Deepening Our Sense of Humanity Through the Ordinary Moments - Traveling Solo

There is something special about being alone. The way in which you absorb information about your surroundings is something you don't experience when you are with others. If you are familiar with solo travel, you might have had this experience, or perhaps you've felt it while engaging in a solo activity; it is something that I don't think we discuss enough. When you’re alone, you become a bystander to other people's lives and the environment around you, your place in the world can become almost purely observatory. Over time, I have learned to enjoy this vantage point thoroughly. It has helped me realize, that for some people, this is also the lens through which they see the world in non-solo settings, perhaps people who prefer not to engage much in group settings, the quieter people.

It's difficult to describe the feeling that solo travel gives me, but I often feel it most strongly when I am surrounded by other people, and typically, in the most ordinary moments. I imagine that the way that it onsets for people is probably a highly individualized experience. The way I like to think of it is that I often get probed with this sense of humanity when people around me are doing the most ordinary things.

Oftentimes while I travel solo, I am brought to tears at random moments and in random locations, and usually, it has something to do with who I am surrounded by. My most recent experience with this was in Buenos Aires, in an asado restaurant. When I walked in, I ordered my food, took a ticket, and then went to the back counter to exchange my ticket for the choripan I ordered  (a sausage sandwich). When I went to pick up my choripan, I was fascinated by the grill station and the beauty of the place in general. It was a big, stone oven combined with an open firepit, and the chef was cooking the meat there. As I walked up to the grill, he could see my fascination and asked me if I wanted to take a photo. Then, he asked me to come behind the counter and gave me a knife to pretend I was cooking with him. It was an adorable, and beautiful way to be welcomed into the restaurant.

However, this wasn't the moment I experienced this overwhelming feeling, I experienced this in the quiet. Once I sat down, the two musicians started playing, it was traditional Argentinian music with a guitar and harmonica. I began eating, and while I was observing the room, I noticed that above me hung flags from various countries, and there was a slight breeze moving them, making them look almost cinematic. This moment started to make me think about the general state of the world, why is it that all of our flags can sit so peacefully next to each other, but those flags can also cause us to inflict so much harm on one another?

Then, I began observing the people eating, a combination of tourists and locals. I watched the woman and her partner laughing and talking to their dog, the family with food and beers sprawled across the table, filming the two musicians. Then, the asado chef caught my attention again, and for some reason, that’s when it hit me, I experienced this overwhelming feeling of what it meant to be human, to cook food, to exist in this world among other people. How beautiful is it to enjoy space with people from all around the world, as these flags hang above us. Flags, which represent country borders, cultures, and even some religions, flags that can also often symbolize deep-rooted pain and conflict. However, when you gather in a room with people from around the world, you start to understand that, in the end, we are not so different from one another after all.

As I was observing the cook, thinking about all of this, I watched a tourist come to the counter, a man, who seemingly didn’t speak Spanish. The tourist asked him how to order food, and the chef worked up the words in English, with enthusiasm, trying to explain that he must get a ticket at the counter and then pick up his food from the asado once he had his ticket. The tourist looked confused, maybe even slightly frustrated, and walked away. Once the chef was alone, I continued to observe him, I noticed this expression on his face, and I saw the effort it took him to speak, to get the words out in English, and all of a sudden, I felt it through my whole body, and tears came to my eyes. I felt a feeling that was hard to describe, perhaps it was frustration because I know it's hard to express yourself in a language that's not natively yours, and how it can make you feel less than because the words don't come out quickly enough. Maybe I felt some sadness because we were visitors to his country, and he shouldn't have to feel ashamed to speak English just because tourists demanded it. However, I also felt connected, because I am learning Spanish and often feel frustrated or misunderstood when I try to speak and receive feedback like that from someone. This entire experience, from the moment I walked into the restaurant, made me realize how connected we all are, through basic human emotion, even if our experiences vastly differ.

While we may speak different languages, and were raised in different countries, there is a common, shared, human experience, an experience that can be seen oftentimes in the quieter, more ordinary moments.