“You are here all alone?” the young man staffing the funicular ticket booth asked me.
When I nodded, he made a face that all Europeans know how to make from birth: sadly pursed lips, head tilted a smidge to the side, eyes slightly lidded and looking askance at me.
“It is sad to travel alone. It is best to have someone to share the experience with. And Heidelberg, alone …” He slid me my ticket and winked. “Next time you are here, come find me. I will take you out and show you the town.”
I glowed as I traipsed up the steps, reveling at how nice Germans were and how lovely the boys could be, and wasn’t it grand to be a fabulous young thing on a trip?
As I settled myself into the funicular caboose, my thoughts turned from meeting up with the nice young man (which I might have done, had I not been leaving the town that afternoon) to the subject of traveling alone. Before I’d left for my trip, friends had exclaimed: (1) “Won’t you be afraid to travel alone?” or (2) “Won’t you be awfully lonely?”
To which I always responded (1) no and (2) definitely no.
I’ve hardly ever felt lonely while traveling alone. I revel in the freedom of waking when I want, seeing the sights I want, getting lost and backtracking again and again whenever I want. To stand and gaze at a shop window for five minutes at a time, or flurry through the passageways of celebrated art museums and stopping at what I want to see, without having to acquiesce to group tastes.
No, the only times I’m lonely when traveling by myself are mealtimes.
Not so much during lunch – lunches are hasty meals by nature. I often find myself skipping lunches altogether while traveling. It’s easy to grab a sandwich or an ice cream if hunger bites too deeply, and I can see and accomplish so much more when I don’t have to stop for an hour or two in the afternoon.
Dinner, however, is a different ballgame. Evening meals are intrinsically social events, great family repasts where all gather around the table to celebrate after a long, hard day and savor the evening, gastronomically and communally.
Let’s face it: if you’re eating dinner alone, the societal expectations of camaraderie and companionship make you feel like a pariah.
When you happen to be in a city like Heidelberg – which is considered the heart of romantic Germany – it’s slightly unnerving to sit alone at a table while you’re flanked by duos with love-glazed eyes. Adrift in the sea of quiet murmurs and clasped hands, one feels oddly like the left-out animal in Noah’s Ark.
There’s no way around it: one has to eat when traveling. Although the temptation is great to just grab a kabob or duck into a tabac, being alone is no reason to miss out on the culinary delights you will (and should) encounter when traveling. When you’re in a foreign city – or even in your hometown – you have every right to throw your shoulders back, waltz into your intended restaurant, and enjoy your meal with such delight that all around you feel lessened for having to share their dining experience with someone else.
Much easier said than done. I know. I’ve been there. But I’ve found a few things that are sure-fire ways to lessen the discomfort of a single place setting, and can make your dining experience quite enjoyable.
1. Don’t be insecure.
Your fellow diners are selfish, introspective creatures. Although you may feel glaringly out-of-place, rest assured that everyone around you is completely absorbed in their own meals, their own conversations, their own personal dramas. In fact, you have the upper hand – you’re able to watch them to your heart’s content, without any distractions!
2. People-watch.
Dining alone affords the best possible opportunities to people-watch. If available, take a terrace seat so you can gaze at passers-by. Make up stories about fellow diners and pedestrians, or keep an internal commentary on mannerisms, dress, and the like.
3. Bring a book.
I become engrossed in books to the point that I don’t even realize that I’m eating. Hence, I don’t usually bring books with me when I’m dining alone at a restaurant, unless I’m planning on spending the entire evening on the terrace, drinking coffee and taking up space. However, a book passes dead time quickly, so if you don’t get sucked in as easily as me, bring one.
4. Take notes.
If you’re keeping a travel notebook, bring it with you to dinner and scribble while you’re waiting for your food. For bonus points, put your guidebook on the table and flip through it from time to time while you’re writing. I truly believe that servers thought I was working for Fodor’s, because as soon as the guidebook and notebook came out, bam! Service went from pretty darn good to stellar in no time flat.
5. Find a friend.
Sometimes, all you have to do is ask. While in Heidelberg, I was fortunate enough to take a table next to two American soldiers. Happy to speak a language I knew, I struck up a conversation with them. Five hours later, we were still living it up. This is a specialized tactic that only works well if you’re in a pub or near someone speaking your language – but certainly enlivens your evening.
6. Start planning the next day’s itinerary.
This is one of my favorite tactics, mainly because it kills two birds with one stone. You keep yourself busy while getting the “what should I do tomorrow?” question out of the way … leaving you free to enjoy your food, get a good night’s sleep, and start the next day without any dilly-dallying.
After a few meals by myself, I learned to relax and not rely so much on my tactics. After all, no one around you really cares if you’re eating by yourself. You’re a tourist. It is more than acceptable to be a little bit crazy, because – let’s face it – you’re never going to see these people again.
So, live it up. Throw those shoulders back. Enjoy your meal with all the gusto you can muster. Show everyone around you that you are a single traveler, gosh darn it, and you are proud to eat by yourself. Bon appetit!
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