Fear isn't always bad when travelling alone

I remember the first time I took a plane by myself. I must have been young, because I was accompanied by a stewardess in a bright blue suit. I got a big blue pouch that said “UM” for unaccompanied minors. I was the first to board the plane. I got a colouring book a bit bigger than my palm, and a pack of stocky colouring pencils. People next to me offered me a cookie. I accepted it, knowing I shouldn’t take food from strangers.

After the landing, I was the last to get off the plane. Golf carts zoomed me around the airport and delivered to my family waiting outside the luggage hall.

More than 10 years later the important parts haven’t changed. I take planes, trains, and buses myself. I pack my own sketchbook and pens. And now I can buy my own cookies.

Maybe my family is not waiting for me outside of the luggage hall, but I will see them soon, in one of my family homes.

Travelling alone, junior edition

Since I was a teen I travelled a lot to see family all over Europe. Once old enough, I would spend a week at my dad’s apartment in Paris and I roamed the city by myself while he was at work.

I was greedy for this freedom. for going wherever I liked, taking the train to go to any random museum. Eat whatever I want. I was obsessed with doing as much as possible in these precious moments.

Still, it was safe exploration.There was family waiting for me at home. People who knew where all the shops were, people to walk me home in the dark. How to see a doctor.

I travel truly alone for work, now. Yes, there are some colleagues in the city. But there’s nobody waiting for me back at the apartment or hotel.

I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’ve gotten scared of travelling alone. I'm lonely. Even more, I'm insecure: who is ringing my doorbell? Should I leave the restaurant early so I can get home before it’s dark?

Teenage hubris

When I went to Athens in July, I chose an apartment close to a metro station leading to the panel venue.

I arrived there. It was a calm neighbourhood. Pale, warm-coloured houses with closed shutters. Tags of graffiti, scruffy cars parked wherever. Lots of cars, few people. Doubts crept up my neck. It wasn’t exactly a shady looking neighbourhood. I tried to imagine what it would look like after dark. Even fewer people, probably.

Tip

We had dinner with the other panellists in the city centre that same night. Instead of having the evening walk in Athens I craved, I rushed home with anxiety cramps in my stomach. I was afraid of what I would find once I got home in the dark.

I felt silly. I’ve lived alone as a student. Plenty of times, I’ve cycled home alone in the middle of the night, unbelievably drunk. I was never afraid. Perks of living in the Netherlands.

So what has changed? Getting older, methinks. A better-evolved amygdala that recognises dangers is more aware that it doesn’t know a neighbourhood. Oh, I do miss the hubris of adolescence.

Street smorts

Also another thing. I moved out of my studio a few years ago to live with my partner. It’s been a long time since I have been truly alone. I lost the habit.

All in all, gaining some fear is not bad. It’s a healthy dose of adrenaline that keeps you sharp. I’ve lived or stayed in big cities for big parts of my life. It teaches you some skills, like awareness of your surroundings, especially other people. A bit of adrenaline only makes your senses keener. I don’t mind going out alone in Rome, right now. I keep my ears open, and my wallet at home, if I can. And I stride more or less confidently into the night to pick up my mom, who’s come to visit me, from the station.

Being scared is not something to be afraid of, in other words. And no, I’m not talking about my mom.