My Greying Relationship with Solo Travel

It has been nearly two months since I finished visiting every country in Central America. I had expected to feel some sort of profound elation as my flight touched down in Nicaragua, just as I imagined I would when I ticked off my seventh continent with a trip to Cape Town in 2021. But unlike the latter, visiting every nation in Central America left me burnt out, and more-so than ever I questioned my intentions as a solo/budget traveler. It is truly a privileged problem to have.

Nicaragua provided a number of “incidents” – you know, casual things – from nearly being pummeled over by a truck on the Pan-American highway, to tumbling off of a motorcycle on the way to a volcano, nearly breaking the lens on my Fujifilm camera on an Insta-famous beach, and being literally assaulted by a small child wielding projectile sand on yet another beach. Part of the reason I’ve prioritized travel in recent years has been due to the thought of mortality, yet when faced directly with my own mortality I soured to the allure of future trips. But of course these mishaps don’t fully describe my greying relationship with solo-travel.

*Post Sand-Attack Selfie*
Las Peñitas, Nicaragua

To open on a personal topic, as a gay man in the backpacker community I’ve grown increasingly bored. I don’t care what other travelers have to say about it, but there’s just not enough representation of the LGBTQ community within this type of travel. I’ve stayed in well over 100 hostels around the world, and the only city I’ve ever met a visible “scene” of gay hostel-goers was in Sydney, Australia (and it made a difference in my experience there). As for the rest of my wanderings … I really wish it had been easier to find other queer travelers to connect with. I have had some really fun dates with locals (thanks to the dreaded apps), but at the end of the day these weren’t the people who could drop everything and explore the world with me. It’s a tall order, but I’d still love to find that person somewhere.

Changing subjects, I am increasingly irked by social media’s commodification of travel. For better or for worse, social media has shaped the way I plan and execute trips. It is easier than ever to micromanage travel thanks to the fact that literally everyone out there behaves like an influencer. I pour through this sort of content until I’ve crafted my own unique itineraries that fit my interests. While ultimately beneficial for time management, this level of organization comes at a loss of the youthful, spontaneous, and naive type of travel that defined my first trips in Europe. There was something magical about showing up to a city like Prague or Madrid without the stress of an itinerary, allowing everything to unfold organically.

When I first started traveling it was only blogs and guidebooks, along with direct recommendations from other travelers that could influence me in my planning. The mere act of backpacking and staying in hostels in beautiful parts of the world felt like this really niche and cool thing – particularly being from the U.S., where no-one seemed to do this. And now? Well, places like South East Asia are over-popularized and over-run with largely early 20 something’s on Instagram/Tik Tok touting the same hot spots as one another – with the ultimate results being that nowhere is secretive, and that travel has become more about personal gain than personal growth (think social image and followers, rather than inner joy and fulfillment). I’m guilty of this too.

Speaking of personal growth, at nearly 31 years old I feel like I’ve learned most if not all of the things that budget travel was meant to teach me. Backpacking is all about roughing it with just a bag or two, figuring out exactly what it is that you can and cannot live without as you explore the world. This has reinforced my own minimalist tendencies, allowing me to return home feeling content in owning very little. Most of all backpacking has given me so much confidence: I can get from point A to point B in foreign lands where I don’t speak a word of the language – and walk foreign streets as if I know exactly what I’m up to. Plus, being able to dine alone practically anywhere without an inkling of self-consciousness is empowering.

Lately my personality has shifted from one that loved meeting new people to one that yearns for steady community. Within the world of stop-to-stop backpacking there is little such thing. During my travels through Nicaragua specifically I found myself withdrawing from opportunities to socialize with other backpackers. I’m not an anti-social person, and I felt like something was wrong with me there. Eventually though I realized that I just didn’t see the value in making more fast friends on a daily basis. The one exception in my recent travels was the Xela to Lake Atitlan 3-day hike in Guatemala – we had a wonderful community that lasted beyond the tour.

It would seem I need to focus more on community-minded travel. I’m eager for the day I embark on a long group trek in Nepal, or take part in a group wellness retreat in Costa Rica. I’m not against staying in hostels, but people are too “come and go” in that environment for me to find connection. I think there are parts of the world where I’d naturally encounter more mature, older travelers to connect with – such as south and central Asia. This is a hardy, raw part of the world where it would seem you need considerable experience and a tough mentality to get by. Countries like India and Pakistan excite me, and I know there’s others that feel the same.

As for where I’ll solo-travel next, I’m not sure. Since returning from Nicaragua I’ve been busy performing back in the states with the Hartford Symphony, and continuing my search for a full-time orchestra job. Later this month I’m heading out on my second US tour with the Emo Orchestra together with the band Escape the Fate. We’ll be hitting a different city every day as our tour buses take us from coast to coast. I didn’t blog about our tour last autumn, but this time I’ll make sure to share a bit of that here.