This post is a bit of a reflection on the nature of solo travelling, the kindness of strangers on the road and my own limitations when it comes to trusting such kindness.
In the first post of Kuala Lumpur, I mentioned a fantastic walking tour I did of the city. The guide was an excellent storyteller and he kindly sent a few warnings the day before about the nature of the tour (mostly focused on history) but also its physical demands. How it was long (a little over three hours), how it was hot and humid, ensuring that we knew what we were signing up for.
On this tour, we were few. There was me, a retired British couple, a Spanish woman likely around my age, and a retired Canadian lady. Three solo travellers and one couple. The person I want to specifically talk about is the Canadian lady – she was lovely and immediately someone I found myself admiring. She sold everything back home and decided to use her retirement to travel the world. She was 63 years old and used to be a teacher. As admirable as it sounds for someone her age to leave the comforts of home to travel the world by herself, what I admired was her attitude. She had a bubbly disposition, and positivism radiated from her. I can only hope I’ll get to that age with the grace and the bravery this woman carried with her.
And remember when I mentioned the widespread and easy-to-miss scams with accommodation in Kuala Lumpur? She had been a victim. Booked a lovely apartment, just to be sent somewhere decrepit. The fact she was a victim didn’t surprise me at all – because she also came across as very gullible, with some sort of naivete about her.
Let me be frank. She wasn’t the image of health. She had a condition that can really impact the ability of one to travel, especially on their own. Described it as “a bad knee”, but it was clearly more than that. It was visible to the naked eye that there was something wrong with her legs in general. Remember that the tour guide had given us multiple warnings about the length and potential physical demands of the tour. In the beginning, she seemed fine – but always needed some sort of assistance to go up and down any stairs (even if it was just a few steps). Eventually, she did say she required surgery, something involving knee replacement.
She said there was always someone to help. She was truly relying on the kindness of strangers – whether it was to go up any stairs, to carry her luggage, or anything else. And I admired this at first – how many times I wondered if I am being too suspicious of everyone, expecting scams at every corner, expecting locals to see me merely as an ATM to take advantage of. I have become a hyper-independent being, I struggle to ask for help, to ask for favours, and sometimes even for something as simple as advice. Whether it’s because I’m afraid of being purposely misled, I am also aware I want to draw as little attention as possible to myself. Also, I hate bothering people – I always assume they will be annoyed by me. Whilst I know I am at an extreme (working on myself to find a balance), I also don’t think that believing there will ALWAYS be someone happy to help without anything in return is a healthy way to live – and especially to travel.
As a solo traveller, there is an undeniable certainty – for most of it, you are on your own, and can mostly rely precisely only on yourself. And whilst it’s okay to ask for help, for information, everything has its limits.
My admiration for this lady soon turned into a peculiar kind of annoyance. Sure enough, as the tour continued, the sun rose in the sky and the temperatures remained high and strong, her legs started to give out. And of course, her initial shiny personality started to dim. Instead of just calling it a day, confessing she couldn’t go on anymore, she persisted – slowing everyone down, with the poor guide almost having to carry her. And then, the complaining started.
After my first reaction – how impressive, admirable and brave she was, travelling independently – I was starting to question why the hell she was on this walking tour in the first place, especially when it was mentioned so many times how physically demanding it was going to be. She didn’t have just a bad knee. She could barely walk! So of course, maybe reconsider the idea of participating in a walking tour, where you are expected to be walking and standing for three hours in extreme heat. Towards the end, she bluntly stated she wasn’t feeling well at all and everyone was scared she was going to simply pass out. Then the hunger came. Despite her initial Canadian loveliness, she could now barely mask her crumminess.
She was bringing the mood down. The guide was clearly trying to go as fast as possible to liberate us, even though she was the only one in a rush to finish – whilst, ironically, also slowing us down.
This lady had lived all of her life in a world very different to mine. A world where others were there when she needed them, a world where she could do whatever because she felt entitled to it. And whilst I do believe you can travel solo at any adult age, even if you have any conditions, it is important to know your limits. It can be hard sometimes to navigate it – especially when in the travellers’ world people shout about adventure, seeking the uncomfortable etc – but it is all about making it a good experience for yourself, ensuring you are not interfering with the experiences of others.
The last hour of the tour was darkened by this lady’s mood and our fear she would really blackout at some point. It made me reflect upon the narrative that we in the Western world are told so many times – that anything is possible, age isn’t a constraint, nor is illness. But it really isn’t like that – there are limits and boundaries to everything. I’m fortunate that I’m a relatively healthy person who can travel by herself without many issues – but I am aware of my own limitations and I avoid getting myself in situations that will be unpleasant and even potentially dangerous to myself and even others. Even as a woman travelling alone, I have to be aware that it’s probably not the safest idea to explore neighbourhoods at night by myself in a place I don’t know. I also have extreme vertigo – and my experience in Langkawi was scary, as I really thought I would pass out.
Being careful and mindful about the experiences and activities you decide to participate in doesn’t make you less brave or less of a traveller. It makes you a conscious one. And no, not everyone you’ll find on the road has good intentions, and most might even try to take advantage of your vulnerability, of your foreignness. This doesn’t mean you have to be suspicious of every single stranger and should ask for help – but this means asking for directions, asking for recommendations. It does not mean knowing you won’t be able to walk and expecting someone will be there to carry you. And whilst this awareness is incredibly important as a solo traveller, it’s nothing to be forgotten about when you aren’t travelling alone.
Be a conscious traveller and tourist.
Love, Nic
The Winged Bone 