Freedom to be Independently Alone

Personal independence is viewed as a positive in the west.  In fact, freedom often goes hand in hand with ones ability to function on her own.  “Be strong enough to fend for yourself.”  “Earn your own living.”  “Learn to enjoy your own company.”  The ability to see a movie by yourself, enjoy dinner on your own, and the ultimate, travel to far away places, is a prized pinnacle of independence achieved by few as a mark of personal strength.  Check, check and check. 

The west’s ultimate freedom to be alone is redefined in India, like everything else, into:

“Are you lonely?” as aptly phrased by the only English speaker I met on the government bus headed to a small town at the foot of the Himalayas.  He was asking whether or not I was traveling alone, and only relaxed when he was showered with stories of my fictional husband and his wide support network of friends, travel agents, and business contacts that were making my solo travel possible.  The truth is that this support network was in fact in place, but it was mine, along with the finances for the trip, which would be impossible and even dangerous to explain (more on that in the “Freedom of the Sex” post).

Being alone is simply not normal, nor desired.  You will be stared at, talked to, sat next to, and asked numerous questions.  Sitting alone on a rock on the bank of the Ganges in the small holy town of Rishikesh, I was approached by a group of young boys laughing and playing.  “Hello Madam, what your name?”

“Sitting quietly,” I answered, in desperate need of solitude, despite traveling to the town by myself with no contacts. 

The boys giggled, and repeated slowly, “Sitting quietly” three times in unison, grinning ear to ear.   They proceeded to go around and recite their own names two times in a row.  Five minutes later, defeated by the language barrier and my silence, they ran off to play, and within a few minutes were replaced by two women and a small child wanting “One photo.”

Eating alone in busy diners in large cities I’ve had whole families sit down next to me to share the meal.  With limited language, we discussed everyone’s favorite topic of “Which country,” because that is the second most important topic to “Are you lonely.”  I was graciously endowed with tips on the right thing to order in that restaurant, often ordering it on top of my poor tourist selection and expanding my belly and taste buds to new dimensions.

Walking with my Indian friend down the ancient streets of her city, she remarked wistfully how she never gets to come here unless she is “playing tourist.”  Shocked, I shared that I scope out hikes and walks in San Francisco regularly on my own. 

“If I come to the old city, I will likely meet someone I know, and they will ask me why I am here on my own,” she explained, implying that being alone is not a favorable state. 

Still, my extreme need to write, especially while traveling, has me seeking solitude, and when I arrived to the Mountain Ridge Bed and Breakfast just outside of Udaipur, I was looking forward to a few days of shanti (peace) from the beautiful, yet overwhelming humanity and urbanity of India and it's travelers.  Situated 7kms from the city, this property claims a defensible position in the hills, with city thrills or traffic around.  The main noises were birds, playing children children, and the sneeze of a passing by villager.  It was unbelievable haven that I could no longer imagine in my second month in India.  The place also specializes in guided hikes through the surrounding countryside.  Reserved in advance, the beauty of my grand tribal room with a modern European bathroom and a balcony overlooking the countryside had amazing potential, yet brief shanti practice. 

One of the hikers from the day adventures of Mountain Ridge really wanted to stay the evening, and arrived complete with all her belonging, hoping that one of the rooms in the home stay would be free.  Fortune did not smile upon her, so I had no choice.  We ended up sharing my long-awaited luxuriant piece of quiet bliss, and even now, as I write this, she is sitting next to me on the balcony, “reading.”  Life in New York was discussed in detail, problems with a Nepalese boyfriend in Goa revealed, the Russians-Israeli fights described, and the crazy NYC pace and flood of information overflowed the tribal room, spilled out on the balcony, and eventually had me writing in the gorgeous bathroom. 

In India, everyone eats, sleeps, shops, and yes, travels, in groups.   Everything is done as a family, from running a business venture, to simply running in the park.  Grown kids like to sleep in their parents’ bedroom when they come home for a break from their jobs in other cities, in those few rare cases that they get jobs in other cities. Young men of means purchase new family homes as opposed to single residences to make sure their parents, brothers, and unmarried sisters can all live together in a nicer places if the collective family means allow.  Besides a personal computer, often shared by the household, nothing personal is thought of or desired as freedom.  Of course, like everything, this is changing… but slowly.   

Traveling alone, the fruit of my corporate labors and stroke of good fortune I am experiencing the power of good dependable friends, family and network more than ever.  My family is vigilantly watching my mail and taking care of my loose ends, leaving me free to enjoy my time abroad.  My friends are there on call in moments where I need a sympathetic ear.  I am now really missing my indispensable and dependable travel partner (Oh Toni Tru!) with whom I had the fortune of sharing the pages of the lonely planet, moments of amazing beauty, discomfort of cancelled flights, the last of the toilet paper, travel wisdom and sanity for nearly a month.  The Indian friends of my friends back home, as well as the few I’ve been fortunate to meet along the way have taken me in as family, sharing their homes, their food, and their time in ways I did not expect to experience. 

In the ultimate exercise of western freedom (in my eyes), traveling solo in lands far away for an extended period of time, I am experiencing that comfort and pleasure come from a shared meal or experience, relating and enjoying common languages, interests and learning together with likeminded open people.  My ability to speak English, Russian and some Hebrew has been priceless as a gateway for human connection.  If freedom is desirable as a means to pleasure, then I am discovering that pleasure is fostered within the constraints of human interaction with kind, open, dependable people.        

Freedom to Walk

You’re walking downs the street. It could be somewhere in Berkeley, you’re on your cell phone texting or talking, or casually conversing with a friend.   You stop to admire someone’s beautifully manicured lawn, smell the roses, and continue on your merry way.  Walk fast, walk slow, anyways you want to go.     

Now, after a couple of planes, a train, perhaps a bus, and a few days of jetlag you’re walking down the street again, in a nice part of town.  Expect that it happens to be half way around the world India, where everything is different and the only thing that’s the same is you.  You are in Udaipur, but you could be in Mumbai, or Delhi.  Upon taking a few steps, you realize that somewhere, perhaps in mid-air, you’ve morphed into a walking wallet.  Every 5 meters there is someone there who wants you to “open”, drink their chai, and do a cross-cultural exchange in the form of cash-flow.  Everyone is also convinced that when you are not shopping, you are in dire need of a rickshaw, a tour guide, a massage, money exchange or some food.  There are places that will offer you all those things at once, as well as a room to sleep.  You stop to smell the fragrant flowers by the road.  “Madam, ten rupees!”     

So, you get out of the old/pretty/touristy part of town and make it like the locals.  In the big cities, during the rare times that they are present, sidewalks are a desert oasis amidst the hustle of the street.  In Mumbai, it’s the Indian version of the San Francisco Bay to Breakers all day everyday. You are generally walking in a huge mass of people, colors, and parked in the middle of it all, the occasional cow.  Avoiding the random construction or dug up pavement all together, you crawl along, shoulder to shoulder (or shoulder to elbow, if you happen to be tall).  In the likelihood that there are no sidewalks, and you are sharing the road with bicycles, cars, taxis, mopeds, motorcycles, busses and, of course, the occasional cow.  In the small cities, you’ll get less traffic but more animals, such as donkeys, pigs, monkeys, the ever present cows, and the occasional camel.  Let’s also not forget the incessant beeping all around and “good luck” pies on the ground.  Walking down the street becomes an exercise in maintaining a superior state of alert attention as one must be aware of traffic, vehicles, animals, excrement, people and great photo opportunities. 

Like to walk fast?  Want to get somewhere quickly?  It’s much easier to re-examine your definition of walking, and align it to engaged crawling.  Otherwise, arm yourself with a smile, raise your defenses, alert your senses and full steam ahead until you step into a street surprise left by the occasional cow and have to stop to wipe it off.