you actually socialize MORE during SOLO travel | birthday trip | travel diary
I traveled to the continent of Africa, for the very first time… ALONE!
Yes, I traveled across the world, from the United States of America (Los Angeles, California, to be specific) to the country of Morocco, on the northwest corner of Africa, all by my little lonesome. This isn’t my first time embarking on travel solo as a young lady, but it’s definitely the farthest I have ever been away from home.
a world map showing the location of Morocco, on the continent of Africa, highlighted and circled in red
photo: Google
“Girl, what?! Where else have you been alone?”
My first solo trip to somewhere I’d never been was to Miami Beach, Florida, in 2016, not too long after I’d graduated from college. During my latter years at University, one of my courses required us to submit to a small film festival of the professor’s choosing. After learning about the impact of film festivals, and what it takes to enter one, I wanted to attend a big one. As a longtime lover of Black culture, it may come as no surprise that, after doing my research, my googly eyes were set on the American Black Film Festival (ABFF).
Serving in leadership roles on campus and always being the one trying to organize activities showed me that people aren’t always the most dependable when it comes to making (and following thru with) plans. My mind was made up that I was going to ABFF — I couldn’t chance someone else pulling out, messing with my plans. So, I booked a bunk (bed) inside of a youth hostel in Miami Beach and went at it alone. Yes, I stayed in a shared dormitory with men from foreign countries coming in and out. That’s a story for another day… oop! Actually, I told it already. I’ve taken it off my YouTube homepage, but you can click this link to watch the video-blog (vlog) I made during my first time in Miami.
Enjoy this unlisted YouTube video of my first time in Miami here. (yes, CLICK HERE!)
Aren’t you afraid?
No. I actually didn’t realize there was anything to be afraid of, or that this was a bit wild, until everyone’s reaction was a dangling jaw or an initial loss for words.
When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Everyone had this moment of confused surprise because no one knew. Did I mention that I did not tell anyone I was taking a trip to Africa? No, I don’t think I have. It may have been implied with my first entry into this here travel diary, when I said “I snuck out of the house today,” but that could have been taken as I simply didn’t want anyone that lives around me to know.
My grandfather froze on the phone. My mother almost cursed me out. I’m back in L.A. now and my best guy friend, Calvin, is still giving me lectures about how I better never do that again. And one of my girlfriends from Louisiana, my road dog for the past couple of years, had an attitude with me for days (but that’s nothing new).
The first people to know were those subscribed to my email list. I sent out an email blast with the subject line “hey there, from overseas..” when I landed in Morocco. I didn’t even re-download Instagram until about a week into my trip. I quietly took my narrow behind to another continent.
Okay, maybe I was a tad paranoid..
The only thing that scared me a teeny tiny bit was my rideshare driver’s interesting idea of a joke on the way to LAX. He asked me where I was going, which is a normal question on the way to the airport. Then when I told him Morocco, and that I was going alone, and that I had never been, he was stunned and asked me if there was a special occasion. I told him that my birthday was in a week, and he asked my age. When I answered, he said, “Ouu, 27?! … 27 is a wonderful age to die. Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse, … [you’d be amongst great company] that died at 27, you know?” Yes, I do know, but that definitely isn’t what I want to hear as I’m about to be in a metal tube soaring thru the sky for 16 hours! What. The. ****!
I kept imagining myself floating in the Atlantic Ocean, taking ujjayi breaths to warm my body from the inside, as I wait for a helicopter to spot me and drop down a rope rescue ladder.
Like.. what do you even do when you’re alone somewhere?
Yes! It’s easier to make friends when you’re traveling alone because, in a way, you’re forced to! You’re a human, your natural instinct is to interact with other humans. When you travel somewhere with people you already know, you have your human(s) to interact with, you don’t need to interact with anyone new. When you’re traveling alone, the only way you’re going to interact with another human (in-person) is by interacting with someone new. You don’t have a choice.
You make new friends when on a solo trip.
Think about it. When you’re on a trip with people, you have them to ask what they think about an excursion idea, or what looks good on the menu, or how much they would pay for a souvenir. When you’re on a trip alone, these thoughts will still arise in your mind, but there won’t be a preset person to talk to them about, which means you’ll either keep them in your head, or, more likely, you’ll use them as a natural conversation starter.
You’ll ask a local if he’s ever been to the desert or ridden a camel. You’ll say to a nearby table at a restaurant, “ou! what’s that you ordered? it surely looks good!” You’ll see a fellow tourist with a henna tattoo or braids and ask how much they paid for the service.
You’ll continue conversation and see that across languages, across cultures, you’re both human. You’ll explain certain sayings from your language. You’ll listen to understand practices from their culture. You’ll be amazed. You’ll do some amazing. You’ll giggle. You’ll make friends.
eating a traditional Moroccan dish, tajine, with some new friends at My Loft in Casablanca
That’s exactly what led to the picture above. I was eating (alone, of course), in the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel where I was staying. I’d filled up my stomach, and decided I’d sit there for a bit, instead of going up back up to my room. As I was sitting there, the hotel associate invited me over to eat with a couple from France that was also staying at the hotel. He felt comfortable asking me to join them because he and I had already held conversation.
Us girls chatted in English, having no clue what the boys were talking about in Arabic, as we all shared tajine, a traditional Moroccan dish. If it was a topic we wanted the whole table to hear, we would say it in all three languages: English, Arabic, and French. By “we”, I mean they. I was the only person at the table that wasn’t bilingual. I like to believe that I know French, but my stay in Morocco proved otherwise. (French is the country's primary language of economics, culture, commerce, medicine, and sciences and it is used in government and schools as well.)
Samantha, the girl in the picture, would say something in French for me if I couldn’t explain it in English terms they knew. Though Karim, the hotel associate, speaks enough English for work, he knows more French, and his native tongue in Arabic. After Samantha would translate from English to French, her boyfriend and Karim would say it to one another in Arabic to confirm understanding. It was fun, and interesting.
Next thing I knew, I was hanging out in the French couple’s room until the wee hours of the morning, when it was almost time for them to go catch their flight back to France.
Alone, but never lonely
I’m very appreciative of everyone I met while in Morocco. And though I met plenty, and had good times with them, I was alone majority of the time. While I was thousands of miles away from home, my family and anyone I knew, in a completely new and foreign country, all by myself, I never once felt lonely throughout my stay.
I told y’all in my first travel diary entry, joy comes from within. That applies to negative emotions, such as loneliness, as well.
Being alone is the physical state of not being with another individual. Being lonely is a psychological state. It’s easy to conflate the two, and try to “fix” the feeling of loneliness by filling up space with people. Take a tire, for example, you can “fix” one that has a huge hole by putting a patch on it, and though it may get you by, there’s still a hole in the tire. In that same way, you can surround yourself with people, and though that may get you by, you can still be lonely on the inside. Solo travel moves you away from the patch and towards a brand new tire.
No matter how many strangers you talk to in passing, or how many new friends you make, at some point, you’re forced to sit with you. And don’t take forced as a bad thing. It’s good.
Sitting with your thoughts is good. Sitting with your emotions is good. Sitting with yourself is good.
If you can sit with you, and be good, you can sit with one or one million and be good.
