A Domino Effect

I know that there are plenty of free-spirited and ultra confident travellers out there for whom 14 days alone in a western European country would seem about as worrying a prospect as jaunting to the corner shop for a pint of milk.  For a solo travel neophyte like me, however, my upcoming trip to Italy is quite a big deal.

While I’m more content with my own company than lots of people I know, I can’t yet be certain that two weeks of travelling alone is something I’ll take to all that easily.  And while the logical, “it’s never as bad as you think” side of my brain is repeatedly telling me that I’m going to be back here in a month’s time, extolling the virtues of solo holidaying to anyone who will listen, right now, pre-trip, I have to admit to being pretty gosh darn nervous.

So in a bid to appease my pre-travel misgivings, and to focus instead on all the really great things that three weeks in Italy might bring (knocking back espresso alongside Milan’s suited and booted!  Attempting not to fall into the Grand Canal in Venice!  Pondering the myriad masterpieces in Florence’s Uffizi!) I’ve put together the following list of hints and tips to make the prospect of solo travel seem just a little bit less scary…

The whole point of a trip alone is that you don’t take your friends with you.  Real life friends, that is – no one said anything about your literary ones.  And seriously – what better way to stave off an attack of the blues than to bury your head in a book?  I’ll be making a specially planned trip to the library this week to stock up on holiday reads for all those cross-country train journeys I’ll be taking.  I’m also on the look-out for a beginner’s guide to Italian art, so if anyone has any ideas or recommendations, please leave a comment and save me from looking like the world’s biggest philistine.  Much obliged.

When I went to Rome two years ago, my friend and I took the wrong bus to our out of town hostel on the first night, only to find ourselves in a dark and all but deserted bus station on the outskirts of the city.  To us as a pair, this was little more than something to laugh about, and it made for a great story to recount when we got home.  If I’d been alone, however, this would have triggered supreme panic overdrive, possibly to the detriment of my entire holiday.  So this time around, to minimise my chances of getting lost and having a profoundly melodramatic public breakdown, I’ve booked my hostels in and around the central areas of the towns and cities I’m visiting, and I’m stocking up on easy-to-read maps.  While such an approach can be a little more costly than heading out to the suburbs and seeing where the wind takes you, as far as I’m concerned, sanity comes at no price.

When my boyfriend and I travelled round the States last year, we mostly stayed in private rooms in the hostels we went to.  Perfect for a little peace and quiet after long days of sightseeing, but not so great for getting to know the travellers around us.  While the dorm experience certainly isn’t for everyone (especially for those who simply can’t sleep without complete silence), the thought of being surrounded by people really appeals to me now, when I’m planning on doing everything else alone.  Having someone to chat to in the next bunk as opposed to returning to a quiet hotel room seems to me to be a pretty sensible choice for a solo traveller.  Earplugs at the ready!

It’s safe to say that the more I read about the places I’m visiting, the less apprehensive I feel about actually going.  While I’m not generally in favour of devouring absolutely every piece of information about a place before I actually get there (I like the element of discovery), a little bit of background research and perhaps a brief squint at Wikitravel can certainly help you familiarise yourself with a place before you go.  It also pays to know a bit about the transport system of a particular town or city prior to attempting to use it: if you at least know that there are four tram lines before you arrive at the station, you’re less likely to get yourself into a panic-stricken state of confusion when you do get there.

I’ve encountered a fair few “Oh my God you’re going ALONE”-type responses to the news of my travels.  Admittedly, these responses mainly came from people for whom a trip to a coffee shop without a companion would be totally out of the question.  But at the same time, unless you have rock steady confidence, and an unshakeable belief in your own plans (neither of which I always do) it can be difficult to ignore the naysayers around you.  I’ve found that the best antidote to someone expressing fear and horror at my plans is talking to someone supportive who is completely behind me.  It’s also worth remembering that while travelling alone probably isn’t for everyone, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it might not be for me.

Travelling alone has been on my list of things to do for years now.  I’m excited about the things I might learn about myself; I’m excited about where it’s going to take me; the people I might meet and the experiences I’ll have as a result of my decision to just do it, despite my hangups.  And besides, you only need to spend half an hour with some of the best travel blogs there are out there to realise that a) people travel alone and REALLY ENJOY IT (not just put up with it, REALLY ENJOY IT) all the time and b) I will never know if I might actually BE one of those people unless I go and give it a go.  Nothing more to say really!

What are your thoughts on travelling alone?

Image above from Flickr – Mamboman1.

So some of you may remember that way back in the dark depths of Winter I resolved to begin learning Italian this year.  Well, I’ve been plodding along with my audio course, my dictionary and my Italian novel for nearly four months now.  And while I’m still nowhere near capable of conducting a fluid conversation in my new tongue, I have gained what I consider to be a useful amount of knowledge, both for my trip to Italy next month, and beyond.

In terms of how I’ve been learning, I have to hold my hands up to having thrown the previously stipulated ’15 minutes a day’ rule out the window over a month ago.  Despite my best intentions, it hasn’t been easy to pick up my book every day, and if I’m honest, I have achieved quite a lot less than I was hopeful for by now as a result.  I’m not sure why it is, but life has a sneaky little habit of muscling its way in and disrupting even the best laid of plans, and as much as I do believe that it’s possible to make time for things we really want to do, it is a far easier thing to say than it is to actually implement.  Some days I’m busy, some days I’m tired and some days I just get completely lost in a brilliant book and I forget all about verbs and vocabulary.  That’s life, though, isn’t it?  It doesn’t always conform to control.

Having said all that, I haven’t given up. I may not have arrived at my destination yet, but I am still on the train, which is something to be at least a little proud of, I think.  And in spite of my snail-paced advances, I am still so happy to be learning a new language, and a new language as pleasing to the ear as Italian at that.  It also feels good to be teaching myself something new, and at very little cost.  When you can pay over the odds to be taught almost anything these days, there’s a very distinct pleasure to be found in going it alone, on the cheap.  In fact, in the nearly four months that I’ve been learning Italian, the only money I’ve spent on it is £10 for a dictionary.  Everything else I’ve borrowed from the library or found on the internet.  Evening classes at £7 a pop?  No ta.

All this reflection has got me thinking about why it’s important to learn languages.  Had you asked for my opinion before I would certainly have thought it a good thing to do, but I might not have been able to articulate my reasons.  So after a little thought on the subject, here’s what I came up with:

• Other languages often have words or phrases for which there’s no satisfying English equivalent.  Like “hygge” in Danish (means a general state of happiness and comfort), and “lagom” in Swedish (means just the right amount).
• Learning another language in any serious way always involves either learning or revising your own grammar, an exercise which will almost certainly have a positive impact on the way you write and express yourself in your everyday correspondence.  Invaluable (to me at least – I’m the kind of girl who will stop reading an otherwise good blog if the author doesn’t know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’.  Harsh perhaps, but it’s amazingly irritating to read).
• If you can speak a second language you will instantly become more employable.  Our politicians are never done banging on about global this and global that, but it’s true.  Language skills matter more now than they ever have done, and those who have will be streets ahead in the employability stakes of those who have not.  Just sayin’…
• You will give your brain a work out by sharpening your memory and forcing yourself to think on your feet.  Both good things.

And one more…

More importantly than any of the above, I think that learning a language – any language, to any extent – makes you a more respectful, open-minded and generally NICER tourist or traveller.  I become irrationally angry when I hear arrogant (and more often than not impressively sunburned) English-speaking holidaymakers bellowing the words “DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH” (note the absence of a question mark – they never ask, they demand) at waiters, shop assistants and hotel staff in foreign countries.  Are these people for real?  Do they seriously believe that they can swan around simply instructing people to bow to the English language with neither question nor protest?  Having such a palpable lack of regard for the linguistic culture of another country isn’t just a little bit rude, it’s downright offensive.  And while I’m not for a second suggesting that we all become experts in the languages of the countries we visit, I do think that putting a little effort into mastering a few basic words and phrases takes you a long way towards ingratiating yourself with the locals and perhaps even having a nicer time as a result.  We routinely expect it from visitors to our own shores so there’s absolutely no reason – other than one founded upon naked arrogance – why the converse shouldn’t also be true.  It’s common courtesy, and it’s also not that difficult.  No excuse really, is there?

Can you speak any other languages?  If so, what?  If not, would you like to learn?

Image above from Flickr – leonardo4it.

I mentioned in Monday’s highlights post that I booked myself on a flight to Milan last week, with little or no thought for the consequences.  It all came about sort of by accident, to tell the truth: I’ve got time off this Summer, I’m profoundly obsessed with all things Italian, I’m perpetually chomping at the bit to see more of the world and I got a nice little cheque in the post a few weeks ago to fund it all.  The timely combination of these conditions, helped along by some wildly out of character throwing to the wind of my caution, and the next thing I knew I was blocking three weeks in May out of my diary and scouring the internet for flights and hostels that would sit comfortably within my very shoestring-esque budget.  So far, the itinerary consists of:

“May 19th: Fly to Milan”

That’s it, that’s all I got.  The only other things I know right now are that I’m EXCITED, and I’m going ALONE.

I’ve never been on holiday alone before.  Ever.  I frequently take myself on solo day trips and I’m more than just a little fond of spending an evening or a weekend pottering around in my own company, but such pursuits are a far cry from flying off to a foreign country for a period of weeks and attempting to navigate my way across part/some/all of it by myself.  While I generally like to think of myself as an adventurous individual, I’m certainly no Chris Guillebeau, much as it pains a small part of my soul to admit it.

But don’t let me get all melodramatic.  I’m actually looking forward to this.  I like a challenge, for one thing, and I’m also rather selfishly attracted to the idea of planning and executing an entire trip with little or no thought for anyone else.  It’s not that I’m averse to travelling with other people, but as anyone who has ever had the joy of going on a group holiday will know, the more bodies there are the greater the feat of organisation that’s required to get the operation off the ground.  This time, it’s just me.  If I want to book a day trip to Lake Como, I can.  If I want to go to Florence for three days I can do so without having to draft a round robin e-mail and wait two weeks for the collective go-ahead.  Sounds appealing, right?

And anyway, where there’s a camera there’s a way to share my experiences.  And where there’s a credit card, there’s the option to fly home early if it all goes to pot.  And with those two all-important pieces of knowledge banked, let’s focus on the positives: FOOD! ARCHITECTURE! FOOD! LANGUAGE! FOOD! ART! FOOD!

What are your thoughts on travelling alone?  Have you ever done it?  If not, would you?

Image of Florence above from Flickr – foonus.

I’ve been neglecting you again, haven’t I?

In my humble defence, I have been horribly busy.  Friends have been coming and going for dinner and sleepovers, I’ve had a fridge delivered (it really is wrong to get excited about new kitchen appliances, isn’t it?)  and I’ve had presentations to make, training sessions to attend and essays to trot out, as well as red wine to drink, amazing films to watch (this and this) and early springtime sunshine to enjoy…oh life, it’s a wonderful thing!

Anyway, I’m back now, and I hereby promise to do a little better at the whole posting thing this week.  Starting with this one.  News!

My finances got a colossal boost on Thursday when I received a cheque from HMRC (opening the letter was eerily reminiscent of exam results day).  As it turns out, I have overpaid tax to the tune of around £700 this year, and what’s even better, I got it all back in one.  Now I’m all in favour of paying my taxes like the diligent and dutiful citizen I am, but what’s mine is mine dammit!  I have second-hand china plates and felt and lace to buy!  (Actually, I’m not going to use it for plates, or unnecessary but desirable crafting supplies.  Instead, I’m going on a little trip with it when I finish my exams.  Here, in case you’re interested.  More on this later.)

My boyfriend and I took ourselves daytripping au velo on Saturday, which turned out to be one of our best impromptu outings yet.  We cycled along the Union Canal in the direction of Glasgow and ended up in a little village called Ratho (above), which I have to say takes quaint to new and rather dizzying heights.  White-washed houses, stone bridges and picnic benches?  It was like something out of a James Herriot novel, and my chintz radar was screeching.  Here’s me with my obligatory flask cup of tea and overworked bike…

…and my newly-dyed hair!  I thought it was time for a little restyle, and seeing as I’d rather spend my money on lattes and newspapers than haircuts, I decided that a new colour would do the trick.  To be honest, it’s not hugely different.  A tad more lively, I guess.  At least it’ll keep the inner voice that screams “Your hair is booooooooring” at me on all too a frequent basis at bay for a little while.

And while we’re on the beauty note, I’ve stopped drinking milk.  From a cow, that is, not completely.  I’m trying a little experiment for a month or so to see if quitting dairy will encourage my breakout-prone skin to clear up.  I’ve struggled with my skin for as long as I can remember, and have tried all manner of lotions, potions and pills to make it better.  Giving up milk is a bit of a long-shot, but I’m willing to have a go.  In case anyone is interested, I based my decision on this article, which suggests there might be a link between the hormones in milk and breakouts.  Three days in to the experiment, and my relationship with soya milk is flourishing.  It doesn’t seem to alter the taste of tea too much, which was definitely my prime concern.  I could put up with abstaining from most things, but no tea?  Well, let’s not even go there.

What have you been up to this week?  Tell me tell me!

I’ve never been a particularly huge fan of Hogmanay.  I like ringing out a spent year and welcoming a new one in and all but seriously, the build-up?  It makes my chest tighten with anxiety and my nerves go to shreds.  Always has done.  Waiting for the New Year is like waiting to be picked in gym class at school, in all its stomach-curdling, spirit-draining ridiculousness.  On no other night of the year is there so much pressure heaped upon us to enjoy ourselves and for perhaps that very reason, on no night of the year have I so consistently and spectacularly failed to do just that.

The thing about New Year, I think, is the expectation that everyone should want to go out and party that comes with it.  Like you’re somehow abnormal if the idea of paying over a small fortune just to sacrifice your personal space to a bunch of drunk strangers doesn’t appeal to you.  What if you don’t want to get hammered and spent the bright new dawn of that New Year nursing a hangover and immersed in regret?  What about those of us who just want to have a relatively normal evening in the company of our favourite people?  See some fireworks, have a toast and a bit of a giggle and then just bloody well go home?

Well, now that I’m 24 and, you know, all grown up and stuff, I’m calling time on this madness once and for all.  My solution?  Turn the whole sordid thing into a holiday and escape to some place where no one knows me.  So this New Year – provided the snow clears itself up – my boyfriend and I are heading off to Oban (above), a lovely (so I’m told) fishing town right on Scotland’s west coast.  We’ve managed to snag ourselves a sea-facing room in a gorgeous-looking B&B for a really reasonable price given the time of year, and are planning on welcoming in 2011 in a cosy pub.  A cosy pub which will, all going to plan, have copious amounts of fine ale, a bunch of friendly locals and perhaps a log fire as well…

Minimum stress, maximum relaxation and enjoyment, no great expectations.  Just the way it should be.

What are your plans for the New Year?

Image above from Flickr – filippob.