Without Reservations_ The Travels of an Independent Woman - Alice Steinbach [109]
But there are also places where a woman alone can feel comfortable for lunch or dinner. Museums frequently have cafés or full-service restaurants; many are open at night. One of the most important decisions for me when planning a trip is to pick my hotel carefully. I try to find one located in a lively, friendly neighborhood, one that has cafés and food markets, sandwich shops and small family-run restaurants. I’m willing to spend a little more on such a hotel; it can make all the difference in the world to a solo traveler to feel at home in the neighborhood. In Paris, for instance, there are several small hotels on the Left Bank near St. Germain-des-Prés that have become my home-away-from-home.
What’s the best thing about traveling alone?
One of the best things is that it’s easier to meet people. Part of that has to do with the need to reach out more when you’re a solo traveler; otherwise, you’ll be spending most of your time alone. And part of it has to do with the willingness of locals and those not traveling alone to reach out to you. Sometimes they’ll reach out because they’re interested in what you’re doing alone in some small hill town in Italy, and sometimes it’s out of pity. Also, people traveling as couples or in groups sometimes get bored with one another and like to meet outsiders who bring a breath of fresh air to their travels.
Can you really form friendships on the road? In your chapter “The Sloane Street Club,” you manage to meet three Englishwomen who become your “gang” in London. Tell us about that.
Well, it happened at lunch one day. I knew from previous visits to London that a wonderful shop on Sloane Street—the General Trading Company—had a small lunchroom in its basement. I’d eaten there and the food was quite good. But the thing that drew me there was I knew that they often placed singles—who were agreeable—at a table together. It was there that I met an Englishwoman down from Scotland to visit her daughter. We really clicked, and through her I met two other women, one from London, the other from Kent. Over the course of my month in London we did many things together and, I believe, formed a bond. Now, I don’t know if this could happen if one were in a city for two days or a week, but on the other hand, anyone who’s traveled—particularly alone—knows that friendships formed on the road can be quite intense. Whether they last beyond the trip is another matter.
Did any of the friendships you write about in Without Reservations continue upon your return?
During the year after my return, I kept in touch with a half-dozen of the women mentioned in the book. Gradually, though, except for one or two of them—Angela in London and Jean in Australia, for example—the friendships dwindled down to relationships consisting of the occasional postcard or Christmas message. Of course, the question most asked of me is: Do you still see Naohiro? And the answer is: Happily, I do. We have met several times in Paris—where his work often takes him—as well as London and Venice. And in doing some research in Kyoto for my next book, the two of us spent some time together.
Were there any moments when you wished you weren’t a woman traveling alone?
Yes, a few. But I’m not sure a man traveling alone for a long period of time wouldn’t feel the same way. It’s part of the human condition to want companionship and security in situations that are uncertain. Still, I write in the book about having dinner in Siena, Italy, with three other women—a wonderful, lively dinner, in my opinion. Afterward, one of the women looked longingly at the next table where a young man and woman sat, holding hands and whispering intimately, oblivious of anything but each other. “Tell me the truth,” she asked me. “Wouldn’t you give