Sort of Legal

VAGABONDING…

I spent the first three months of last year traveling solo in the US and Southeast Asia with no home-base apartment.  At the time, it didn’t feel like anything remarkable, perhaps because I was busy experiencing it and addressing the logistics of long-term travel like “where am I going to sleep tonight?”  Looking back, I’m really proud of myself for embarking on that adventure.

The Decision to Spend a Few Months Traveling…

I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of solo travel.  In 2009, when I was taking flights maybe once a year, I penned a short list of things I wanted to do before I was 30 which included “go on a solo trip for fun.”  I checked that off with a trip to Seattle and Portland in 2013.  Then, I began to have periodic thoughts about longer-term travel.  It was something I wanted to do, but there was never immediacy or a “great time.”  Life would take over and I’d forget until the thought popped up again.

Around August of 2016, I had one of those rare moments of clarity: I was ready to do some long term travel.  I needed to do some long term travel.   I secretly began to think about the logistics – I’d need to give up my apartment, I couldn’t afford rent and lodging at the same time.  Storage would probably be worth it for some items, but I should give a lot away.  I’d need to continue to work remotely while traveling.  I was already planning to visit Asia so could expand on that trip.

It wasn’t until around November of 2016 that I started openly sharing my plans, with everyone except my parents who I worried would flip-out (and that fear turned out to be justified).  The opinions, which I was not intentionally soliciting, were polarized.  People either thought it was a totally acceptable, fun idea that I should go for…or they could not wrap their heads around it:

“Why?”

“You’re going to give up your place?  It is really hard to find a place to live here.”

“You need to get serious about your career.” 

“Aren’t you scared?”

There is absolutely nothing that tests your convictions about a decision like criticism.  My convictions stood up.  There were, of course, moments of doubt – “OMG!!!  I’m not going to have a place to live!”  But, like I did with my decision to move to California from Florida, I kept coming back and reminding myself of that moment of clarity: I wanted to do this, I needed to do this, I could do this.

So, on December 31, 2017, I finished moving out of my apartment, with a partial assist on only one item.  Then I drove-off in dark, rainy conditions with only three things booked: my first night in California, a flight to Bangkok three weeks away, and five nights in Bangkok.  That was it.  As I drove to my adorable, woodsy AirBnb in Aguanga, I entertained schizophrenic thoughts: “What am I doing?!?!?!”  “I’m freeeeeeeee!!!”

That the floor just-dropped out from under me and I’m not sure if I’m flying or falling feeling that comes with not having a house, apartment, or other home base is simply unparalleled.  And if you’re wondering, my digital nomad experience was both flying and falling.

My First Day Solo-Traveling with No Home…

My first day alone was filled with a full range of emotions.  I began the day giddy when I unexpectedly saw snow and grew giddier as I drove through a desert in the same day.  The euphoria turned to frustration, fatigue, and uncertainty when confronted with a sketchy, club-like scene in the lobby of the Phoenix hotel I booked from the road complete with wall-to-wall people, blasting music, girls in heels, and a strong aroma of marijuana.

My skin color, leggings, and “I’ve got my Camelback (literally) and am ready for a hike” look did not blend in.  The lobby partyers were inebriated or just ballsy enough to have no problem staring.  I felt uncomfortable and possibly unsafe.  Recalling the neighborhood I had driven through to get to the hotel did nothing to calm my nerves.  As I checked in to the hotel, I simultaneously played it cool – like this was what checking into every hotel was like – to avoid drawing any more attention to myself while simultaneously evaluating whether I should stay there.

It was after 9PM.  I was tired.  I just wanted to be done for the day.  I had paid in-full, in advance.  It was not a cheap hotel (>$100/night).  I did not have an unlimited budget.  The idea of such a financial loss on Day 1, stung.  On the other hand, I had a bad gut feeling.  It would be virtually impossible to hide the fact that I was traveling alone.  I had an out of state license plate advertising my visitor status.  Most of my earthly possessions were in my car and it was easy to see that with a quick glance.

After checking in, I left and never returned.  (I did call to tell them I would not be staying there.)  I got in my car and just drove towards Scottsdale because I had heard it was a good area.  As I got closer, I pulled over somewhere that seemed safe, pulled out my phone, looked up some “brand-name” hotels, found a nearby Aloft, and booked it.  The Aloft was more expensive than the original hotel but I gained million-dollar peace-of-mind staying there.

Honestly, the original hotel might have been fine but I’m glad I didn’t take that risk.  It’s not worth it.

Pro tip: When traveling as a solo-female, a good way to find a hotel in a good area is to look up more expensive national-brand hotels and then check a map to find cheaper hotels close by.

The Rest of My Travels…

The specific situations varied but that first-day really set the tone for what [mostly] solo long term travel would be like.

There were incredible highs like working at a co-working space in Cambodia!  Seeing Angkor Wat!  Experiencing China Town in Bangkok!  Meeting friends in hostels!  Getting safely across the street! (In places like Bangkok and Hanoi, this is no easy task.)

There were also disheartening lows like getting lost when I needed to be getting work done. (You know to make money to pay for silly things like food and places to stay).  Arriving to lodging that had lost my reservation.  Power outages. Getting in a Vietnamese cab that attempted to drop me off at a train station in the dark, in a new city when that was not my destination. Dealing with a cockroach in the shower (really NBD in the grand scheme of things).  Immigration paperwork mistakes with only myself to blame.

There were times that I was so thrilled to be alone.  There was a deep joy in every small accomplishment, like “I just figured out how to use the BTS in Bangkok.  I’m a genius!”  and “damn, I just spent a week in Asia by myself…” (and then two weeks…and then three.)  I appreciated small, seemingly insignificant interactions and conversations with strangers in a way I never had before.

At other times traveling solo was f*&^ing tiring and I yearned not to have to make every. single. decision.  I wanted someone to just tell me where to eat dinner, or stay, or what to see.  I wanted to not be the only one looking out for me.  I felt safe throughout almost all of my travels but as a petite female, you have to be alert, you’re never 100% at-ease the way you would be sitting in a friends’ living room in the states.

Lessons Learned…

I’m no longer vagabonding – I have a small studio apartment on Encinitas, California (still traveling & working remotely) – but the fun memories and skills I developed during that period continue to shape and improve my life.

Traveling solo forces self-reliance.  You have to rely on yourself.  You have to solve your own problems.  There is no other option.  This was particularly true for me in Asia where I was on a 9 – 12 hour time difference and a 13 hour + plane ride away from all of my friends and family in the United States.

Traveling solo also develops self-trust.  Self-reliance is having to rely on yourself to do things.  Self-trust is trusting that you can rely on yourself in any given situation.  That you can tackle whatever challenges come your way.

When traveling alone, you don’t have anyone to make decisions with (a pro and a con) and no one is going to affirm that you’ve made the right decision in a given situation.  You have to trust yourself or you will lose your mind, both while in the midst of difficult issues and by the uncertainty of what could happen next.  When you trust that you are competent to handle whatever comes up, you don’t ruin your experiences by being in a constant state of concern over the future.

Self-reliance, self-trust, and the ability to operate in uncertain circumstances are skills I’m leaning on heavily right now as I begin 2018 in one place, Encinitas, California, with more uncertainty than certainty in my life.  (In brief:  I turned down a full-time offer from a business I’ve historically gotten lot of work from at the close of last year; I am certain that I want to pursue some non-attorney work but not certain what that looks like; and my dating life has no one in it, not even a casual fling.)

What lessons have you learned from traveling?