embracing the hard

on getting through the tough days of solo travel

a month or so before i departed for mexico, i walked home from brunch with my friend jo. she asked if i was excited for my big adventure. i was, i said, but also, i was nervous. i knew it would be amazing, but also, that it would be really hard. “why are you doing it if it’s hard?” she asked. in the moment, i didn’t have a good answer. why do we do anything that’s hard, really? our brains are naturally wired to defer to the easier option, aren’t they? and yet, here we are, out here doing hard things (cc @glennondoyle). travel is a particular kind of hard, because it’s also, in so many ways, quite easy. in relation to most hard things in the world, getting on a plane or a train and arriving in a new place is as easy as it comes. not to mention all the glamour of effectively leaving your real life behind for a moment and stepping into a version of yourself that’s braver, kinder, more interesting, more fun. or is that just me? vacation sarah, reporting for duty, preferably with a tan and a general sense of ease about her.

and yet, for all of its beauty, all of its magic, all of its ease, travel got me good yesterday. vacation sarah boarded an early morning bus from mexico city to san miguel de allende, thinking she’d plow through the 3 hours of tv she’d pre-loaded onto her ipad, and arrive in sma in time for lunch. ha! travel had other plans. turns out, it’s a holiday weekend here in mexico, which meant it took us nearly 2 hours just to leave the city (oy). as soon as we hit gridlock, i made the mistake of checking google maps for an eta. my 3 hour bus trip had suddenly morphed into at least 5. staring at the cars around us, i felt a sudden panic. claustrophobia set in. this is why you don’t take buses, i reminded myself. you hate this feeling.