[FW]: Travelling Alone
Now I haven’t done much research on how safe it is for a woman to travel alone — I’m arbitrarily guessing that maybe it’s not that safe — but man, is it a huge fantasy of mine.
The closest to travelling solo that I’ve experienced . . . Oh yeah, there was that flight to New York that one time.
And though it was only a flight, I’m not going to lie, it was quite exhilarating. Waiting at the gate by myself, looking mysterious (maybe creepy at times), watching whatever I wanted during the 5-hour flight, talking to strangers — it made me feel like a vagabond.
It would probably be safest to travel domestically, and not abroad — as I can speak the language and have a general idea of how to deal with obnoxious Americans. Buuuut . . . I don’t want to. My ultimate fantasy would be to visit, I duno, almost anywhere abroad, alone.
Maybe it’s the freedom — I can plan exactly what I want to do, no compromises.
I’ve always wanted to go to Spain. So let’s start there . . .
I could go from Bilbao, Spain to visit the Guggenheim (and most likely spend the whole day there), take a day trip to the nearby San Sebastián to take a dip in the Bay of Biscay; and then travel southeast. Why? Well, to hit Barcelona, of course. I’d spend a lot of time in the Dalí Museum, I’m sure, and possibly take in a fútbol game or two. From there, let’s just keep on going south. Why not, you know? There’s Madrid, Toledo, La Mancha (to finally see those tilting windmills). And then finally, Andalucía — where the Middle Eastern influence reigns. I’d love to visit and take in the overwhelming history of Córdoba, the very old sea city appeal of Málaga, and lastly, walk the hallways of the dreamy-looking Casa Alhambra in Granada.
And from there? Well, Andalucía is the gateway to Africa. Why not cross the Strait of Gibraltar right into Morocco? Actually, yeah, why not? I am in autonomous rule, after all.