What Does it Take to be Lonesome?

Before I began this trip a little over two weeks ago I was receiving a lot of mixed reactions when someone would hear my answer to the question, “Are you traveling with anyone?” There are some who gasp at the proposition of traveling by one’s self. Then there are others who encourage the solo adventurist. The truth is, it’s pretty difficult to give a reliable opinion if you’ve never experienced it for yourself.

This is my first time ever traveling alone for an extended period and I can honestly say that each day of my journey has been full of meaningful interactions and enjoyable activities, otherwise not possible had I not been traveling on my own. Traveling with your family, a group of friends, or even just one other person, be it a significant other or good friend, has multiple benefits. Mostly it’s the comfort of knowing the person or group of people with whom you’re traveling with.  You can confide in them, you already know you can have fun with them and you know well where each of you is coming from, literally and figuratively. These benefits are huge for people that need a constant companion, as there’s no guarantee you’re going to hit it off with a fellow traveler.

With that said, it can also be said that the road is full of people who are successful, friendly, and open minded. As I said earlier, much of my interactions with these people wouldn’t have been possible had I been traveling with others. For example, although three years ago I formed lifelong connections with some really amazing study abroad classmates, it wasn’t so easy meeting fellow travelers or locals because we would be out with the same group of people each night. Being alone is an opportunity in itself because the energy you expend goes to forming new connections with people from all around the world. That is unless you believe in meaningless conversation and you’re just interested in shooting the shit with strangers, which you can do just as easily back home.

Barcelona Beach

The best form of travel by ones self I’ve found that fosters connections that are both instant and long lasting are staying in dorm hostels. It’s better to go for the eight bed compared to a two bed because you save money and have more opportunity to meet others. If you’re traveling, especially if you’re in your twenties, there will be always someone you can relate to. It gets easier the more you travel because you’re able to expand your commonalities from knowing the customs in your hometown to knowing customs of individual countries. I can’t tell you how much I’ve learned just from being genuinely interested in someone else’s origins. Did you know Kazakhstan borders the largest lake in the world? That lake is the Caspian Sea. Yeah, it got me too. Did you know that Australia used to be a penal colony? It’s true that a large portion of their country are descendants of prisoners (..some Aussies can be hard to trust). What about Catalonia? This region in Spain is more than its romance language suggests. It’s an autonomous community vying for an independence that has the potential to send its governing country into an unthinkable downward spiral.

Being open to this information is the only way you’ll receive it. Same goes for friendships. By having an open mind you have the potential to accomplish whatever it is you set out to do. I really wanted to skateboard while I was in Barcelona. I went from borrowing one from a stranger at a skate spot, to inquiring where a traveling German purchased his, to being loaned a deck from an Australian friend’s Catalan roommate.  It took some luck to make it to the point where I was carving Barcelona’s infamous concrete parks and granite ledges, but I did it. All it took was being genuinely interested in another person, the fact that they may be good looking is just a plus. As long as you’re genuinely interested in something, be it a hobby, an activity, or a cause, there will always be a means to participate in it. Maybe you’re into running? Almost every major city has a group you can join. Same goes for yoga. Do you play an instrument? There are open mic night’s everywhere. Maybe you want to dedicate a month to subsistence farming? Many CSA's will take you on immediately! All you have to do is seek it out and you’ll discover the world opens up to you when you’re open to it. This is a truth that’s really hard to disregard.

Another truth I’ve always knew, but really got to experience on the road is that spontaneity is one the most important keys to happiness. Routine and predictability put a lot of humans into ruts. It did to me. A lot of us aren’t experienced, or settled enough to handle the typical 9-5. That’s ok, because were not all the same, and we don’t all grow the same way. It takes copious amounts of spontaneity in some of our lives to reach a peak happiness. I also think spontaneity is important because when things happen that we don’t have planned or that we haven’t already thought about it tends to lead to a fresh experience. When you don’t create expectations or have any assumptions the only thing left is to fully live in the moment, and that's where the magic happens. No matter if you’re an adventure seeker or homebody, the world is always trying to give you the resources to live a positive and present existence. All you have to do is want to live it too.

Mastering Spanglish

Currently I’m sitting comfortably in an overnight bus ride across northwest Spain headed to Barcelona from Madrid. I decided Friday I would fork over the 150 euro round trip ticket (not a bad deal) and fly into Aeropeurto Madrid-Barajas. Originally I planned to stay two days in Madrid and four in Barcelona, but after talking with my Turkish friend Elif, she suggested that if I’m going to do Spain between Madrid and Barcelona I might as well spend more time in Barcelona, “You will know when you get there, just trust me!” is what she repeated multiple times through her noticeable yet still understandable accent.

             We ended up talking a good amount of time educating each other about our two vastly different countries. Turkey, largely located in Western Asia is still awaiting approval from the European Union to become one of its members, and for this reason Elif needed to acquire a visa just to visit Ireland. This made me grateful to have a US passport and I explained to her that although everybody thinks America is this amazing country, it's flawed in so many ways, beginning with our grossly indebted economy to our crooked political leaders. She told me that Bush made a bad move when he sent troops into Iraq, because this ultimately caused a civil unrest in her country. I never try to have my blogs too opinionated on political issues, so I’ll just end it there. 

            Back to the point, I ended up tweaking my itinerary (flexibility is key) and decided to spend an extra day in Barcelona, taking one away from Madrid. In effect, today was similar to the two day excursion I had in London a few years back. There’s just too much to see and do in these cities for only a couple days. I ended up flying into Madrid Friday night around nine o’clock and these are some of my first impressions of visiting a country where I was unable to speak the primary language, albeit while travelling solo.

Working with two Mexicans at a pizza shop the past few months turned out to be somewhat helpful, but what I was learning was mostly Mexican slang. You don’t hear people in Spain greeting each other with “Capassa Wei?” and cat calling “Chicas”. It’s more of a “Que-tal?” type of vibe. This made navigating the Spanish metro, which for some reason seemed even more confusing then the tube, a little difficult. However, it only took a couple trips to make sense of the layout. Without having European service with my iPhone I was, and still am left with relying on the old fashioned ways of maps and human interaction to reach destinations, which I enjoy. The difficult part is picking out the people you think speak English. There are many, many white skinned Spanish which throws a wrench into simple skin identification logic. There are also many dark skinned Spanish who speak English fairly well.

The first English speaking interaction I ended up having was on my first metro ride while sitting across a girl wearing orange soled Nike frees. I told her her American identity was a little obvious, which she agreed when I pointed out her black Northface backpack. She was from Raleigh, North Carolina and thankfully ended up directing me to Puerta del sol, the heart of Madrid just a few blocks from my Airbnb. I already knew from the emails I was getting from my host Lorie, who also lived in the two bedroom apartment, spoke zero English. Compare that to myself who spoke zero Spanish and our interactions made for a lot of pointing at objects, smiling and laughing. She ended up being very friendly and helpful however, as much of the Spanish are, by helping me find plug converters, maps and food among other necessities.

Casual Selfie with Lore, my AirBnb Host

Staying only one night in Madrid I knew I needed to experience the nightlife firsthand. The first bar I went to that night was essentially a disco party playing old American hits and some other English songs I had never heard before. The DJ even had a soul patch and a curly black afro. The first handful of Spanish girls I came across, who also thankfully spoke some English, greeted me with the double kiss I had thought was mainly customary in France. It’s actually quite mind boggling how open and affectionate the Spanish are. There really is no such thing as frowning upon public displays of affection here. The metro, the café shop, the street corner, the museum exhibit, you name it, there’s face sucking happening. If your're at a club they’re also very forward about asking your sexuality. I think it’s definitely good for some because if you're questioning yourself and mildly attractive you will be forced to declare a side, so to speak, if you have one. Take for example the bearded fellow who put his hand out as if he wanted to  shake mine while I was sitting on the edge of a stage chatting up a short-haired, bandana wearing Spanish gal who looked easily twenty something (she revealed she was thirty something and eventually went on to shut me down because I was "too young"). Back to the handshake from this spunky Spainard. I obliged his handshake only to have my hand lifted and kissed. He then put his other hand out and said, “Your turn”. I took his hand and brought it to my forehead, avoiding his advances yet still having some fun about it.

I can't judge a whole population on a single experience, but I can say that no matter what sexual preference they may have, the Madrid nightclub crowd seem like a ruthless bunch. The girl who I was talking to said she had been with only a few Americans before and that their respectful ways often threw her for a loop (this was not working in my favor). That made sense to me as some just want to cut to the chase, and  others may be drawn to arrogance for whatever reason. The Spanish really enjoy their drinks as well. You’ll often see three to four beer taps at the front counter of simple take out restaurants. Where as in America most bars that primarily serve beer will have decent food, in Spain restaurants that primarily serve food will have beer. It would be like Chik-fil-a serving bud light on tap. Tough to picture, yes?

Waking up yesterday morning with only a day left in Madrid I had a rough agenda set. What I was able to squeeze in included seeing Madrid’s most famous museum, The Reina Sofia, as well as their most famous park, Parque de El Ritero. The highlight of the Reina Sofia is hands down Salvador Dali’s most influential and critically acclaimed piece of art, “Guernica.” Originally part of the Paris 1937 Art Exhibition, the piece was used as a political statement against the oppression Spain began experiencing from the German bombing of Guernica the same year the piece was unveiled. So famous, that even using non-flash cameras were banned from the viewing area. Coincidentally, I choose to do an art review of Guernica in my art appreciation class a few years back, which may have influenced the chills that ran up my arms as I walked up to the over 25 foot long piece.

After the museum I took a jaunt across the street to Ritero Parque, a massive tree laden park with towering statues and a glass palace set on the edge of a lake. Like most parks around the world on a sunny day, Riberot was buzzing with activity. Everything from frisbee throwing, to roller blading to just lounging around seemed to define this park. It wasn’t until I reached the final strip when I got some much needed human interaction. Along this strip area they had ten foot long hubs attached to one another selling different genres of books. Off to the side of one I came upon a dark skinned Spaniard punching away on an old fashioned typewriter. At first I started looking around for a place to give tips, wondering what kind of act she was putting on. I soon realized Silvi, as she would later introduce herself, had no monetary incentive, she was writing her friend Mario a poem. Mario, a kind, dark haired fellow who offered me a sip of beer from his clear plastic cup was standing next to Silvi and grinning as he watched her punch away on the antique writer.

As she continued to type I told her about my writing background and she asked what kind of writing I did. I explained I had several preferences, poetry being one of them. She immediately asked if I wanted to write something and we somehow came to the agreement we would swap poems about each other. She typed mine first as I scribbled down in my notebook what I would type for her. When she finished she gave me a quick tutorial on how to work the dated machine and I was off, realigning the type face and crossing out several letters in the process. 

            While I was writing several of Silvi's friends came up to me and started asking what I wanted to do in Madrid. I told them what I had already done and then pulled out my notebook to to show them suggestions from friends. I went down the list and mentioned bull fighting might be something to check out. They immediately shouted, “No!! Do you know what happens at those fights? They slaughter the bulls!” I vaguely remembered hearing something about this and said, "So, you want me to cross it off the list?" "Yes! Justin, cross that one off!", Silvi pleaded with me. I agreed one hundred percent. Upon hearing my name, and in an extreme bout of coincidence meets divine interconnectedness, one of her friends immediately said, "Oh, it’s Justintime!" I replied, "Yes! You are correct (origins of this name can be traced back to here). Once Silvi and I finished typing we asked who should read who's first, and at first we said, let’s do it at the same time! Then it dawned on us that although this was an interesting proposal, it may not work out so well. So, she read first, and myself after. She had a nice free verse style, and mine was more of an attempted end rhyme scheme. Both equally genuine. This was Silvi's: 

During our poetry slam, an otherwise perfect seventy-five and sunny Spain day quickly became partly cloudy with some light rain. This became a subject in both our poems; hers is pictured above, along with a photo she took of me typing below. Before we parted ways she invited me to come out with her group of bohemian amigos who were headed to a restaurant just outside of the park. Had I not had a bus to catch to Barcelona in less than two hours I gladly would have joined them, but this is how life typically goes when your living day to day. She did offer me one of her pickled vegetables (a baby onion I think?), which I was originally turned off by, but then thought, sure. I accepted and we said our goodbyes as the Spanish do, with some cheeky kisses. That onion was quite scrumptious...

So far the Spanish experience has been much different than anything I have ever come across, but in a fresh, new way. It’s become quite obvious that you can find friendly and open people no matter where you go. Just make sure they’re not too friendly, or you may have a story or two to tell. Cheers!

Wickets In Dublin

            Three days into my second trek back to Dublin and already a different kind of journey has begun to take shape. When I was here three years ago I was studying abroad, but mostly touring, confined to an itinerary with a set stipend each week along with due dates for writing assignments every few days. Looking back now this gave me the structure I most likely needed at the time, so I’m grateful we had some amazing professors guiding us along the way. However, having a premeditated itinerary can create many limitations. What if you enjoy one town more then another and would like to stay longer and go back? Maybe you meet a group of people and they give you more reason to stay in a certain location? Many of us can’t imagine traveling without a specific plan set in place. There’s just too many unknowns. You may feel you are not in control when you’re living day by day, and yet, this is the journey I’ve chosen for myself.

When living in the moment is the only thing that matters you feel more alive and more real because of it. Now I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy my study abroad just because I had calendar planned out for a few months, I made some of my best friends and did some of my best writing on these trips, but I am saying  that having plans did tie me down, and when you’re untethered there’s no feeling that compares. Conversations can go anywhere, along with your feet. Expectations go out the window (another key part to living a satisfying life) and you tend to be focused in the present and overall you begin to start living at your best.

Take my first day in Phoenix Park for example. While I was experiencing the park for the first time I was awed at the sheer amount of open space in such a dense city. I had the opportunity to nap outside on what most locals were calling the nicest day of the year. After being awakened from a dream into seemingly another dream I started pacing the rest of the park only to come across a soccer field in the far distance just across the street at the parks end. Naturally I began walking toward it and to my surprise it looked like nobody was playing. Out of the corner of my eye I ended up spotting a group of guys playing what looked like cricket. And cricket it was. There were five of them; one from Pakistan, one from Brazil and the other three from Iceland. The Icelandic folk met the Pakistani while he was traveling in Reykjavik. The Brazilian they had just met in Dublin.

The Crew

As soon as I snapped a quick photo, one of the very few on these first couple days, the ball I had just caught frozen in the air on my camera had rolled right to my foot. It was the most cliché introduction of my life; I picked up the ball, threw it back, and then I heard “Hey! You want to come pay with us!?” For the next two hours I spent my time learning how to hit and pitch a cricket ball (a little harder than it looks). Afterwards the fellas cracked a few pounders and we began explaining the different paths that brought us to Dublin. It was nice to spend some time with people with similar mindsets, who understood the rewards of travel and joys of being in a fresh space. Reh, the Pakistani orchestrator of the group, invited me to come watch his actual cricket match the upcoming Saturday and I told I’d definitely come if I was still in Dublin. We then went our separate ways and I checked into my hostel which continued to literally and metaphorically open the doors to adventure stories and instantaneous connections.

Some of the closest fellow travelers I spoke with included a couple graduates from the University of Wisconsin, a Turkish Erasmus student currently living in Czech Republic, a  future Brazilian lawyer, and a pair of fighting Illini twins from chi town. I also had the good fortune of meeting a fellow American student at a show that was being played by an American electronic/pop group the night before. This American was spending the summer in Dublin with her family and working for an organization whose goal it was to prevent and solve the homelessness problem in Dublin. With all these new connections I was also able to strengthen some old ones as a good friend from our JMU club soccer team was in the area for his study abroad. Meeting new people is always a good time but there’s nothing that compares to seeing good friends overseas. It’s like seeing a new side to old friends because neither of you have ever been in a similar space like this before together. It also helps when their second to last night in a five star hotel is your last night in a country without having made prior bookings. Robby, if you’re reading this, you’re the man! Currently I’m in Spain and the next post will have some first impressions on that country, the people and their culture (so far). Cheers!