Frequently Asked Questions

So. Six weeks after returning home, I’m finally posting some last entries and some summary thoughts. I’m omitting some details: I skimmed over Brussels, because that was really more family trip than World Tour, and because I shredded a couple of those entries and subsequently imposed a temporary moratorium on family travel, as that is way more stressful than traveling alone around the world. We definitely had some fun, and saw some sights, and oh my gracious merciful heavens, the food....beer made by monks, and chocolate, and frites, and a whole place called Butter Street. It was great. So without further ado, on to FAQ’s since I’ve been home:


Frequently Asked Questions:

What was your favorite place?
Istanbul. Hands down. In fact, I have not let anyone get farther than, “What was your fa....” without saying, “Istanbul Istanbul Istanbul!” Why, exactly, is harder to explain. But then, I showed up in this gorgeous, exotic place in a gentle snowstorm, and was treated like a princess wherever I went, and was immediately assaulted in the best possible way with a barrage of colors and sounds and tastes and smells I’ve never experienced before. There are spiral strings of lanterns hanging in doorways, and minarets, and tiny winding European lanes, and kebap men who look like Luka from E.R., and hamam ladies who will scrub you within an inch of your life, and blue-jean stores sitting on top of Roman ruins, and waterways and bridges and palace harems and Turkish delight, and olives and eggs for breakfast, followed by tea on the rooftop overlooking Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque. The hawkers and shillers remember you and treat you like family every time you walk past, and they yell across the street and call you by name and ask how your day was, and you yell back things like, “Hey, Romeo, I just got back from Istaklal Street!” and it’s fun because his ACTUAL name is Romeo, and how often to you get to yell that?

Not to make this all about me, but I’ve been reflecting on this, and Istanbul is definitely the most “me” of all the places I went, or at least “me” as I’d like to be. I really enjoyed all of the places I went, but I’m not really the tropical surfer girl that matches Bali, or chic fashionista in Rome, or the Spanish night clubber, and so on. I’m not at home in places that feel rigid and culturally stuffy (coughPariscough); whatever the opposite of that would be, a place that totally embraced a floaty, free-spirited lifestyle, would probably also wear on me before long. Istanbul, however, is a perfect mix of traditional and bohemian; there’s a sense of being rooted in a European past, with a free-spirited flair, and all kinds of people seem to live there harmoniously. It’s old-world and modern, and eastern and western, and land and sea, and young and old at the same time. I like balance. I like harmony. I like inclusiveness. But mostly, I like colors and sights and sounds and smells and tastes, all together in one big riotous display, in a snowy fairy-tale city.


How in the world did you plan all of this?
Well- I had time for all of this to percolate, long before I left. I knew where I absolutely had to go (Borobudur), and which places would be nice if I had all of the time and money in the world (Kathmandu and Thailand), and which places shouldn’t be wedged into a multi-country tour (Israel). So, I went on the “Know Thyself” principal. It’s easy ahead of time to figure out your comfort zone in terms of accommodation, level of planning, pace, budget, etc. I relied heavily on hostelworld.com, and Lonely Planet. If you don’t want to share bunk beds in a hostel, you don’t have to. If you want to book cabs from your living room ahead of time, do it. If you don’t want to go somewhere, don’t, even if you feel you should. Move quickly, or linger, or change your mind. It’s your trip. And once you have figured out all of the above, my unsolicited advice is,

Do Not Apologize. You owe nobody an explanation, for any part of your trip: your choice to travel alone or with others, your pace, your must-dos, your omissions. I spent the first month explaining, defending, rationalizing to strangers who felt comfortable criticizing my choices and scolding me for moving too fast. I wish I had saved my breath. By halfway through, I had a couple of strategies. the “OH I’M SORRY, MY EARS ARE STILL STOPPED UP FROM THE PLANE. I’M HAVING TROUBLE HEARING YOU.” Say this about twice, just a little too loudly, and your seat companion will probably give up from the awkwardness. Deliberate misunderstanding is fun, too. One guy leaving Africa chastised me for not staying long enough to trace Livingstone’s footsteps. Which, actually, was not a priority for me. He then took issue with the fact that I have no plans to move to Africa. He said, “Next time I’m in America, I’m going to check and make sure you’ve moved!” And I said brightly, “Great! I’ll be there! So nice to meet you!” From here on out, I’m responding to such condescending people with a string of foreign words I’ve picked up: “Karibu! Merhaba! Chocoran! No speak-a! Non Schpreken!”

I mean, sheesh, it’s not like I didn’t give this any thought. I did. For months and months. And what I needed was not cultural immersion, or to sharpen my language skills, or to forge international lifelong bonds, or to trace the source of the Nile, or to rest for weeks somewhere quiet. I knew exactly what I needed. I needed motion, and possibility, and adventure, and to take in as many of the great sights as I could, in the time I could afford to travel. That semester I spent on crutches, and felt trapped and broken down and stuck at my teeny-tiny desk in that basement studio with all of the towering claustrophobic shelves, I got a GPS for Christmas. I cried. Because other than the rest of the people stuck in that room with me working 120 hours a week, I didn’t know anyone else who wouldn’t be able to use a GPS for years. Back then I really couldn’t see a time ahead when I’d be able to do anything other than travel the two miles back and forth between my house, where I spent up to six hours a day asleep, and campus, where I worked the other eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. Things got better. Much, much better, and I really loved the rest of my time at NCSU. But I still didn’t have any freedom to speak of- it was a big deal to accept a dinner invitation, let alone travel. So all I wanted to do, when I finally had the chance, was to hurl myself all the way around the world as fast as possible, and stand in all the great places I’d been studying, and breathe some different-smelling air, and be shocked by the bright colors of piled-up spices in the bazaars, and wade out in thigh-high water to ride a boat with a chicken, and fly in a bush plane out of Zanzibar, and people-watch in piazzas, and wrestle my way through crowds to take a picture of the Sphinx. None of this needed to be defended and explained to the people who felt free to criticize my choices; to them I say godspeed, and please go spend your vacation time and hard-earned money doing exactly what it is that YOU need to do, and I won’t judge. (You can tell it still rankles me though.)

Did you ever feel like you weren’t safe? Was it scary?
My personal philosophy is that the world, by and large, is a safe place. I behave accordingly, after taking precautions against the percentage of it that’s not. I registered with embassies. I took a few travelers’ checks, although they’re a pain, in case of purse-snatching. I got vaccinated. I took malaria meds. I trusted my instincts, and if a place felt iffy, I was extra careful. Thanks to two of my dearest friends, I even took an international cell phone, mainly because they are both attorneys and there is no point in arguing. And they bought it for me, and I appreciated it. Most of Raleigh had my passport info, and my bank knew exactly where I was. Having taken care of all of that before I left home, though- I proceeded as if I were safe, and I enjoyed myself, and other than common-sense behavior, I didn’t give it much thought.

You did all of this ALONE?
Surprisingly, I was never, for one second, really alone. And, for the record I am, at least internally, the most shy person I know. I love people but there is no question that I am an introvert. It’s documented. INFP. So, sure, there were a couple of moments which would have been more comfortable with company, such as arriving in the pitch-black pre-dawn darkness on a Grecian island, or walking the streets in Cairo. But a couple of important thoughts here. Firstly, it’s far more likely that your issue will be finding some alone time, rather than needing company. This is particularly true in places which don’t see many Americans these days, or places where you’re traveling in the off-season and you happen to stand out, or moments when you really, really need a bit of solitude and are suddenly surrounded by quizzical strangers. Secondly, the situations that are slightly uncomfortable are, I’m convinced, really good for you in the long run. People have commented, over and over and over, that I must be really brave to travel alone. I am not particularly brave, but I have learned to embrace awkwardness, because when you travel in strange lands, you are going to feel awkward, a lot. You are going to stumble over words, and make a gesture that you later remember is considered rude, and you are going to get lost, and fumble around with the currency. You may incur some Italian transit fines for not knowing the rules, and you may wreck a bike now and again. It’s all fine. In my daily life, it is so, so easy for me to avoid most of these things which make me uncomfortable. I’m not convinced that’s a good thing. Educators call it “disequilibrium.” It puts us in the zone. We learn. We grow. It’s good for us.

The third point here is really my favorite, though. When I said I was never really alone, it’s partly because of all the people I met on the road, but mainly because I have lucked out in the friends-and-family department back home. My Mom, who was not for one second comfortable with any of this, bought me my plane tickets for graduation, Christmas, and my birthday, which all happened within a week. She also wrote me a card for every single week I was gone, to open on Sundays. My friend Andie bought me a travel bag covered in guitars, which went with me everywhere. My friends Karl and Matt loaned me a compass, an ace Eagle Scout kind of thing which I pulled out now and then for figuring out things like, “is this temple facing east? Oh, they oriented it towards the sunrise!”, but the two times I was lost and pulled it out feeling a little shaky, I suddenly did not feel the least bit alone. My friend Jessica babysat my house so I had no worries about the home front while I was gone. My other friend Jessica gave me a crossword puzzle book: not just any crossword puzzle book, but one with a swank girly cover, and with all of the puzzles partially complete. She laughed about it being a “busted up gift” which I could toss out the window at any time, but I got through every single puzzle while waiting for flights and sitting on trains, and I had company the whole time. My bookmark for the puzzle book was one of my friend Chrisy’s “Intention Cards,” which we get out every now and then and draw one from the deck (one of the many reasons I love Chrisy is that she has things like New Age Casserole recipes, and decks of Intention Cards.) This particular card said something like, “the healing has already begun,” and by the time I caught that first whiff of Bali breeze, I knew it was true. My friend Virginia gave me a neon green suitcase handle that said “Travel Junkie” so I could spot it at the airport, and the most fabulous CD of travel music ever. My friend Tyler tried to buy me a carton of cigarettes, in case I got in a jam and had to barter my way out (Jessica of the crossword puzzles put a stop to this, but I totally appreciated the sentiment anyway.) I had no less than three households charting my progress on maps in their living rooms (my niece and nephew had me as a flag moving around their globe, until the dog ate it and I was replaced by a palm tree.) And I never once checked my e-mail in some lonely spot without someone checking in and sending news, or laughing about some story from my blog. I had a surprise “bon voyage” party, and a last-night-before-you-go dinner with friends, and a home cooked “Katherine’s home” dinner before I’d even unpacked.