As I sat on
the steps around what perhaps is the busiest square in the country, I could not
help but think that this was one big mistake – one big waste of time and money.
All my fears were turning out to be real. Who was I kidding - solo travel was
not my thing. And this was only day one. An entire fortnight to pass before I
could fly back to my nest!!
Contrary to
popular notion, the city of Amsterdam was anything but inviting till then. I
had struggled to find my hostel and on more than one occasion was turned a deaf
ear to by passersby while asking for directions. I had nothing planned for the
day – in fact I had nothing planned for the entire trip except where I was
going to stay – quite in contrast to what people generally associate me with.
As I reached my hostel, my hope for socializing just then also vanished when I
found out that most inmates preferred partying after dark and sleeping away to
glory during daytime – at least my room did say so. Not my style! The day was
fast progressing and I was getting a bit impatient too.
Forward two
hours, I was at Dam Square – a place one could hardly define with anything less
than ‘vibrant’. And yet there I was - forlorn, sitting on the sides and
thinking to myself ‘how long?’ Wasn’t solo travel about finding new friends,
hanging out with the happening set and doing whatever you want to – whatever
you could not have done earlier? I saw the crowd in front of me and all I could
see was groups, couples and friends – all with happy faces – all but me.
Disappointed,
I left the place, got plugged in and started walking aimlessly away from the
crowd – trying to reassure myself futilely that I was going to admire the
architecture and canals of the city and salvage the day – whatever was left of
it. After I had wandered for about an hour, I thought of giving my legs some
rest and halted on a bridge. I saw an elderly couple sitting on a bench facing
the canal and asked for their permission before roosting next to them. It was a
nice vantage point to observe the most watery city in the world and to calm
down my unsettled nerves. It was time to give in and make peace with the fact that
I was not going to have it my way.
I looked at
the couple and tried to read them while they were beholding the city with a
blank expression – or so it seemed to me. Their expression remained so for as
long as I tried reading them – no matter how frequently I could peek or
howsoever long I could stare at them. I was intrigued – either they were at
peace or more panicked than I was. I decided to take my chance and strike up a
conversation. It started with a meek ‘hello’ and was supposed to fill in during
the small interlude I had taken before I could again ‘get busy’ admiring the
architecture and the canals!
Forward two
hours, there I was - away from the bustling Dam Square, away from the exciting
performances and away from feeling alone in the crowd – hooked on to the story
of a wonderful woman who used to fly as air stewardess on international routes
years back. Her husband and she were from Cataluña – North Eastern Spain. She
was struggling a little with her English while her husband could only understand
it in bits. For two hours before and next one after that, I hardly felt that I
was in an alien place or sitting with strangers. We talked about the history of
Spain and Cataluña, we talked about old and young, we talked about money and
lack of it and we talked about family – while I felt for a moment like I was
with one. They told me their story and it was a story so full of colors - all
sorts of them - love, passion, ambition, disappointment, frustration and
perhaps hope!
Gone were
my anxiety and fears. To thank the lovely couple for the great favor they had
done to me, I offered to buy them drinks. It almost seems funny now that it was
the only time I bought someone drinks - I did not buy for that cute Mexican
girl or that interesting American woman (save those sniggers!) but I did for
them. I wish I could have raised toast to their company and a great three hour
I had spent on that bench, but sadly we were not allowed to take the fancy
glass mugs out of the cafe and had to be content with paper cups. Yet, those
swigs gulped down sitting on that bench would remain something special for me for a long time.
When I said
goodbye to them and turned back to head for my city canal tour, I had a smile
on my face, swag in my steps and song in my head (no kidding! Timberlake never before sounded better with 'Can't stop the feeling'!). You can blame
me for being melodramatic, but heck it was magical and easily one of the best
experiences I had in those fifteen days of an unforgettable trip. Yes, there
were other amazing days as well and more on that in later posts, but this did
set the stage and prepared me to make the most of next two weeks.
Now, I am
no expert in telling you the technical stuff like the difference between a traveler
and a tourist or give you tips to manage a Euro-trip on a shoestring budget.
But I can tell you something that I learned from this experience and followed
throughout to ensure each of my days was something I could remember for long –
you see I am writing this post after about 3 months and still can recreate most
of my time there in my head. Traveling solo is nothing like traveling in numbers
– no matter who you include in those numbers.
From the
time I set sails (actually took off), I had a very wrong notion of it. It is
about making new friends, it is about doing hitherto undone and it is about
having fun. Yet it is more. I am not sure but I strongly believe you have other
means to make new friends as well – and that depends on the chances of finding
like minded people. Traveling only gives you the chance to meet more people –
though the hit ratio is only as good as finding new friends in any social
congregation. It is just a number game. You can do the so-far-undone pretty
much anywhere else too – it kind of depends on how badly you want to do it. And
having fun – well you can have almost anywhere – and yes, I mean all the wild
ideas you can conjure up after I said that.
I believe
it is about exploring – not so much the place but yourself. World is a noisy
place – so noisy that it becomes difficult to listen to your own voice at
times. Doing the regular would only make you self-aware to a limit. If you want
to know yourself further, do the not-yet-done or better still - go beyond, do
the not-yet-thought-of. If you had asked me two years’ back if I would ever go
solo to tour countries thousands of miles away, I would have laughed it off. It
might not sound this big a deal to you, but for someone whose world was limited
to within 30 mile radius of his home till entire school, it is!
P.S.: Some
obvious questions answered in advance:
Q1: What
took me so long to write this?
A: One, I
wanted to make sure, that the impact I had was a lasting one and not a high or
a hangover of the trip that would wane in days to come. Indeed it was. Two, I
sought my inspiration from a bunch of travel enthusiasts whom I met recently –
some of whom were so interested in my trip that I felt it would be worthwhile
to invest some time in penning it down and make it readily available to the
interested ones rather than keep repeating the same story over and over again
and get bored of telling it one day.
Q2: What
was their story?
A: Now I am
not going to take the sheen off from their story by attempting to write it here
- for more often than not how good a story is – is as much conditioned upon the
audience and the context as it is on the storyteller. You have to be in that
frame of mind as I was and in the exact same shoes as I wore that time to
really celebrate that story – and my ask would be nothing less than celebrating
it. So, sorry but no sorry!
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