14 days and hundred thousands of steps later, I’m back from a journey of self-discovery ten thousand kilometres away in the UK. Being alone in a foreign land is nothing new to me, having spent months in the US on my own travels. I’ve always found being in solitude overseas therapeutic, almost akin to meditation, because I’ve my personal space and time for my own thoughts. After each of these solo trips, I grow to learn a little more about myself.

People often ask the question what kind of traveller – lone wolf or wolf pack? I guess I’m a little of both. Besides having the time to reflect, going solo also offers a lot of flexibility, to go with my own plans and detouring whenever I want to. Also, I’ve got to be self-dependent as there’s no one else to rely on. Seclusion however, leads to isolation. How ironic but it does get lonely sometimes when I’m dining alone and thinking to myself how nice it’d be to have some company.

Travelling together with companions is of course twice, thrice or even quadruple the fun. But there are also more complications and sources of unhappiness. And frankly, I don’t have many friends to begin with in the first place, let alone those who can be counted on as travel companions. It’s hard to find friends who can qualify as travelling mates mainly due to the fact that there are not many who I can spend time continuously for days in a foreign land with endless things to talk about.

Alas, it depends on the purpose of the trip. If I wanted very much to go on a vacation and am unable to get my buddies to come along, I’d not hesitate to pack my bags and take off by myself. Like this trip which is a much-needed break from work. Moreover, I wanted some alone time to do some soul-searching, reflecting, and get my life back on track. It feels surreal but two weeks have just gone by in a flash. I’m refreshed and ready to start again and until it’s time for the next trip, this holiday is over.