For this week’s article, we asked our friend, Mary Anne Perkowski, if she would share her story on how a recent health scare put her solo-travel confidence to the test.
My parent’s subscription to National Geographic prompted an “I want to go there” mentality early in my life. Growing up, I crafted opportunities to travel via education, and later with my career as an architect of airports. In retirement, I volunteer internationally and travel with friends.
As I aged, I began to feel that life was getting shorter and the world wasn’t getting smaller. I began to think about whether I could embrace Mark Twain’s “throw off the bowlines, and sail away from the safe harbor” on my own. Could my fear of missing certain ports overcome my fear of embarking on solo adventures?
My worries included eating alone. Traveling at night. Getting sick. My friends who didn’t think I was crazy to travel alone encouraged me, telling me that being a confident extrovert would serve me well. But it was really my life that canceled my fears. I refused to miss out on following my wishes and whims.
Feeling competent, which promoted keeping my fears in check, I commenced an 11-week excursion through Europe, Eastern Europe, and the South Caucasus with an “I’ve got this” attitude. I had spent almost a year in Italy alone in my 20’s completing my thesis, and while I was now older, I was certainly wiser and far more resourceful (and prepared) than I had been then. I think that it was only my age that had me a bit concerned. That others would see me as more vulnerable. I proved them wrong.
Weeks into my solo trip, I fell sick. In Tbilisi, Georgia, where I did not speak a word of Georgian, a double whammy of COVID and diarrhea hit me. Because of the diarrhea, I knew I could not get myself to a hospital on my own. I had to be really firm with the insurance people. I said, “I can’t do this by myself; someone will need to come get me.”
Lying in my hotel room, I did not regret my decision to be a voyager in this strange land. I did not berate myself for traveling solo. Instead, a new form of “I’ve got this,” showed up. I told myself, “You’re in trouble, and you are going to ask for help.”
EMTs arrived to whisk me away to the public hospital. Upon arrival, I handed my passport to a stern-faced attendant in the emergency room. Once I had IV fluids going, I did have a “whew” moment and became an interested observer. I knew I would get the proper treatment, and that I would recover and be OK. The hospital experience became a show of watching how other patients were treated. For me, I had to ask for what I needed, a blanket when I was cold, to be “unhooked” to go to the bathroom, and a cup of water. Another example of having to take control.
When they discharged me, they left me at the door to make my way back to the hotel by myself at 2:00 a.m. I had no Georgian money and needed a taxi. A random act of kindness from a young English-speaking aid provided the means to get me back to my hotel. It was the one compassionate moment that evening. I remember the night ride through the city, warmed by the experience of a stranger’s hospitality, and knowing I would be okay.
Upon my return to my home town, friends asked about my trip. When I relayed various stories, including the medical emergency, a few asked if it made me rethink my decision to travel alone. My response was along the lines of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger (and knowing my insurance works in an emergency). The real answer: feeling a bit invincible, and totally emboldened, I’m leaving for Australia for seven weeks in September – again, on my own.
Being sick in Georgia confirmed what I knew. I travel for the sights, the flavors, the people I can learn from. And for the treasures that fall into my path, the ones that teach me about dynamic cultures and surroundings.
I don’t travel to be challenged by people or situations. I’ve had enough of that in my professional life. I know that my age advantages me, and that is reassuring; I believe people are more likely to offer assistance. In San Francisco recently I was offered a seat on the light rail, and I was happy to take it.
If I were traveling with a small group of volunteers, or with friends by my side, I would have comradery, safety in numbers, and the chance to sample more mealtime treats. Yet traveling with others presents challenges—consensus building on destination, accommodation, attractions.
I feel empowered as I know I can take care of myself and that my age is in a strange way an advantage. My goal is simple - satisfy my own curiosity, and don’t skip out on the whims and wishes.