Tags
dordogne, france, sarlat, solo travel, travel, travel addict, traveling alone, wanderlust, woman traveller
I am a wuss. A big, fat, won’t-drive-in-city traffic kind of wuss. Won’t go-to-the-mall-during the holiday season kind of wuss. Ok, that one just might make me sane. I woke up one day and realized that this wussiness had decided my whole life for me. With jobs and even many relationships. It led me to choose standard. Normal. Safe. I have three kids I love beyond belief (who are totally NOT standard and are in fact amazing!). I live in a wonderful little town, with wonderful friends, many of whom are artists like myself. Life was certainly not bad. I was super lucky. And I knew it. But, there was an itch. Something that told me I had always been safe. Too safe. And because of it I was missing out on the actual living part of life. I was tired of “dreaming” of travel and wanted to actually do it! “Someday” had become a dirty word.
So I decided it couldn’t wait, but I wanted the travel I chose to terrify me so I could prove I was capable of overcoming that fear. As a woman I felt this even more strongly. Traveling pushed all of those boundaries and travelling alone is the easiest way to remove that safety net. It forces you to. It’s scary, and fabulous. It taught me more in my few weeks of travel than any therapist could have taught me in years of
sessions. And I LOVED it! I chose a place where I couldn’t speak the language, beyond my minimal high school french, just to make it a little more difficult and headed to Sarlat and Beynac in the South of France. I rented two separate homes for the 2 week stay, started an Etsy business to fund the trip, and jumped in with both feet. I had to make my own decisions. I had to rely on only myself. On a trip to Font-de-Gaume, some of the last actual cave art open to the public (so they told me), I arrived at 6 am to beat the crowd that arrive at the crack of dawn to ensure one of the few slots open each day. I had the pleasure of a couple of hours of conversation with a German couple biking their way through Southern France. As it was an unexpectedly frigid May morning I came under dressed. God if I heard one more time that week how it hadn’t been this cold in the Dordogne in May in 30 years, I was going to scream!. The woman took the shirt off her back, literally. Handed it to me and rode her bike back to her inn to retrieve another one for herself…..I was continually amazed at peoples’ generosity and their awe at my traveling solo. I was constantly told I was brave. ME???? Brave???? What a change! This was a whole new life!
One of my favorite and most memorable experiences started with listening to this cello player near the cathedral in Sarlat, France during the day early in my week.
And ended by watching this same cello player jam to Knockin on Heaven’s Door in a tiny local bar with a group of Sarlat musicians (starting at :33 or so you’ll hear the actual singing). I had been wanting to poke into this little place all week. Thankfully I did. And because I was alone it forced me to ask a lovely Australian couple if I could sit with them, and the rest is history. Once I have the money I will be Australia bound to visit (fingers crossed!) . I was also proposed to by the harmonica player who tried to lure me by telling me he had a clean bathroom. Now this doesn’t happen every day, but a clean bathroom IS actually an admirable quality in a man! Perhaps more should advertise this when trying to pick up a woman. What a night that could never have been the exact same way if I hadn’t been alone.
Travel is where I learned what life contains. Or the possibilities at least. The beauty and richness of interaction with strangers who then become friends. Or maybe even just “ships that pass” but they leave an indelible mark on your heart. Where I learned that the world is a whole lot smaller than we think and all of us that are on it are much more alike than we realize. Where “unexpected” became my new favorite word. It’s where I learned to navigate uncomfortable travel situations on my own with little common language but through the generosity of the French always knew I would manage to get through it somehow. They were amazingly generous and very, very kind, despite their reputation as snooty! Travel is where I learned to relax a little, and trust myself. It’s where I surprised myself. Pleasantly. It’s where I got more hugs and kisses than anywhere in my life. Where I shopped and ate fresh foods in local markets and felt I was truly living because of it. Where I faced joy head on, in the natural world I came in contact with and the awe inspiring scenery I saw daily and the people who laughed freely and shared openly. It’s where language didn’t matter, and common culture didn’t matter. What mattered was we were all human. Travel is where my life changed. And it can never go back 🙂 I traveled alone and I never, ever felt lonely…….