Wandering alone: A note on solo travel
Lake Como, Italy
I was walking through Navigli on my first night in Milan, heading toward a 4.8-star restaurant I found on Google Maps, when a waiter outside a bar waved me over. My first instinct was to keep going; I mean I had a plan. But then I thought, why not? The people there looked happy enough.
He sat me at a table out front, and I ordered a spritz (the only thing I drank this entire trip, and who knew there are so many kinds? Limoncello is my favorite one.) Once I settled in, Kindle in hand, I was ready for my favourite outdoor ritual: the triple threat — reading, eating, and people-watching.
Not long after, the same waiter lured in two more solo wanderers, seating us in a neat row at the front like some unspoken club. A guy next to me and a girl next to him. She had her Kindle too. I thought to myself, people passing must think this is the singles bar.
I was waiting for my menu when the guy asked if I wanted to share his. We started talking - about food, travel, where we’re from, and anything else that came to mind. Halfway through our pasta, we realised we didn’t even know each other’s names. We decided to turn it into a game: guess each other’s name before the meal ended, or part ways never knowing.
We managed to guess the first two letters before cheating with Google. His name was Charlie. We walked to the metro together and said goodbye — no contacts exchanged. That wasn’t the point.
It was the first evening of my six-day solo trip, and it gave me exactly what I’d been craving: the freedom to let plans be suggestions, to welcome detours, and to stay open. To the world, to strangers, and to my own thoughts.
This note was originally published on Substack - click here to continue reading 🫶🏾
