Solo Travel ≠ Solo Terror

Sagrada Familia
A stained-glass window inside the Sagrada Família in Barcelona. This may very well be the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen in my life.

I spent the last week toting my cheap plastic carry-on and backpack around Geneva, Zurich, and Barcelona. The whole trip was planned a little last-minute; I had no idea that my program had a “reading week” where there was no class and just gives you time to complete some midterm projects. Like most other students, I immediately thought that I should take advantage of the cheap flights out of London and head to mainland Europe, so I planned the whole thing with help from my parents sort of last-minute. Originally, I had wanted to go with some other people, but everyone seemed to have plans already, or there was too much coordination that needed to happen, so I just shoved everything in my bags and headed down to Heathrow by myself. 

Originally, I hadn’t thought that I would enjoy travelling solo as much as I would travelling with someone else. But, my overwhelming curiosity about the delicacies of Swiss chocolate and fondue and if Spaniard Spanish is that different from Latin American Spanish got the better of me. Both are beautiful countries, but I’d rather focus on some things I learned from travelling alone instead of just telling you that yes, there are beautiful mountains in Switzerland, and that no, you cannot ever escape clueless American tourists in Barcelona. 

There are two main things I learned from this trip.

One, push yourself to do things that you’re curious about, even if you’re alone. 

I came into study abroad wanting to exercise my free will, and I think I have become significantly better at doing so. You will not always have people to do things with you. Yes, it’s nice to have a plus one to go and do something, but it should never become a crutch. Since I’m an only child, you would think that I am perfectly used to doing everything alone, but this isn’t exactly true. I did things with my parents, my friends, family; certainly not going on an international trip by myself. The main thing is that when you are by yourself, making mistakes that are small seem a lot bigger when you’re alone. For me, if I’m with a friend, I can pretty easily laugh things off, but it can be a lot harder when I’m alone. Something I’ve found that helps me just go out and do things alone is to start with manageable small things, like going on a walk in the park or going to a coffee shop for an overpriced drink. Every time you avoid these little discomforts, you’re only reinforcing the belief that you can’t handle it. Don’t think about it too hard.

Bacalao
Bacalao is dried and salted codfish, I had it at a restaurant with garlic alioli and potatoes at a restaurant where I saw a group of older Spanish women smoking outside. It was one of the best seafood dishes I’ve had in a long time.

Truly, people do not care about you and are not thinking about you as much as you think. A plus one is nice to have, but it shouldn’t become a crutch – there’s nothing stopping you from going and doing something you would normally do with a friend, just by yourself. For me, this mostly applied to the anxiety of eating alone at a restaurant. You don’t have to awkwardly pretend that you’ve just been stood up by a date when you eat alone. Order a drink, read something, or just people-watch. The restaurant is getting your money anyway, so there’s no reason for them to be upset with you for existing. Taking up space is not a crime, so don’t be afraid to do so.

Or, think of solo travel as a matter of convenience – you don’t have to spend any time negotiating your itinerary with anyone. If you see something you’d like to do, you can just do it without someone in your ear saying “I’m hungry”, “let’s go back to the hotel”, “I don’t really want to do that, but okay”.

Two, be a responsible and considerate tourist, no matter where you go. 

Púlpito
Arroz negro con pulpito (black rice with little octopus) in Barcelona again. I don’t think I ate a single piece of land-based meat in Spain.

In London, it’s actually quite hard to feel like a tourist sometimes, unless you are in a hotspot like Borough Market or Big Ben or Buckingham Palace. The city is just so big and dense that you get lost in the sea of people. Also, as an American, speaking English makes the city easy to navigate. Besides, I live here now! So I’m not exactly a tourist anymore. 

But in Switzerland and Spain, tourism is a lot more obvious. I’m going to take a second to hate on my fellow Americans. I find that social media tourism has become incredibly common nowadays with people my age. It is more typical now to find restaurants and attractions on TikTok, or even worse, use AI to give you an itinerary (note: I actually despise AI. It makes you a secondhand thinker once you start abusing it, not to mention the environmental impact it has). I grew up with my parents using Rick Steves books to get a sense of what to do, and I largely did the same to plan this trip. I went to the library after class the week before I left, and picked up two travel guides for Switzerland and Spain, respectively. In the library, I just sat and took some notes on them. I quite liked the physical act of searching for what to do in these other countries, giving me the sense of being a 1700s explorer (colonizer) planning out a route on some poorly-drawn map. The walking tours and restaurant recommendations I found were delightful. On social media, people are often paid to promote certain spots, and they are usually overpriced because they sit on main streets or pricey areas. What I found, both in the books and just wandering around, were spots that are a little quieter, or busy with locals (meaning: they are the real deal). Why only subject yourself to predesigned spectacles? Travelling, to me, should be seeing the sights, yes, but also seeing how people live in another country. It gives you perspective on how you live your own life in comparison. 

Zürich
A lot of birds sitting on this tiny roof in Zurich. I wonder if they understand German?
Montreux
The view of the mountains from Montreux, Switzerland. I took a little day trip here, and the view is so majestic. France is on the other side of the lake!

Anyway, English sounds like an alien tongue to me after French in Geneva, German in Zurich, and Spanish in Barcelona. I had gotten so used to speaking Spanish in Spain (my mom is Bolivian, so I am proud to be fluent) that I looked at the poor British Airways flight attendant like she was an alien when she said “Hello, welcome aboard!” 

Thank you again for reading!

Alexandra

What It’s Like to be a Seafood Boil

The Northern line tried to boil me alive this week. 

On Monday, I was going to Old Street station like usual to get to class and noticed that the train to King’s Cross was taking far longer than usual. Normally, the trains arrive every few minutes, so you won’t have to wait very long after you get to the platform. But I was waiting, and waiting, and waiting… and still, the train hadn’t arrived. More passengers poured onto the platform, and soon there were people filling up almost every inch of the place. Then, an announcement: the Northern line has been severely delayed due to a signal failure at Stockwell. Surely, this can only be a delay around Stockwell, right? Moments after the announcement, the train screeches onto the tracks in front of me and the horde of passengers. 

Noodle
The most splendid noodles from Lanzhou Lamian Noodle Bar in Chinatown. You know your food is about to be excellent when the restaurant is full, the staff are all yelling at each other in a language you don’t understand, and you’re not totally sure what’s in the bowl in front of you.

The train is practically about to burst. People are pressed against the windows, squeezing between bags, backpacks, arms, legs, coats; it seemed like there was hardly even room to wiggle a finger. 

Lettuce
Liz Truss was Prime Minister of the UK for exactly 50 days in 2022. A head of lettuce lasted longer than she did, oh dear. It seems that people everywhere hate their politicians.

I was going to be late to class if I didn’t catch this train, so I preemptively moved towards the yellow line at the platform edge. A few passengers get off, sweaty and sighing with relief as they exit the car. By some TFL miracle, I manage to squeeze into the end of the car, feeling guilty as my backpack definitely smacked someone’s small child in the face. The doors slide shut and the train moves on. People everywhere are sweating, the scent of skin, perfume, cologne, and the musty seats all mixing together to form the lovely TFL signature scent on steroids. For the next two stops, I think I finally understood what it was like to be part of a seafood boil, as the seafood. Just like crabs and shrimp and prawns and lobsters, the people on the tube don’t speak and just suffer through the cramped heat in silence. 

When I got to King’s Cross, I think I was fully soaked with sweat, from only a two-stop journey. Splendid! And I didn’t even make it to class on time. When I walked into the lecture five minutes late, my professor asked me if I was doing okay. She was justified in her observation; my face was shiny and my hair a mess. This is what TFL will do to you. 

Though the London Underground is the most expensive public transit system in the world, it is known personally victimizing its riders with delays and disruptions exactly when it’s the last thing you need. The Northern line is a problem in particular, since it’s actually the busiest line out of the 11 (Weird, right? I would’ve thought it was the Central line, since it’s supposed to be “central”, and all…). Would highly recommend looking up “TFL Status” and checking if there are any delays or disruptions along your usual route in the morning before you need to be anywhere, lest you be caught waiting and waiting and waiting for a train car might try to suffocate you to death. Or, just take the bus. 

When you aren’t worried about being steamed by people’s body heat in a stuffed tube car, you will have the leisure to look up and see the stops on the line and some advertisements along the upper portion of train cars on the tube. Poems will sometimes replace the ads on tube cars.  I wouldn’t consider myself a poetry person by any means; I developed a very sincere hatred for Robert Frost in high school because of his overwhelmingly simplistic rhymes and themes (“two roads diverged in a wood and I / took the one less traveled by”, seriously? I could write that, so why are you so famous, Robert?). I still find the selection of poems on the Underground to be fairly entertaining. I think my favorite one I’ve seen was this one on a Victoria Line train (I forgot to take a picture of it on the train, but here it is): 

Poet

I’m going to do the thing that everyone hates about poetry and find an underlying meaning when there appears to be none. I thought this poem was funny in a way that makes you feel like you are slowly going insane like the author. I too, am fond of “am I bananas?” But I think this poem is more about making do with what you have; by rearranging “I am a poet / I am very fond of bananas”, you get a lot of combinations that do still make sense. I interpret this as making things to do with what you have, rather than finding things to do all the time. You might be in the same area most of the time, either going to/from class, buying groceries, etc. But there is always something new to do that exists outside of recommendations from TikTok or generating ideas with AI (I’m actually a pretty big AI hater. If you can’t make a grocery list or draft an email or find things to do without ChatGPT, you have the survival skills of a banana). It could be as simple as just taking a different route home, maybe stop at an interesting cafe or shop along the way. 

Dishoom
Mutton Pepper Fry from Dishoom, a well-known upscale chain of amazing Indian street food in London. Would highly recommend this and also the Pau Bhaji. Also, my camera roll is mostly becoming food.

I’m going to be wandering around Switzerland and Spain next week, which I am very excited about. Currently, I’m writing this as I sit in Heathrow Terminal 5 waiting to board my flight to Geneva. Au revoir, tschüss, and adiós, for now. 

Thanks again for reading!

Alexandra