Beginnings

 This trip got off to something of a rocky start. At approximately 3:30 pm EST, Tuesday, February 25, about 9 hours before my flight, my computer crashed. With some help from my father and a teary conversation with the Genius Bar, I was able to get it restarted, at the price of my hard drive. Luckily, it seems that most or all of my files have been backed up, so I have only to deal with the odious and tedious process of redownloading everything. Today, my computer tells me it will take only seven weeks.

Regardless, I was not in the best of spirits when I left my parents (and dog) at security and boarded a sixteen hour flight from JFK to Taipei. The flight itself wasn’t bad. I settled in just after midnight and went to sleep instantly. I slept straight through take off and dinner (though the flight attendants were kind enough to leave a sticker on the back of the seat in front of me, inviting me to let them know as soon as I was ready for my meal) and woke up some seven hours later.

After another eight hours, a brief layover, and a (comparatively) short flight from Taipei, I arrived at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport, where I hopped on a train toward the city. I took a cab from the train station (the driver swore that he’d use the meter) and arrived at the front door of my home and workplace for the next two (or so) weeks. I called the number I’d been given, but got no answer. Just as I was deciding on my best plan of action, three of my coworkers happened to come around the corner. They said: “Oh, you’re new! You must be Emily” and grabbed my bags and led me up the stairs to the office, where I was greeted by the HR team with a similar level of excitement and introduced to a variety of people working here in the office, as well as in centers around the country. It was incredibly welcoming and made me feel so happy to be here!

I was given a tour of the center, including the large dorm that will be my bedroom (shared with five or so other women) for the duration of my training in KL, and then sent to bed, encouraged to sleep through dinner if I wanted and make myself comfortable. After a shower and a quick nap, I was feeling a bit restless, so I did go out to a dinner of fried rice at six. I got to chat with a few people who work here in the office at varying points in their stays (ten months in, five months in, two days in). Seems like a great group of committed and friendly people. I elected not to go out to participate in a homelessness project, as jet lag was begging me to go to bed, which I did, at 8:00, only to wake up at 1:00. I dozed on and off until 6, which seemed like a somewhat reasonable time to wake up. I used the hours before anyone else woke up to phone home, and then slowly, slowly the residents of the training center came out for a breakfast of lentils (I wasn’t feeling especially hungry, so I contented myself with tea).

Everyone else who is here right now has some responsibility, but because my training doesn’t start until Monday, I am completely free. I spent the morning reading and enjoying the air conditioning in the common room (christened the Clubhouse) and, after lunch (curry and rice… yum!), walked to the train station where there is a shopping center, hoping to buy a few things. I am pretty sure I went a roundabout way, but was happy to stroll and see some of the area (although there isn’t too much around, beyond an Indian restaurant and a few kiosks, the sun was out and I was surrounded by palm trees and other green things). The walk home was brutal, though – absolutely scorching hot, so by the time I got back to the center, I could do nothing but fall onto my bed under the fan. The sunburn doesn’t appear to be too bad.

All in all, I have had a great first impression of the people here, the work they’re doing, and the center itself. I’m feeling much better about the coming year than I was before boarding the plane. I hope to get into the city this weekend when my coworkers also have some free time.

Why I loved traveling alone, and why I am in a hurry to do it again.

I have been drafting this post in my head for a while - ever since I realized that I loved traveling alone. My reasons for not writing it until now vary from laziness to an inability to express just why I loved being alone so much. I thought for a time I might write it as an epilogue to my Europe trip, but now it has been so long that it will be a prologue - to another journey, another continent. On February 25 I will leave for 12 months, to work in a community development center in rural Malaysia.

Explaining why I love traveling alone begs the addressing of a simpler question. It is a question a friend asked me last week. It is, obviously, why I love traveling, period. When my friend posed this question, I was caught off guard. I thought What do you mean "why do I love to travel?" What kind of question is that? Everyone loves to travel. This is not entirely true, of course. My toes have been tapping impatiently in their shoes since I got that letter in fifth grade inviting me to apply for People to People's trip to Australia (though it was another two years before my parents let me go) and they haven't quieted down since. What is it about traveling that thrills me? There are a number of answers, some as simple as "good food" and "fascinating people" and others more complex.

One of the greatest parts of traveling is that everything is exciting in a new place. Once you've taken your last step onto a plane in your familiar home airport and your next step somewhere completely different, literally nothing you could do is boring. Riding the bus to work at home is nothing special, but in Kenya you might be gleefully warned that "this bus has no brakes". Trudging home through cold November drizzle in your hometown is miserable, but in Tajikistan you stand the chance of watching some family try to lure a goat into a taxicab to share with their family at Eid. Grocery shopping in your local Stop and Shop is a mindless chore, but in Romania you might have to go for the "Age Plus Shampoo" even though you're twenty-two, just because it's the only bottle whose label you could read. Every daily task, no matter how small, becomes an adventure, an opportunity to see or learn or do something you never would at home, and it is those tiny things that make boarding a plane, for me, so alluring.

And on top of all of that, you yourself are something new and exciting, when you arrive in a new place. For each story you have to tell about your travels, someone else goes home to his family and sits down to dinner saying "today I met this bizarre American who did XYZ". I'm sure the guy I met in Rudaki Park in Tajikistan while sitting alone practicing my written Farsi scratched his head wondering what in the world I was doing there, and I hope against hope that Swiss host mother has forgiven me for thinking that crepes should be served with maple syrup and not with chicken curry. This exchange of weirdness is what I have always loved about traveling.

Traveling alone, on the other hand is not something I really thought I'd love as much as I did. When my aunt suggested that I extend my two-week Moscow - St. Petersburg - Helsinki trip into something bigger, I naturally jumped at the idea. When my Russia traveling buddy said she would not be joining me for the extra two months, I was not deterred, but my excitement did wane. I thought traveling alone would be character-building at best, and desperately lonely at worst. I have never been good at being alone. When my summertime roommates went to Aruba for a week, leaving me home alone with the cat, I took all the extra shifts I could get my hands on, just so I wouldn't have to stay long in an empty apartment. So, after our two weeks together were gone, when my traveling buddy and I said goodbye at the Copenhagen airport, I mostly thought what in the world have I done? Boarding my flight to Tallinn via Riga solo, I was feeling completely alone, clutching the printed directions from the airport to the Tallinn hostel, sure that something would go wrong.

Over the next few weeks, I became much better at traveling alone. I grew bolder in regard to introducing myself to other hostel guests, inviting myself out with them, and going places by myself. In Riga, I attended a juggling performance on my own, and enjoyed it. In Vilnius, I chatted with a number of people on a free walking tour, and later I joined several guests and our host in going to a restaurant and a bar. I explored cities alone, and with others, and had a wonderful time doing both.

The internet will tell you that the great reasons to travel alone are plenty. Feeling a little down in Kaunas, I read them all. You get to do exactly what you want, when you want, without worrying about whether your travel buddy is bored or doesn't think a children's museum of suns is worth the 5 lats you paid to get in. You can eat exactly what you want to eat, without any judgement from your group (is that your second kebab in as many days?). You can change your travel plans on a whim without wondering if your friend would rather wander around Transylvania than spend an entire day in a Budapest bath. You can experience what you see through your eyes only, not basing your appreciation of beautiful Czech countryside off of someone else's expression of awe. You meet people you wouldn't have introduced yourself to with a pal along, like the three Polish girls who ended up leading me to a Karaoke Bar in a dungeon.

For me, all of those things were true. I did a lot of things that I probably wouldn't have had Ashley stayed with me through the whole trip (that being said, I bet I missed out on a lot too. I wouldn't have even gone into St. Basil's Cathedral if she hadn't insisted). None of them, however, reflect what really made me realize I loved being alone. The realization wasn't, by any means, gradual. I remember vividly the moment it happened. It was in Prague, and I was making my way back to the Old Town from the castle district. I had just crossed over the Charles Bridge, and decided to turn right instead of left, to walk through a part of the city I hadn't seen yet. I turned to look back at the castle on the other side of river, and was overwhelmed by how happy I was, alone in a beautiful city, doing exactly what I wanted to do. I thought, I am great company! and that was that. Alone, I developed a huge amount of self love, not in an egotistical sense, but more in an "I am happy with who I am and where I am today" way.

I thought back on that moment a lot over the course of the trip, anytime I was feeling lonely or bored. It gave me the confidence to talk to people, and to go more places by myself. It is what I loved most about touring Europe alone, and it is why I would (and will!) do it again in a heartbeat.