I step into my salmon pink room at Affittacamere alls Stazione where the smell of stale smoke lingers and am brought back to another time along the shore of the Adriatic Sea. Apparently, the only person in this little guest house tucked into the third floor 150 meters from the train station, I am thankful for the piercing sound of silence, only marred by the creaking of the wood floor as the owner herself likely prepares for sleep.
I felt alone in that train station at Milan. And I didn’t want to feel alone anymore. After a week with people I love, after years of a far more solitude life in Thailand, I felt free. Happy. Excited. Feeding off of the love of my friends. The support of the masses.
Leaving Israel, I feel hollow. Enclosed once again in only my mind. Do I want this for a week? This solo travel, which I was so longing for, suddenly feels like a burden. An exhausting dance for a week until my mom comes. It takes me back to my last trip when I felt I was simply filling time and that scares me to think I am once again going to do that.
But, I am OK alone.
Once I step outside of the company of others and can revert back to me and put everything in perspective, the panic and fear begin to subside. And by the time I walk onto the creaky, old floors of the Trieste guest house, having been shown the way by a dashing young Italian police man with adorable English, those fleeting insecurities, those questions in my mind, the need for others to fuel me, has all but disappeared. It’s time for me, once again.
This post is part of the D Travels Europe series. Stay up-to-date on all of my European adventures by following along on Twitter (#dtravelseurope), Instagram,Trover, G+ and Facebook. And, for a look at the health and wellness side of European travel, be sure to follow along at The Comfort Zone Project and on TCZP’s Facebook.