In some respects, I'm a lot like Ally MacBeal if she forgot to be anorexic and go to law school. Luckily, I've had no hallucinations of dancing babies. Well, at least not yet. Given this fact, it would be understandable to assume that I probably like traveling by myself, that I probably see it as some sort of testament to my Independence and power over my own destiny. Instead, I hate it. All of the things I like to do when I travel suddenly become unappealing. I don't want to eat dinner alone or stare at gorgeous sunset by myself. In addition to this, the joking around I like so much and the chit chatting I relish become pretty impossible, too. Ironically, while I am a bigmouth who loves constant chatter, I don't like talking to strangers and usually don't.
Not everyone agrees with me. I see many independent travelers out and about. At the risk of sounding alarmist, I must confess that it is the female alone travelers who are in their 40s and 50s that consistently send shivers up and down my spine. They are usually wearing bright colors and whimsical hats. They attend dinner armed with books that they seem extremely engrossed in while they eat silently. Perhaps unfairly, I have always assumed that if you travel alone and bring a book out to a restaurant you have probably already purchased your third or your fourth cat. You probably even plan parties for them and try to dress them up in novelty costumes.The whole scene always makes me pretty certain that if this guy came around wanting to put a ring on it, I'd have to give it some serious thought despite my extreme fear of clowns.
Traveling alone does not make me feel sexy or feisty like Shirley Valentine. I'm sure she had a great time meeting a handsome Greek with a serious moustache with the sparkling blue ocean in the background. However, when I watched part of that movie I couldn't help thinking that I had seen way too much of Shirley Valentine. It's not that would class myself as not sex positive [when one of my uncles suggested making buttons that said No Sex For Seniors because he felt it was gross and unnecessary, I did not support the idea.] However, I also didn't have a big need to see Shirley Valentine in her birthday suit. I came away from that movie feeling like I hoped I would not be tooting around Greece looking to score when I'm old enough to be a Nana. It did not make me want to book a trip for one to any sexy islands.
Traveling alone makes me feel a lot more like Steve Martin in The Jerk. The few times I have had to eat alone in an actual restaurant I always feel like I'm in that scene where the spotlight is on him as he eats alone at a table for two. I have many friends who always talked about how great traveling alone was and I have just never understood it. I feel like I know myself pretty well. Me and me do not need a week or two weeks to get to know each other any better. At the end of the day, it is probably because I'm just not a loner. I don't play solitaire or do crossword puzzles. In fact, in reaction to my presently reduced social life I have begun to openly laugh and respond out loud to emails and facebook postings as if they are part of an actual conversation. I both love and hate Mark Zuckerberg for this.
I mention all of this because I am about to spend two days in Bali before leaving for Australia. My hotel is booked. I have found a Bikram Yoga studio. I have not packed any hats and will not be reading any novels over dinner. I also refuse to adopt any cats while I'm there. this should be made easier by the fact that most of the cats here are pretty terrifying looking and seem like they really want to scratch your eyes out.
Maybe my feelings about solo traveling are not totally valid. Maybe I am just buying into age old female stereotypes I'm supposed to be too smart to believe in after reading both The Second Sex and The Female Eunuch. Be that as it may, I still think that getting too comfortable reading books at dinner in silence just can't be a good idea.
When I was in high school one of my English teachers whose husband had left her used to describe the special book stand she had purchased which would enable her to turn the pages of her books while she ate dinner alone at her house. This image still haunts me.
That same year I had a history teacher who was for some reason always sweating. He made up for this fact by being hilarious. He would show us slides from his trips to Europe that would include lots of scantily clad beach goers and then ask us how we liked the view. The man sure knew how to freak out a room full of private school geeks and virgins. I appreciated this even though I was a bit of both myself. He also played the sax and had a big, sexy Italian girlfriend. One day after class he told me that we had more in common than I knew. I still have no idea what the hell is was talking about. However, it still makes me feel a little bit relieved.
