In good company

Travelling alone has such a special taste to it. It takes good feet and thick skin. Getting lost, talking to strangers, trusting your guts.
I used to be scared of travelling alone. It made me uneasy. Not because I didn't feel safe, but because I felt like I didn't belong. Like I was a trespasser. I felt exposed and out-of-place.
I guess I never really liked my own company. Same way I never like to hear my own voice.
I don't know when it changed. It must have been subtle.
I first noticed that the dread of spending a day by myself somewhere I didn't know had lessened when I visited a friend in Birmingham last summer. She was working all day long so I was on my own. I had plenty of empty hours to fill. And I made do.
I found places to visit, Museums to get lost in, Movies I could go to. I made a list of things I could do and off I went. I wandered around the city, walking, gorging myself with the small details of the city. The light in the trees, the skyline, facades and window sills decorations.
Once I had a plan, I got on with it and the unease left.
I guess that's just that: I only needed a plan. No matter how imprecise and incomplete.

Here, the challenge is bigger, because I can't speak the language. But I marvel at the resourcefulness it brings out in me. The quick thinking, and gut-trusting.
A good sense of direction, a vague idea of what I want to do, a list to check and a good pair of shoes. That's all I need in the end.
The awkwardness hasn't entirely disappeared but I'm slowly discovering how to change it into a sense of challenge. The same way being afraid of everything made me bold.
I slowly get to see how I can be a good travelling companion to myself.

Because I am alone with myself, I can take in everything. My attention is undivided.
I take it all in.
The sounds, the sights, the smells, the way my feet move on the uneven ground, the way the shade is a relief. I devour the world and feed it to my inner-world, so that later, when I'm lost in the triviality of daily life, I can dive in and find solace in the memories. So that it can slowly decay and turn into fertile ground for new stories. New pictures. New adventures.