“I have stories to tell, not stuff to show. I want to collect experiences I can look back on, not things. I never buy anything when I travel and go as light as possible.”
Unakoti Tripura
Travel means different things to different people. It may mean backpacking off alone into the sunset. It could mean joining a tour with a bunch of strangers and making new friends, often for life. Or going with a select group of known, like-minded people on a well-crafted itinerary. In the latter two cases, the hassles associated with travel such as transportation, sightseeing, hotel bookings and meals are taken care of. All one does is pay the money and relax!
Though I enjoy all modes of travel, here I recount some experiences as a solo traveller. Solo travel has its peaks and troughs. The peaks comprise suddenly hitting on the unexpected and the exceptional, such as the megalithic burial site I came across while meandering across Sri Lanka. Or drinking in the utter stillness of Dhankar lake at 4100 metres in Spiti. Or seeing Unakoti emerge from the lush forests of Tripura. The troughs – read on!
A large part of the excitement of solo travel is in the planning. Most often, I don’t have a fixed agenda. I usually book a place to stay where I land initially, but leave it open thereafter. I prefer to stay in an Airbnb or homestay rather than a hotel, as one gets to know the people and customs, especially when travelling to another country.
Fun moment at Bishnupur teracotta temples.
This can have its downsides. For instance, on a trip to Spain, I booked a highly-rated Airbnb accommodation (superhost!) in Madrid. My young host picked me up from the bus stop and said he would be out of town for the total duration of my stay in Madrid. This should not have been a problem, except that his mother, who was the only other occupant, spoke only Spanish and I couldn’t understand a word. Happy to have someone to talk to, she talked non-stop, barely pausing to breathe. I was also horrified to see the tiny, windowless room that I was in, along with a shared toilet! But it was wonderful to wander along the vibrant streets of Madrid, packing in the sights and sounds, trying out the food, experiencing the wonderful museums, exploring quaint churches and even just sitting in the botanical garden full of exotic plants that I’d never seen before. As I didn’t have a fixed agenda, I went for a couple of days to Toledo and Segovia, feasting on all the marvellous paintings in Toledo cathedral, chatting with English-speaking locals, staying in an old bull-fighting stadium and eating heaps of tortillas! While this adventure went well, this is not a given.
Take, for instance, my trip to Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. Planning the trip took quite some time, and my adrenaline high started right then! I had a rough itinerary and air tickets for every country along with visas, and a place to stay at the first port of call. Siem Reap in Cambodia was a dream come true and I spent all the time I wanted at whichever temple took my fancy. On the last day, I decided to take it easy before my flight at 4 pm. The tuk-tuk driver who had been taking me around said that there was one very ‘exciting’ place that I had not seen. This was Phnom Kulen, a revered national park on a sacred mountain that was once known as Mahendraparvata, where King Jayavarman II had declared himself ‘chakravartin’ or king of kings. I was told that it was a ‘must see’. I reminded him that I had a flight to catch the next afternoon but he promised he would get me back on time. Tempted as always by adventure, I agreed.
Before daybreak the next morning, there he was on a rickety motorbike. I set off, wondering what I had let myself in for. We stopped for a frugal breakfast of stale buns at a village tea shop. On the shelves, I could see bottles of alcohol with dead snakes curled up in them. As we went along, the numbing poverty of the people hit me hard. What a contrast from Siem Reap, barely 50 kilometres away!
The motorcycle gave up on the steep mountain slope and we had to walk up the last few hundred metres. At the top was a large statue of a reclining Buddha carved into the rock, with a ‘Champa’ tree shading it. I was surprised to learn that the tree was known as Champa in the local language too. My guide then announced that we had to hike down ‘ a bit ’ to reach the river. As I went down the moss-covered, slippery mountain path, I realized that I was completely alone in the world with this unknown young man. No one knew where I was. I thought of my poor mother, who had so trustingly moved in with me in the hope that I would look after her! I thought of my bright and beautiful grandchild, I thought of my children. To say that I was terrified at that moment would be a huge understatement.
With no way out, I trudged on for about 45 minutes. Then suddenly I saw a small river. We had reached.
Carved on the shallow riverbed were innumerable stone Shivalingas, 1000 in all (sahastra linga). And a little upstream was a small statue of Vishnu resting on Sheshanaga with Lakshmi by his side. How amazing to see where India’s influence had spread! I rested, drinking in the jungle sounds, enjoying the shade of the huge trees growing undisturbed and felt a sense of utter peace. Finally, I started the arduous climb up, and made it to the airport by the skin of my teeth.
Phnom Kulen, Cambodia.
Vietnam was my next destination. My first experiences after landing in Danang were not good. The hotel staff spoke no English, the place was overrun with cockroaches, it didn’t have a restaurant and there was no drinking water! How could I know this when I booked it? I wondered what meat was in the burgers I had bought on the street. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
My Son Temple, Vitenam
My Son sanctuary is a UNESCO World Heritage site older than Angkor Wat, and a Hindu temple complex built from the 4th to the 13th centuries CE by the Hindu kings of Champa, not far from Danang. Their city, called Champapura, was once the centre of a flourishing kingdom of the Cham people. A local bus dropped me off nearby. I couldn’t believe my eyes. In a beautiful, forested area were clusters of red brick temples, around 70, I believe. I explored about 25. Most were in a terribly ruined condition, but some had beautiful carvings and a few deities in situ. Most were Shiva temples with a few Krishna and Vishnu temples. A large, graphic phallus (Shivalinga) about 4’ in height caused much amusement among the very few tourists there. I was told that the statues of the deities from the temples were on display at Danang museum. On the way to the museum, the taxi driver took me through the few remaining Cham villages. The people were distinctly different and wore different clothes and the typical triangular hat that we see in pictures. I totally forgot my fatigue when I came upon a huge pond full of the largest pink lotuses I have ever seen! The driver said that the Cham people use the lotuses for worship.
Another of the highlights of my trip to Vietnam was the visit to Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park, another UNESCO World Heritage site. After a smelly bus ride, a boat took me to a mountain that had a small opening at the water level. As we entered the tiny slit in the mountain, I was astounded to see a huge cave! It had its own forest inside. The roof was so far away that I felt a skyscraper could have fitted in! This place has a huge system of caves within the mountain to a total of about 104 km. The cave I was in was 44.5 km long, but we could explore only 1500 metres. We were given some time to wander around by ourselves. It was a surreal experience exploring the cave in the semi-darkness, with a few lights placed here and there. The thrill of seeing these places wore off somewhat when I fell into the clutches of a taxi driver who charged me more than 10 times what he should have, and the cyclone that erupted and lasted for all the three days that I was in Hanoi.
Some of my adventures, like the ones above, were intensely satisfying despite a few hiccups. But not all. There was the time when I visited the UK for the first time and, within an hour of arrival, my wallet was stolen. I was at the airport of an unknown country, alone and without any money at 1 am! How I managed is a story for another time. Or the time when I was going to the Valley of Flowers and on the way up from Hardwar got my right foot stuck deep in sticky mud and when I finally managed to pull my foot out, my right shoe and sock were gobbled up by the mud! I carried on (with help from some kind people) and did hike up to the Valley of Flowers and Hemkund Saheb.
At Bergen, Norway, a day after the fracture.
Perhaps my worst experience was a fracture of the right arm in the midst of the Norwegian countryside. There I was, with my arm bent unnaturally like a dinner fork, in acute pain with no help. A kind farmer drove me 70 km to the nearest village hospital staffed with four young women who had graduated 10 months ago and had no idea what to do. Without boring you with the details of how impossible it is to get care in a First-world country, I wandered around Norway and Sweden for 10 more days with a broken arm in a sling, not wanting to cut short my holiday. When I finally got to India, the bone was well on its way to malunion. The kind doctor asked me to grit my teeth and bear the pain of breaking the uniting bone (he didn’t want to anaesthetize me) while he and three young men pulled the arm in opposite directions and the doctor pushed the malaligned bone in place with a dreadful sound! I have a crooked right hand as a legacy. However, it works!
At what age did you begin Solo Travelling and what inspired you to go on that first journey? I started solo travel at the age of 58. I had always loved to travel and with my Dad in the forces (as a scientist), we moved every couple of years. So I was born with wanderlust. But marriage snuffed that desire out of me. After a divorce, I suddenly felt wonderfully free and one fine day I borrowed some money and set off for Italy and Greece!
How safe is it to travel Solo as a Woman?
I have not experienced any problems as a woman. Rather the contrary, most people are happy to chat with you and invite you home to have tea or a meal, especially in India. The only time I faced what could have been a problem was in Naples. Unknowingly, I had booked a hotel in a red-light area and had lots of people proposition me when I sat out on the balcony of my room after my day's wanderings! Some experiences are funny, such as a drunk propositioning me in Aberdeen, and two little old ladies there wanting to feel my hair and skin!
Travelling solo is like heady wine; one wants more and more! It is an addiction. There is so much to experience when going solo! I urge all of you to move beyond your comfort zone and try it at least once. You will find it both liberating and life-changing.
This article has been beautifully written and narrated by Silver Surfer and Solo Traveller Bandana who has been an active member of The Silver Surfers Club along with our various sub-clubs like the Writers Club, The Singing Club, and of course our Travel Club. to name a few!
If you’d like to join The Silver Surfers Club – a growing community of active seniors or The Silver Surfers Travel Club - a fun, like-minded and vibrant community of Silver Travellers, write in to us on info@silversurfersclub.in or call us on +91 9900911443
