I'm sitting on a train in France looking out the window mesmerized by the idea of nobody knowing my name. I'm infactuated by the idea of being anonymous. Since I was 18 and left home for the first time I relish being alone. Being a nobody. There's just something about the way the sun hits your face in the late afternoon as it rests against the dirty train window. As I look out to the beautiful countryside I think back to the last time I was in Europe. How things have changed…
Loneliness can be scary for some people, I guess those who don't understand the beauty in only ever having yourself as your companion, and here I am again, relishing in the exquisite pain of being alone where people don't care about what clothes you have hanging in your wardrobe or who's party you went to on the weekend. Travellers don't care if you have a smart phone or how many followers on Instagram you have. These people don't care about how much money is in your bank account. The beauty about travelling is that you don't have to pretend to be anybody else, because travellers just like you for who you are. Travellers have nothing to prove.
And I don't mean buying a ticket, getting transfers to and from your hotel and sitting on a beach for a week. I mean travelling. Buying bus tickets, learning the language, going to the dive bar and meeting the locals. That's travelling. I don't mean the holidayers that sit by the pool and order the hotel room service. I mean, trying new food and walking the streets with a map and probably loosing your way. Dancing in the streets to local buskers and buying the food from street carts.
I could sit on this train forever and never get off, it would be a tempting proposition. I could spend my days getting lost in the streets of new cities.
When I travel alone I always notice the other travellers by themselves and always wonder where they have come from, where they are going, I wonder what their names are.