Flying Solo

After a series of dramatic events I found myself with nothing holding me to the place I call home: no job, no house and no car. So I did the only that I could think to do, I left for Europe.

It was my first attempt at traveling alone. Although I've been traveling from a very young age (courtesy of a civil war, a dead dictator and so forth) this was to be my first attempt to head to a destination where I knew no one and where I had no business to conduct.

This has always been one of my greatest fears, being alone, stranded, lonely and lost. Many of my friends are proponents of this method of traveling, "You'll meet people," they would say. "You'll have adventures." My response was always, "Traveling with someone is better. It's safer. When you return you can retell the stories and relive them."

In addition, I would also remind them of the time, while in Paris, when my travel companion abandoned me. The cause was an argument over an ongoing source of tension that finally came to a head in the square in Montmartre and continued until we reached our hotel in Montparnasse. The next morning she informed me that she would be heading home that same day. "Good riddance," said the expression on my face but inside my heart was beating in a panic. What was I to do? Should I also head home? NO, I was in Paris! Who in their right mind would leave? Remembering my friends' accounts of traveling alone, I headed to the Left Band with its plethora of cafi©s. Surely I would meet people, make great friends and have a wonderful time on my own.