But, for a solo traveller, it's often followed by, 'You travel alone?'
I enjoy travelling alone. I meet great people that way, and find myself in unexpected and wonderful places. (Ok, sometimes I make mistakes, but that's not a direct consequence of being on my own.) I'm very happy to talk about the excitements and struggles of travelling alone, and to contribute an anecdote or two to any travelling chatter.
Yet what this question really means is, 'Why do you travel alone?'; which, in turn, means, 'Why don't you have a friend or partner who wants to travel with you?'
I make no secret of being widowed. It's no mystery. It's not shameful. It's not what I would have chosen, of course, but it's the card I was dealt. I deal with it.
Generally I manage a brief resumé that reassures my new companion - I am not alone because I am a witch, nor because I smell. I have a patter that moves our conversation on to travel topics, where we've been or long to go, and unexpected joys we've found along the way.
But sometimes I don't feel so charitable. While my mouth prepares the usual spiel, my head is saying, 'Mind your own business. I travel alone - you got a problem with that?' Which is, of course, unkind and unnecessary and would prove I am the witch they think I might be. Travellers ask personal questions very quickly - we know we have a limited time, and conversations are precious, not to be wasted on talk of the weather (unless you're stranded in Somerset, that is). I just wish they could come up with something more original, or less intrusive.
All this is not very generous of me - and, were I ever to have said what I was thinking I'd have missed out on some of the most wonderful people. I just wish there were a different preamble that meant I didn't have to justify travelling alone before we can get down to the serious business of buying a beer.
(Where are my photos - I'll get them on the blog for Monday).
(Where are my photos - I'll get them on the blog for Monday).
