When people learn that I love traveling solo, I usually get the questions, “Isn’t it lonely? Don’t you have any friends?”
Solo travel isn’t as lonely or as daunting as it may seem. It helped me transform from someone who vicariously experiences adventures through fiction to someone actually living them out.
Here’s my story.
Every now and then your luck turns against you and you meet a rotten apple. This is one such story.
In the quiet neighborhood of Setagaya, the lucky cats of Gōtokuji beckon curious passers-by, perhaps saving weary soul or two.
Solo travel isn’t as lonely or as daunting as it may seem. It helped me transform from someone who vicariously experiences adventures through fiction to someone actually living them out.
Sadness was, after all, a familiar friend, one that you no longer shut the door to as you grow older; one that you invite in, chat with, and say goodbye to knowing that you’ll see each other again.
How quick we are to mistake propaganda for ideology just so we can fill that consumeristic void with the closest thing we can find to some purpose in living.
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