solo travel

You've got somewhere to go, but no one to go with; solo travel is the nexus of independence and opportunity.

The Little Black Book
“Melvin take out the trash!” a sigh escaped my lips as I rose from the dishwashing area. I removed my gloves, and another bag of trash came flying through the diner door. Tonight was a little colder than usual but not unusual for a late fall in Vegas. I left my Jacket behind as I walked out the door.
By Jaron Bowens5 years ago in Wander
Lost Travel Log
The economy starts to diminish, and millions of people across the country lose their jobs and have nowhere else to go. Businesses close their doors for the first time in decades. A man in his early thirties named Ryan loses his comfortable computer job of ten years. There is nowhere for him to go as his industry crumbles. Ryan struggles for weeks to get back on his feet, but even with unemployment, the eviction notices pile up, and he's forced to leave his dream apartment in San Francisco and live in his car with nowhere else to go.
By Andrew James5 years ago in Wander
The Trip
Even though the tropical water is warm, the waves being churned up from the ocean bottom feel cold as they thrash against us. My hands hurt from clutching the sides of the little long-tail boat and I’m clenching my teeth to avoid biting my tongue as we skate up giant waves and then get slammed down as we crest them. The boat driver is a sinewy tattooed statue, he stands rooted, motionless among all the chaos, steering the udder, all his concentration focussed on getting us to the island without getting sunk.
By LittleWing5 years ago in Wander
Priceless
Closing the trunk on her groceries, Margie turned to open the driver’s side door and thought she saw garbage thrown on her seat. The day was sweltering, and she'd left the window opened an inch to circulate air. Gingerly picking up the manilla envelop, she looked under and around it to make sure something sticky—or worse—was not hiding where she was about to sit. She climbed inside and closed the door. The sharp blow from the vents was hot, forcing her to roll down the window. No one seemed to be looking in her direction so Margie pinched the two small metal prongs together and peered inside the envelop at a red silk scarf, cash, and a notebook. Looking around the parking lot, she was certain there was some error. No one could mistake her old car for a drug dealer’s. Had the envelop dropped accidentally, gliding down through the open slot of her window? She rolled her window up, afraid someone was watching. With her hands under the dashboard, Margie pulled out the little, black, soft-covered notebook. Pushing back the flat elastic band, she opened to the first page where it read, “In case of loss, __.” No one had filled it in. Several pages presented instructions in neat handwriting.
By Linda S.5 years ago in Wander
5 secret places that you need to know about now! A guide for introverts considering migration in 2021, now with bonus fun facts!
Has lockdown got you feeling like you might need some more space? Who could blame you, especially if you are in the 50% of the population that inhabit only 1% of the world’s surface? That’s approximately 3.9 billion people all squeezed together, no wonder you need your own room.
By meredith bennett5 years ago in Wander
Pros and Cons of Solo Travelling
We all probably as children wished we traveled alone, or perhaps you are still wishing so. I sure did once, but after doing it for the first time, and being forced to do it a few times after, I found myself wishing to travel accompanied again.
By Chelsea Martínez5 years ago in Wander
Well-Built Fire
*** She wakes with a start, temporarily forgetting where she is. Bright white lights, cold white tile, a toilet nearby, and a sterile feel. Bags strewn about, a wooden chest painted with a stormy ship scene, and a luggage cart-- ah yes, she remembers now. She is at the London airport, hour 20 of a 30 hour layover. Her body aches in testament to this assessment.
By Anzh Ondrisek5 years ago in Wander
On The Road- Journal Part 1 (#TeamTera,Sapper&Jemma)
My dear friend, My name is Tera. This year, I celebrate my 50th birthday. Recently, I've gone through many periods of depression, midlife crisis's and inventories of my life. Nothing made me feel complete. There was an emptiness and marked sadness I constantly carried around with me. These feelings were associated with realizing I have never done anything to, "Make a Difference or have Purpose." A toll on my heart that is hard to bare.
By Tera Le Febvre5 years ago in Wander
Stranger and Stranger
I handed my passport to the TSA agent and waited as he looked between it and me, raising his brow. The little booklet had one stamp from a trip to Canada when I was 16.
By Paisley Dianastasis5 years ago in Wander
For Iceland and other Dreams
There was absolutely nothing remarkable about the small, battered black book that lay in his lap. The spine was coming apart at the edges, frayed binding and torn chips of leather telling a story of a life of use. The cover -mottled with patches of alternating rough and smooth leather worn down by years of handling, was a patchwork of history written in friction. He hadn't dared open it yet, his hands still locked around the frail, bony hand dangling off the edge of the pristine hospital bed. Like the book, the hand was worn and weathered, translucent skin clinging loosely to what remained of the once strong bones beneath. Finn could barely feel a pulse, a movement - any indication that his grandfather was more than a lifeless husk. Each ragged wheeze preceded an agonising silence, a pause that opened a gaping chasm in Finn's stomach until another whisper of air escaped those dry and pallid lips. A strained rhythm stretched across the dying hours of sunlight, hypnotic and exhausting, until the sun dipped below the faintly glowing clouds and the rhythm ended.
By Matt Greenwood5 years ago in Wander
Adventures with Helen
Pulling into the parking spot that likely did not exist a few years earlier, Hope fought the tears threatening to spill over for a place she never visited. This gas station was not supposed to be here; it should be a cute little restaurant celebrating its 150th birthday.
By Eryn Milliken5 years ago in Wander
The Gateway To The Great Smoky Mountains
Hometown is more than a word, it is more than a place. It is a feeling. A feeling that brings peace and comfort. While I was not born in Maryville, I do call it my home town. This town in rich with history, culture, and in recent years a fantastic artistic movement.
By Ariana Micheal5 years ago in Wander