Let's Get Real: Making Friends and Hitting a Wall

In past blogs I have touched on the unique relationship travelers experience that is difficult for others to comprehend, but I am going to make an effort to explain it now because I feel like it's recently affected me greatly. Enjoy.

I would estimate that I meet an average of five new people every day. When I say "meet" I mean to exchange at least the simple pleasantries. Today I have been gone for 71 days. Using simple arithmetic I have met approximately 355 people since I left the US. Though an incredibly high number, it feels accurate.  I don't remember every person I meet (how could I?), but some of them have had a great impact on me. I enjoy speaking to everyone; hearing their stories, et cetera, but every once in a while I meet someone with whom I've got an instant connection. I am not referring to a romantic connection. Sometimes we just click right away. It was like that with Gilbert in Kyoto and it was like that with four English guys I met in Yogyakarta. Honestly, I probably had an equal connection with Roxanne from Jakarta, but I spent less time with her than Gilbert and the Brits. I got on really well with Lucas from Beijing, too, but it was not quite at the same comfort level as the other five....

Please bear with me in the incoherence of this post as I am trying to sort things out in my head as I write them down. This post will likely be the one most like a true journal entry: all over the place. So if you can wade through the mess and lack of organization, it will probably be the most interesting blog post to date. I wish you luck! I will, however, attempt a linear composition.

I met Roxanne in Jakarta and we traveled to Bandung together. We got along well and some Korean guys even thought we were sisters. We parted ways in Bandung after knowing each other for three days. I met the four British guys in Yogyakarta. Pree, Adesh, Jets, and Alpen had all just finished their final dentistry exams in the UK and were on holiday in Indonesia. I met them on their second or third day in the country. I spent a couple days with them in Yogyakarta, then they went on to Mount Bromo and eastern Java. We planned to meet up again in Bali. After some time in Bali we went to the Gili islands of Lombok. By the time they went back to England I had known them for two weeks and spent the last week solid with them. The only time I wasn't with them was when I was sleeping. And even then one night I fell asleep in their room (don't read into this- it was just sleeping).

When my dentists left I joked about sitting on the beach and crying, making the ocean even saltier than it already is. I wasn't as pathetic as all that, but I was in a bit of a trance for a few days. I wandered around the island like a zombie. Although Gili Trawangan will kind of do that to people, I was really sad. I can't tell you why I felt so morose when they left. I was called a "cold ass honky" at least once daily by these guys and accosted by desperate sarong sellers at Pree's insistence. I guess it was because I just got along with all of them so well. Actually, that's not a strong enough explanation. Let me try again. I'm going to go on a long tangent, but stick with me; I will circle back around.

My English Dentist Friends

One of the questions I am asked most frequently is "Why do you travel alone?" The long answer and the one I repeatedly give is: I like the freedom. I can wake up when I want, change my itinerary on a dime, do what I want when I want, and I don't argue with anyone. If I want to be alone I can be, but if I want to be with others, it's so easy to make friends. Hell, I have met 355 people in 71 days. That's pretty good. I also learn a lot about myself and I think I pay more attention to my surroundings.

The short answer I don't give very often because unadulterated honesty can sometimes bring conversation to an abrupt and awkward halt is: I don't have anyone to travel with me. When I went to Europe in 2011 I asked quite a lot of people to come with me, but everyone turned me down. There were multiple reasons (finances, time, families, and other commitments), but it all boiled down to the same thing- either I was to go alone or not at all. So I went alone and had a great experience. It was challenging at times, but in the end I was glad I didn't wait around for someone else to come along because I would have been waiting for a very long time (I would likely still be waiting).

When I went to South America last autumn I barely thought twice about going solo. The past year I had been living on my own and despite my best efforts had not made any friends since moving cities. So it really just made sense that I would go on another adventure alone and make friends on the way. Actually, that's not true. I asked one friend to tag along because I knew he would really like Latin America, but I figured he wouldn't come. Also, I will admit that I had been drinking a bit when I bought the plane ticket, so although the trip was premeditated, I did not try hard to find a companion. I went to South America alone and once again had a great time. In fact, I nearly changed my return date to stay longer, but instead decided to go home and plan the "big one" proper.

In Europe and in South America I met loads of people and I have even managed to stay in contact with some of the friends I made (thank the Lord for Facebook). I've said before that one of my favorite things about traveling is meeting new people- locals and especially fellow travelers. I have always had trouble making friends, but it comes very easy when I am abroad. It's just too bad I have to part ways with these people without knowing when, or if, I will ever see them again. It is an extremely bittersweet part of being on the road. Every time I say good-bye to someone I hope it will be easier than the last time, though it never is. So even though I have had all these great experiences and I do love traveling alone, I hate not being around people. I know it is good for me to be alone with my thoughts, but sometimes I can't handle it.

OK, I have taken the long way around. My goal was to portray my desire to make friends without exuding that oh-so-familiar stench of desperation with which yearning is often paired. I also want to express my need for, at the risk of sounding like a total hippie, self-discovery and inner peace. Yeah, that was super tree hugger-y. I hope I painted a proper, albeit long-winded, picture. I am well aware that the balance I seek is can be found only by walking a very thin line.

Right, so the gist? I want friends, I find them, then they leave and I am sad and thrown into a three day zombie-like stupor. All of that happened with Gilbert and it happened with the English dentists. It happened with friends I made in South America and Europe as well; and I am sure the phenomenon will occur countless times over the next year. However, most recently in Gili Trawangan it felt a little different. Maybe because Pree, Adesh, Jets, and Alpen were so awesome, though probably because I hit a wall.

This wall I hit was figurative, thank goodness, but a wall nonetheless. When the Englishmen boarded the vessel that would carry them back to Bali I was hit with a wave of emotion. I felt despondent and hollow, but I didn't know why. I had only known these guys for two weeks- that's nothing! But on the road when I rarely spend more than a couple days with the same person, two weeks is significant. I had been traveling for two months and now suddenly everything seemed like a massive effort. I knew I had to plan my next destination and I would make new friends (to whom I would soon bid farewell again), but I didn't want to. The acute sense of loneliness was overwhelming. I was not weary of traveling or even homesick, just...sad.

I wandered about the island for a couple days and made new friends. One friend was even another English guy whom I met up with later in Ubud; but I couldn't shake the nagging desolation until I got off of the island. To be honest, I don't know how long I was on Gili T. I think it was five nights, but I would just as easily believe that I was there a week. The island nearly claimed me as one of its own.

Now it has been about a week (I think- I really am guessing here) since the English guys left and I do miss them, but I have surmounted the wall. Depletion, destitution, and slight depression are not a particularly nice compilation of feelings, but I do am more content and I feel like I have gained some ground on my path to self-discovery. I knew when I left two months ago that this would be challenging at times, and now that I have triumphed the first momentous hurdle, I am confident I will be just fine down the road. Although ask me how I feel after six weeks in India.

Gili Trawangan, Lombok, Indonesia