy to be alone.
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