How Travel Split My Personality
I landed in New York City after my first year of solo travel. It was a direct flight from Nicaragua's tropical airport to the Brooklyn subway. I was overwhelmed. I stepped onto the wrong train, realized it, and said to myself outloud, “I love you, girl.” Talking to myself isn’t new. But the content of the talk changed while I was alone in Latin America. Getting mad at myself didn’t change me. Worst-case scenarios did not chill me out. Tactics for handling discomfort on my own—partying, evading, dating —had diminishing returns. One day in the midst of resenting a Tinder match, I admitted to myself that I just needed a friend. So I became that friend. I stopped telling myself I wasn’t as good at traveling as people I met and instead said I was crushing it. I gave myself pep talks, hugs (literally wrapping my arms around myself while looking in the mirror), and permission to leave wherever I was (bar, town, country) whenever I wanted. The ...
