Flying Solo

From two to one

I've recently rented a room in the picture-perfect city of Antigua from a diminutive Guatemalan abuela who provides three hearty meals per day and affectionately refers to me as chica. My days are spent taking Spanish lessons, practicing my poor Spanish and fervently devouring books from the only second-hand book store in town. Because as of exactly two weeks ago, our cosy traveling party of two became an even cosier party of one... and I shall now be continuing this journey solo.

In the wake of our leisurely fortnight in Cuba my partner and I returned to Mexico, taking refuge from the touristy Yucatan Peninsula on the bohemian island of Holbox. We secured a fantastic deal on a rustic wooden bungalow (thanks to the impending low season) and for two weeks did little more than swing in hammocks, eat guacamole and fish tacos and drink cervezas on the beach at sunset. Yet as relaxing as it was, my partner found he couldn't shake his growing restlessness and impassivity for traveling. And as the week drew to a close, we both knew something had to change.

I have explained in a previous post that travel fatigue can strike at any time. The ceaseless overload on your senses, the constant moving every few days, the stress when things go wrong, the ever-present sense of being an outsider and the difficulty communicating can eventually take its toll. Sometimes, even taking a week to relax on a Caribbean island simply isn't enough of a remedy.

Sometimes, even a Caribbean island isn't enough

My partner was missing his friends and his family (he had a baby nephew he was yet to meet), missing the familiar comforts of home and keen to get back to his career. He felt that continuing to travel would be a waste of his hard-earned savings if he was no longer fully absorbing his experiences. He didn't want to ask me to go home (as he feared I would come to resent him if he did) and yet he didn't want to leave me on the road by myself either. However it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to continue.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but my initial reaction was completely selfish. I didn't want him to go. I tried talking him out of it, pleading with him to persevere for a few more months. When that wasn't working, I outright forbid him to return to Australia. Yet I had a nagging voice in my head telling me that I was being unreasonable. I knew that I couldn't ask him to continue traveling if he didn't want to, just as he couldn't ask me to stop.

It's important to remain true to yourself

So with a heavy heart (and a few tears and apologies - from both of us) it was decided that he would fly home and I would continue on without him. As I've written on this blog before, long-term travel isn't so much an escape from real life but rather it becomes your real life. And whilst it's necessary in any long-term relationship to ride the highs and lows of life together; it's also important (and healthy) to remain as individuals and to not impose your preferences on each other. Essentially, you need to be true to yourself - even if that means being apart. Because anything less will simply create bigger problems in the long run.

Nonetheless, in spite of adopting this stoic perspective saying goodbye was hard. The first 24 hours were the worst. I shuffled around Mexico City in a heartbroken stupor, morosely eating lunch by myself whilst absent-mindedly thumbing through my copy of Central America on a Shoestring. Thinking a change of scene would help, I bid farewell to the congested shithole that is Mexico City and took an overnight bus to the colonial town of San Cristobal de las Casas. Set in a gorgeous highland valley, its cobbled streets lined with cafes and bars and restored century-old houses; San Cristobal was like a breath of fresh air. Despite raining the entire time, for four blissful days I soaked up its ambience and rediscovered my love of traveling solo.

I still miss my partner

Don't get me wrong - I still miss my partner. I miss his lame jokes. I miss his laughter. I miss his cooking. I miss his teasing and name-calling. It's impossible not to notice the absence of someone you've spent over a year traveling with. But if I'm perfectly honest, just as Narcissus loved the sight of his own reflection in the pool, I too love spending time in my own company.

I can wander the streets of any city or town I visit for hours photographing whatever takes my fancy. I can sit idly people watching in parks, or eavesdrop on other people's conversations in cafes. I can devote entire hours to conversations in my head or my own absurd reflections. I can peruse second-hand bookstores for hours; I can trawl the food markets salivating over all the fresh frutas y verduras or I can sit in a bar with a glass of red wine listening to a jazz band (my partner would sooner stick a saxophone up his arse than spend a night listening to jazz).

Whilst the evenings do sometimes get lonely, I've kept myself busy writing and studying and catching up on Game of Thrones. Or simply sitting in a bar/cafe with a good book (and I'll snarl like a dog if you try and disrupt such solitude, as some men have learnt the hard way). I find people are a little friendlier to a solo female traveler too - the hostel staff greet me warmly; the wait staff seem to smile a little more. People offer to help with my bags; strangers nod hello.

But it's not all roses. The other night as I went looking for a place to have dinner, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a man teetering precariously on the footpath, evidently inebriated. Without giving it too much thought I side stepped him, but a split second later felt his drunken, lecherous hands grab me square on my backside. I spun around, intending to slap him in the face, before remembering where I was (in Guatemala, at night, alone) and thought better of it. He muttered something incomprehensible in Spanish and I stalked off, my blood boiling and tears of frustration welling in my eyes.

For some, the sight of a woman alone is an open invitation

As I sat eating dinner I seethed, recalling all the other times I've been harassed by men when traveling solo. The lascivious stares, the wolf-whistling. The countless times I've had men plonk themselves next to me on a park bench, or a bus seat, or a train carriage, because the sight of a woman alone seems to be an open invitation. The time on a beach in Croatia, where I was simply minding my own business when Borat's doppelgänger took it upon himself to start rubbing sunscreen on my back whilst cooing about my rubenesque figure and proposing we go back to his place for sex.

I'm no supermodel, particularly in my dishevelled travel attire. But it doesn't seem to matter to them. At least when I traveled with my partner, if some guy so much as blinked at me he'd stare them down with a scowl so fierce they'd take a step backwards. But now that I'm on my own, I need to do the defending. I need to keep my guard up and take extra precautions.

All week long the barista at my Spanish school has been serving me lukewarm coffee and each and every day he asks me out on a date. I always mumble an excuse in Spanglish before high-tailing it out the door. But after a week of this, I'd had enough (both the lukewarm coffee AND the unwanted advances). Exasperated, I told my Spanish teacher what was going on. After laughing for a good few minutes, she said she knew how to help me.

The next day I hesitantly ordered my coffee. Sure enough, the sales pitch began. Remembering my maestra's words, I stood up straight, looked the barista square in the face and said: "Yo no soy soltera! Yo soy casada." Bewildered, he apologised profusely as I marched out the door, a smirk creeping onto my face.

Whilst unwanted attention is undoubtedly an unfortunate downside to being a solo female traveler, it's not enough to deter me. In my experience, the perceived threat is often far greater than the actual dangers faced. And whilst my partner may not be physically here to defend me, he still gives me strength. I take comfort in knowing he is thinking of me, that he is waiting for me to come home.

And he still travels with me in my heart.        

He still travels with me