Ideally, people should explore the world while in their late teens and twenties. You have the freedom, the time, and the stamina to accomplish so much, and perhaps most importantly, you have the right frame of mind. I marvel at the adventures so many of my young friends and acquaintances are having before they settle into the responsibilities of mature adulthood. They tour and study in far-off countries, drinking in the life of foreign places. They do so with a naivete and idealism that only comes with youth.
For a variety of reasons, I never had the opportunity or the urge to travel alone until I reached my forties. I think it is safe to say that my mid-life crisis manifested itself as a supreme need to suddenly prove that I could do what everyone else seemed to have done 25 years younger. I didn't want to be an American tourist traveling from spot to spot with my family and staying in hotels and eating in restaurants. I wanted to go it alone and immerse myself into the daily lives of my foreign friends, enveloping myself in their languages and lifestyles.
It really is never too late, and at this moment I am in the midst of my solitary travels, taking advantage of the kindness of others and living with friends in various parts of Scandinavia. It is indeed a gratifying experience. I don't miss home at all. I know I'll be back soon, and I haven't been gone long enough to get homesick. I don't miss foods. The friend who feeds me right now is such a fine cook that I am ashamed to think that her son will soon be stuck with my feeble attempts at food preparation. I don't miss familiar places. The weather is perfect, and I am spending hours at the beach, getting tan and enjoying the therapeutic qualities of frigid salt water. I would be quite content to continue this way forever. But there is one thing I miss: the sense of belonging that comes with understanding conversation.
Unless people are forced to speak in English, something I absolutely don't want, I am totally excluded from every verbal and auditory experience that exists. Mind you, I don't miss talking. Any time I want to say something or converse with anyone, all I have to do is open my mouth and whoever is with me will graciously chat in English. But in all other circumstances, I am alone. I haven't a clue as to what is going on ever, and for a people-person like me, this is difficult.
This feeling of exclusion exists only in my own mind. No one intentionally leaves me out. In fact, I consider it the highest of compliments that my friends are so comfortable with me around that everything is normal, but occasionally I lapse into a pathetic case of self-pity, and I have to figuratively slap my face to snap out of it. I so badly want to understand the casual conversations surrounding me without having to ask for or require translations. I don't think it's paranoia, although I am definitely prone to that in ANY language! My friends love to tease me by periodically throwing my name into the middle of a conversation that has absolutely NOTHING to do with me. My startled look of uneasiness sets off well-deserved laughter, and oddly enough, I suddenly feel better because I know they are including me in their lives. I only wish that I could get them back, but while I speak no Danish, just about everyone around me speaks English, and anyways, I'm alone on this adventure, remember?