Early & Alone #29: The Pleasures and Perils of Solo Travel
I booked the trip to Miami after I found out that I was getting a settlement from my ankle case, but before I lost my job. My thinking was that every winter, I lamented the fact that I’d neglected to book a weekend somewhere sunny and warm. This winter, I decided, was going to be different. So I booked a weekend in Miami Beach, a part of Florida I’d never visited and that ticked all of my winter-getaway boxes: warm, sunny, easily accessible from Boston, with a beach as well as other attractions and culture.
Given my anticipated windfall, I booked a fancier-than-typical-for-me hotel via the Priceline Express Deals feature, which gives you pretty good discounts on hotels--the catch is that you don’t know the name of the hotel until you book, and it’s nonrefundable. But for me, it took away the anxiety of choosing from the many beach-side hotels in Miami Beach, and I was happy for the mystery aspect of it.(You can specify the neighborhood, your price range, and the star-rating of the hotel you’re looking for using this feature.) I ended up at the Nobu Hotel, which was FINE but honestly not the 4-star experience I was hoping for. I feel like it was kind of a Holiday Inn in Black Tie--a decent hotel room dressed up with a pretty view, some fancy lighting, and SUPER EXPENSIVE extras. The walls were paper-thin, the air-conditioning didn’t totally work, and the elevators were pretty much on the verge of breaking down at any moment.
I did my best to quiet the peevish voices in my head telling me I’d made a mistake and spent too much money on a weekend trip (especially given my current employment status) and reminded myself of the reason I was there--sun and warmth and relaxation and a change of scenery from the bleak Boston winter. After all, it was only 2 and a half days. Couldn’t I relax for that long?
The thing with solo travel is it becomes loaded with expectations, as though every trip is going to be an Eat, Pray, Love-level epic. You can’t help but imagine the new friends you’ll make, the exciting adventures you’ll have, the sexy men you’ll meet and end up talking with into the wee hours of the night, like Before Sunrise. This is fun until you remember that you don’t actually like talking to strangers all that much, and instead of spending all night at a bar or club, you really just want to go back to the hotel and watch Netflix in bed. Still, you can’t quite shake those images of what solo travel has the potential to be.
One of my favorite columns in New York Magazine’s The Cut is called “I Think About This A Lot” and earlier this week, it featured the Paris trip in Frances Ha, one of my favorite movies. What’s so effective about that scene is that Frances is desperate to escape her life in New York and foolishly books a last-minute weekend trip to Paris. Instead of the movie-trope of life-changing, epic excitement, the trip is a complete failure. She ends up sleeping away most of the trip because she’s so jet-lagged and bored--it’s one of the most honest portrayals of solo travel I’ve ever seen in pop culture.
We book vacations longing for escape, and in that escape, part of us longs for a solution to whatever problems we’re facing. Hate your job? Take a vacation! Want to get away from the kids? Book a vacation! Want to escape the winter? Take a vacation! But the vacation doesn’t change the fact that your job, your kids, and yes, the winter, is still going to be there, back in the real world, waiting for your return. The first thing I did when I got back from my trip was shovel my front steps after nearly killing myself trying to climb them with my luggage and airport-friendly slip-on shoes. So much for escape!
There’s also the not-insignificant issue of loneliness in solo travel. While I spend a good deal of time alone in my daily life, it’s rare that I go more than a day or two without seeing anyone I like, given that I live with roommates. It’s fun to go out and explore a new city but for me, it’s a little hollow, not being able to share it with anyone. Sure, I posted a lot of Instagram stories from my trip, but that’s not real interaction or connection. Also, Miami is a city of beautiful people, looking beautiful. It was extremely triggering for me, to be honest, because I’m struggling with what my body currently looks like, and being alone in Miami was not the BEST for that situation.
HOWEVER, on both this trip and my trip to Puerto Rico last spring, I ended up having pleasant and fun interactions with attractive male strangers, something that very rarely happens in Boston. Maybe vacation-me is less self-conscious in some way? Perhaps our vacation selves are more outgoing and brave because it’s not “real life” and hence, the stakes are much lower? You’re probably never going to see that cute guy again, so why not just strike up a conversation?
In Puerto Rico, there was Josh, the adorable and much-younger guy staying at the same place my sister and I were staying. I’d see him around the hotel at breakfast, reading his book and being adorable, and tried to figure out his deal. He looked like he was alone, but would also sometimes talk to other guests? Maybe it was a work thing? My sister left a couple of days before I did, and on the first night I was alone, I walked out to the beach at sunset and sat at a little bar, reading a book and drinking a daiquiri. (Ok, so sometimes solo travel is not the worst.) As I was getting ready to go find some dinner, I looked up from my book, and adorable boy was sitting a couple of stools over. My heart pounded and instead of asking for the check, I got another drink, and after a few minutes of deep breaths, I leaned over and said, “Hey, you’re staying at the Dreamcatcher too, right?” We talked for a while that night, and the next day, when we saw each other at breakfast, he called me “Hemingway,” because I’d told him I was hoping to write that day. That night, as I came in from dinner, he was lying in a hammock and I heard him call “Hey Hemingway!” from the shadows, and then we sat in the courtyard and talked more--about Puerto Rico, but also about our lives back home, expectations, hopes, etc. Nothing happened, but it made me feel like I’d made a friend out there in the world.
In Miami, I headed to Wynwood on Sunday morning and spent the day there, wandering around looking at the art and shopping. It turns out that I enjoyed that far more than I had enjoyed the day before, laying on the beach and using the jacuzzi and being lazy around the hotel. In the afternoon, I headed to a brewery, where I sat at the bar and drank some beer and read my book, How to Hate Men When You Hate Men. Not only is the title amazing, but it’s a purple book with bright pink text--a really eye-catching book, which was perhaps intentional on my part. The crowd thinned out a bit as the afternoon went on, and I noticed a tall, blond, bearded guy sitting one stool over, drinking a flight, clearly alone. When I got up to use the restroom, I asked him if he’d watch my book. He agreed, and when I got back, we started talking about the book, he picking it up to flip through it. The conversation segued into dating, and he revealed he had a girlfriend, back home in Atlanta. His name was Dennis and he was originally from Germany and we spent an hour or two, drinking more beer and talking. Endearingly, he hadn’t brought his glasses because he didn’t want to carry them, so had to put his sunglasses on, in the dark, to actually see anything. Every so often, he’d put his hand on my arm, and when we left the bar together, he did the thing where he put his hand on my back. Now, I’m not a monster, so when he asked me if I’d eaten yet, I told him I wasn’t hungry, because hello, girlfriend at home. Not that he had any sinister intentions either, but it just felt safer to separate myself from that situation. So we friended each other on Facebook, hugged, and I waved as he got in an Uber...and then I cancelled mine and went to get tacos, alone.
What I’m Reading: I just started The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner. It’s gotten mixed reviews, but I really liked The Flamethrowers, so I’m reserving judgement for myself.
What I’m Watching: I just treated myself to the last season of The Americans, one of my all-time favorite shows. I don’t have an Amazon Prime account, and I don’t normally pay for television I can’t access via the other streaming options I already pay for, but I knew I had to see the conclusion of this series. I’ve binged several episodes this week and Phillip line dancing and Oleg in a beard….*chef’s kiss.*
What I’m Listening To: On my vacation, I finally started listening to “The Dream” podcast that everyone seems to be raving about. It’s about MLMs and it’s funny and smart and really interesting.
What I’m Wearing: Perhaps spurred a bit by vacation loneliness and boredom, I wandered into the Le Labo store in Wynwood...and proceeded to smell every scent they had and ask the salesperson many questions. She was super helpful and patient, and gave me some good advice--before I bought anything, why didn’t I spray some of the scent I was thinking about on, then take a walk and see what happened? Well, what happened is that I couldn’t stop smelling myself, so I went back an hour later and paid A LOT of money for a bottle of Tonka 25. But it smells amazing and I’ve been looking for a “signature scent” for a long time, so...no regrets.
What I’m Eating: On my first night in Miami, I booked myself a reservation for dinner at Pao, a restaurant run by Paul Qui, one of my favorite Top Chef contestants. I was disappointed to learn they don’t do a tasting menu on the weekends, but I did get a fancy cocktail in a unicorn-shaped glass and a mushroom “bistecca” which tasted EXACTLY like a steak, but was just a giant grilled mushroom. It was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. The art and atmosphere were also pretty fantastic.