Real Women Travel Alone

From the movie “Steel Magnolias” —

Ouiser Boudreaux: Well, these thighs haven’t been out of the house without lycra on them since I was 14.

Clairee Belcher: You were brought up right.

If you’re a baby boomer woman reading this, you may have had a mother, like mine, who tried her dead level best to instill in you some really strange inhibitions that were supposed to help you maintain your respectability… you know, like wearing a girdle so your stuff wouldn’t shake when you walk and make you look like a "loose woman." Or, how about that thing about not wearing black patent leather shoes because they shined like mirrors and the boys could see up your dress? Oh, and never, ever go any place alone. Girls who went anywhere without a chaperone or group of friends were "just asking for it." 

I never did get a clear idea of what "it" was, but I knew by the stink-eye look from my mother, it must be something really, really bad. 

However, as a single woman, if I had waited for someone to travel with me, I never would have had an excuse to buy matching luggage... tell me I'm not respectable. So, if you’re single and you’re still hearing your mother’s voice in your head telling you, "Nice girls don’t travel alone," now is the time to respectfully tell her to shut up.

Making the decision to defy the teaching of my childhood wasn’t too hard. While I wasn’t actually a card-carrying bra-burner, I figured out by about the age of 16 that my mother was pretty out of touch with the new reality of womanhood. But, the decision did require stepping outside of my comfort zone. After all, I still didn’t have a clear picture of what the stink-eye "it" was. 

I can’t even remember what led me to completely throw caution out of the window and make a journey alone to a place where I had never been and knew absolutely no one. I just knew I hadn’t experienced even half of what life had to offer, and that wasn’t good enough for me. And, the years were getting shorter.

And, bless my mama's bloomers, I found traveling alone to have a rather intriguing set of advantages, especially for someone who loves observing. A solo traveler doesn't have the distraction of carrying on the conversations that are inevitable — and, let's face it, sometimes even annoying — when traveling with another person. You’re able to be much more attentive to your surroundings and the people occupying the space around you, some of which just might be infinitely more interesting than anything or anyone you now know.   

The planning of the trip was half the excitement because there are no necessary compromises to be made, no one else’s wishes to consider. In planning my trip, everything I selected, from the hotel to the activities to the restaurants, was aligned with only my interests, making the experience one of sweet anticipation. How can you have a bad vacation if it’s all about doing only what you want?  

There is the added bonus of being able to react to every experience with totally natural, uninhibited exuberance. Sometimes we hold ourselves back out of fear of "making a spectacle of ourselves," another one of those respectability mom-isms. If you’re able to celebrate without restraint, on a completely personal level, the moment automatically becomes a treasured memory.

Finally, there will most assuredly occur a time when a person is almost forced to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger and, if lucky, make a new friend. On each trip I’ve taken, I’ve encountered at least one person with whom I traded contact information and have maintained a correspondence.

Renowned British explorer and travel writer Dame Freya Stark wrote, “To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” Yes, ma'am, it certainly is! There is a quickening of the senses, a feeling of intrepid, youthful adventure, no matter what your age. Dame Freya lived to be 100. I believe I know why.

The Age of Enlightenment

In my last post, I ended with a promise that I would tell you how I became a believer that the period of life after 50 isn’t about slowing down, it’s about getting your second wind. On the downhill side of life, you can get through your days at a more relaxed pace. There are fewer demands and less urgency. The need to maintain the “rep,” “make the grade,” and keep up with the whozits has no significance. And, maybe that’s why so many people slip into a lifestyle of moderate imagination, gentle goals and sedate activity.

Now, don’t misunderstand me… I’m not advocating giving in to a mid-life crisis wherein you try to turn the clock back and relive your youth. Face it, no matter how young at heart you think are, your body is old; have some compassion for it. No, what I’m talking about is using the sum of the parts… putting together that feeling of invincibility you had as a 20-year-old, some of the drive you had in your 30’s and, for the sake of your old body, let’s throw in the maturity you gained in your 40’s — pool all those life stages and become an explorer of possibilities. Consider it payback to your kids for the many years you spent wondering what the hell they were going to do next. That sounds fair... and even righteous. 

While 35 and 40 used to be considered middle age, modern medicine has stretched that to 45 and, possibly, even 50, so you still have a lot of years left on this earth. The hard part is deciding how you want to spend those years. Maybe becoming a homebody who gardens and babysits the grandkids is exactly what floats your boat, and that’s great! The important thing is that you choose that lifestyle because it is what you want, not because it is what you think you SHOULD want. Grandchildren are great and the reward you get for making it through two generations of teens, yours and your kids'. I have two grandchildren myself. But, I’m their grandmother, not their substitute parent.

So, now we get down to the nitty-gritty of what this blog is about. Think about that wish list I suggested before. How would you end the sentence, “I really wish I had been able to…” For me, the finishing of that sentence was “…travel more.”

As I mentioned before, I have always been interested in history. I was born and lived most of my life in Texas, which has a glorious history that is vigorously taught at a very early age. I learned about the Alamo before I learned my parents had names other than “mama” and “daddy.” And, in school, it was only after spending an entire year learning Texas history that I was allowed to move on to World and American History. While European and Asian countries have histories that trace back for millennia, it’s pretty much about one ruler wanting to knock off another ruler, so he can claim territory and subjugate the inhabitants, in order to get more money from taxes to pay for the war he just fought to knock off another ruler, so he could claim the territory and subjugate the inhabitants in order to get more taxes… well, you get the picture. But, in American History, I saw fifty unique legacies of discovery and innovation, expansion and settlement, pride and shame, victory against all odds and heartbreaking loss… and I wanted to know more, but by experience, not by just reading about them in textbooks. However, travel was a luxury I felt I couldn’t afford, so I read… and read… and read. Then, in my mid-forties, life circumstances necessitated a move to Kansas City, which has an interesting and unique history of its own. I fell in love with the city immediately, in spite of the fear of a major life change, and yearned even more to see and smell and taste everything America had to offer.

As if by fate, something occurred that forced me to purchase airfare… a mistake I made in not reporting that expense on behalf of an executive I supported and, quite frankly, didn’t want to admit to making. So, I bit the bullet and paid for it myself. The airline and its fares helped determine the destination as Seattle, and thus started my age of enlightenment. Making that trip to a strange and interesting location, taking that one adventurous step of traveling solo, sparked in me a spirit of exploration, not just of locales, but of deep-rooted interests, hidden talents and undiscovered tastes. Travel became my real-life, hands-on, history-seeking gratification. Not all my trips are long distance. Weekend getaways can provide plenty of learning and adventure. But, at each of my destinations, I make sure there is one aspect of the trip that is a unique — or even outrageous —experience, and that I enjoy as much of the local culture and food as possible. (Please read about my travels under the tab of “Trains, Planes and Automobiles” located at the top of the blog.)

Very recently, I was trying to talk a friend of mine into taking a trip with me to the Grand Canyon. I mentioned that I wanted to take a helicopter ride into the interior of the Canyon. She wasn’t interested. When I asked her why, it was the usual excuse of the risk of a crash. I said, “Are you kidding me? If the damned thing does go down, it’ll be in a blaze of glory in the beauty and magnificence of the Grand Canyon! We’ll be legends to our grandkids!” I didn’t win that battle; but, I have every intention of winning the war against fuddy-duddy. Just as a viral joke suggested to me once, my ultimate goal is to leave this world in a long skid, thinking, "Woohoo, what a ride!"

Now that you’ve heard about my ongoing mission to combat decrepitude, I hope you’ll tell me yours! And, if this has inspired you in any way, I would love to know. Come back again, soon!