on a solo trip in New Orleans
Reader, it is 72F.
I am on the expansive patio at my youth hostel.
Every last wood surface has chipped paint.
There is a riot of potted plants everywhere, some creeping with moss.
Behind me is an outdoor stage, fitted with a piano, two church benches, and guitars.
Under the bright yellow exterior's awning, mismatched ceiling fans are going. Some of the other travelers have made their own breakfast in the communal kitchen and enjoying it outdoors.
I almost didn’t come.
The thought of planning a solo trip after a hectic past few months felt the furthest thing from relaxing. I wished I had a cool, $1K in my bank account to spend, instead of traveling on a budget.
But as I’m sitting here, breathing in the humid air, drinking the free coffee which tastes exactly how you imagine free coffee in a youth hostel might taste, I know I made the correct choice.
My only solid plans for the day are to find a deli and eat a muffuletta sandwich. I can’t remember the last time my day wasn’t a checklist of “Must dos, and must-sees.”
While I don’t have money for fancy tours and 5-star restaurants, I finally settled on just being. It’s warm enough to walk everywhere or take the street car.
I’m realizing I want to fill my eyes with things, instead of my suitcase. I’m possibly going for a swim and then reading before heading to the french quarter. I imagine having to share this trip with another, and wondering if they would feel immensely bored or antsy. I’m still a people pleaser, which is why I prefer to travel alone.
I love that I have felt the urge to slow down here.
Do you know what’s strange?
Seeing Christmas decorations and palm trees together.
Walking to a dive bar, wearing shorts and a tank top, I stopped to take pictures of houses. There was a feeling of being stuck in time.
Did they leave things up so long from the last holiday that summer had come at last? It felt almost apocalyptic, looking at weather-beaten wreaths and lights while sweating profusely from the humidity.
The sidewalks are still mostly damaged from the flood. Giant, swollen swells of land pushing up the slabs into sharp angles. I walked slowly and I let myself notice. Let myself quiet the voice of, “How to have a vacation.”
There is a couple brushing their teeth outdoors and I keep thinking of the surprise I heard as I told people I would be traveling solo. It’s not that I’m so fiercely independent that I refuse to travel with others. No, it’s quite the opposite. In true Sagittarius fashion, I don’t believe that anyone would want the version of me that is so relaxed and vulnerable when I travel. We really are the big babies of the zodiac.
Reader,
I have not felt like myself.
I don’t know if it’s the cold weather in Chicago or the early darkness, but I haven’t felt a deep sense of me and joy lately.
I imagined myself traversing the streets the first night, staying out until the wee hours of the morning, and letting my ears ring with music. Instead, I called it an early night, preferring to sleep in for once. I think my body needed that.
