Is travelling on your own the way to go, or a route to an unhappy journey?
I was pondering this question while talking to myself. It was a rainy night in Oslo, Norway's capital, and I was getting very wet indeed. I was entering my third hour of pacing soggy streets, many lined with fine restaurants, bars and cafes, and could not find a single one that I fancied sitting in, on my own, and having a lonely meal. I was in town on my own, during a long-dreamed-of solo trip around Europe, and I was finding that the road less travelled had its disadvantages.
Anyone who's been on a solo trip, for business or pleasure, knows that finding somewhere to eat can be the biggest problem. First you run the gauntlet of waiting staff, who if they don't greet you with a confused 'dining alone, sir?' usher you to a table nestling between noisy families or starry-eyed couples. Then there's where to put your eyes while you're waiting for a meal which you always eat too fast. Do you bring a book? Or gaze into your Blackberry? Or just contemplate the smaller and, proportionally, for lone travellers, much more expensive hotel room which you'll be heading back to very soon, as the same waiter who made you feel tiny can't wait to get you out and a full table-load in your place.
Yet there are reasons to hit the road on your own. You're free as a bird. If you want to spend three days drinking coffee in each and every cafe on the main street in Asmara, Eritrea, as I did on another recent trip, then there's no-one to stop you. I'd recommend doing that, by the way. And if you're travelling by train through Europe and find yourself hungover in Prague with an urge to go immediately to Barcelona, then play on, and change in Stuttgart, Milan and Port Bou. On your own there's no-one to get fed up of - except possibly yourself - and no-one to keep you awake with snoring. That marvellous feeling of real freedom is why many of us travel in the first place, and it's something that can only really be savoured on your own.
In the end, in Oslo, I got my answer. I found just the right little place to dry off, with large, communal dining tables and ordered plates of sushi delivered with a Scandinavian twist. I got chatting with some of my fellow diners and finished the night with half a dozen tips for similar places. I even plucked up enough nerve for a late cocktail at the Aku Aku Tiki bar, the kitsch-cool drinking house dedicated to Norwegian adventurer Thor Heyerdahl's south Pacific adventures who was the reason I was here in the first place. And the next day I got up early and strolled, in cold, crisp sunshine to Vigeland Park, a remarkable sculpture-filled green space with wonderful views across town.
As I looked across Norway's fine capital on a bright Sunday morning the trip seemed to be perfect. I wondered if it have been better with someone to share it with. What do you think?
