Travelling so high, travelling solo

When I opened Hitchhiking America in November 2012, I figured a series of vignettes from the road would make for the best reading.

Perhaps they’re exciting. But I’m not sure they do justice to the ups and downs of solo travel. If an entry reads like a thrill ride, I haven’t accurately captured life on the road.

Simply put, travelling solo can be tough. For every new adventure and unexpected experience, there’s plenty of loneliness and confusion. It’s as challenging as it is liberating.

In no particular order, here are some reflections on travelling alone.

1) The people you meet

More than anything else (scenery, location, food), the most rewarding part of travelling by myself has been the array of people who I’ve crossed paths with.

Meeting folks is easy. Whether it’s through networks like Couchsurfing, staying in hostels, or simply chatting with people on the road, I’m constantly finding new friends. More than a few times, I’ve been sitting happily at a table in Guanajuato or Oaxaca, having forgotten my friends were complete strangers just a few days earlier.

What’s particularly special is the wide variety of people I run into, something that simply doesn’t happen as often when I’m plugged into a routine and rhythm. I’ve made Mexican friends young and old, rich and poor, urban and rural. With a loose structure and an open mind, your scope of interactions is limitless.

Contrary to the advice we all get in kindergarten, strangers are pretty cool. During my experiences going solo through both the United States and Mexico, I’ve met countless people all too willing to offer me help, invite me in, give me directions, chat for a bit, or simply say hello.

When you travel alone, people take care of you. An important lesson I will remember and pass on.

2) Constant movement: hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye

With constant movement comes transience.

Many daily interactions are the same: routine three-minute conversations about where you’re from, where you’ve been, where you’re going, and so on. Perpetual momentum naturally keeps you near the surface. And, of course, operating in a new language often limits the depth of exchanges

Not all encounters are shallow – I’ve established close bonds with a number of Mexicans. But in all of those cases so far, there have inevitably been goodbyes.

I’m usually pretty social. But there are plenty of times when I’m simply unwilling to summon the energy to meet new people, preferring instead to hang out by myself. This solo time essential: I make sure to find a bit of (relaxing) time for myself every day.

3) Logistical challenges

Reaching a new destination (especially after a hitchhiking adventure) is both rewarding and exciting.

It’s also exhausting. Landing in a foreign environment by yourself with a heavy backpack makes simply finding shelter a challenge. It takes at least a few days to learn a city’s bus routes, find the cheap places to eat, make friends, and feel comfortable moving around. Often, putting one foot in front of the other is a tall task.

Living without rhythm, routine, and defined personal space is tough. Usually, I find myself spending a bit longer than anticipated in each location to get a better understanding of a new place and forge a connection with my hosts. I haven’t yet settled anywhere for the long term, but it’s a style of travel that looks increasingly enticing.

4) Taming a wild mind

People routinely ask whether I’m ever scared or uncomfortable hitchhiking, whether I’m uncomfortable in new cities, towns, or homes. That’s never my problem.

My brain has been the single greatest challenge to my travels so far. As a guy who contends with anxiety and a racing mind, solo travel has sometimes been a mental rollercoaster. I can spend the morning in freak-out mode, and then be on top of the world by afternoon.

One recurring battle is keeping my head in the present, rather than the past or the future. This battle often comes during the long periods of solitude and idleness that are inherent to life on the road. And given the uncertainty of my travels, there’s plenty of time to think backwards and forwards.

Usually, I need outlets for my feelings. But, constantly surrounded by strangers or new friends in a Spanish-speaking country, these aren’t always easy to come by: I don’t really want to burden new acquaintances with my personal mind games. This often means that emails and Skype calls with loved ones back home consist of me sharing worries and anxieties, rather the memorable and positive experiences.

5) Learning about yourself

For the past four months, I’ve had one person to worry about: myself. I choose where I want to go and who I want to talk to, what I want to eat and how to spend my time. What a privilege.

But it’s no vacation. Often, identifying and following my own rhythm and desires has been much harder than anticipated.

Some things I’ve found difficult by myself on the road: Making quick decisions, living out of a pack, the lack of long-term companionship, an uncertain future, almost always operating in a foreign language.

Some things I’ve found rewarding: Almost always operating in a foreign language, meeting new people and seeing new places, the freedom of going wherever I please, adapting to and enjoying new environments, learning about Mexico.

Through ups and downs, I’m finding out what I like and what I don’t like, what I’m good at and what I need to work on. I may not return to Canada having found the answer to life, but hopefully I’ll know more about myself and my needs.

6) Learning about the world

Travel is exposure. There’s no better way to dismantle barriers, stereotypes, and misconceptions about foreign places. In my experience, an on-the-ground education is the best kind.

Before coming to Mexico, I was urged by friends, family and strangers throughout North America to be careful, not be hitchhiking, and to maybe consider skipping the country altogether.

In some ways, those sentiments are understandable. While travelling through Mexico, I’ve monitored what sort of stories appear in the Canadian media: ones about narco violence, isolated instances of murder, and op-eds from (almost-universally reviled) former President Vicente Fox.

But in a massive and diverse country, these headlines are generally irrelevant to where I am. After more than three months (of what some would call ‘risky travel’) in Mexico, I haven’t felt unsafe.  I’ve encountered more friendliness and hospitality than in any other country I’ve visited. I’m often embarrassed to tell my new friends how their country is portrayed in Canada.

Travelling alone might also be the best way to get to know a foreign land. If you want a ride down the highway, you’ll be chatting with drivers. If you want to eat, you’ll be talking with vendors. And if you actually want to make friends, you’ll go out and meet locals.

Mexicans are exceptional people: welcoming and jovial, loyal to family, and proud of their country. They work hard, but know how to enjoy themselves. They live in the moment, appreciate what they have, and laugh a lot.

I’ve learned a lot. I guess that’s why I’m still here.