The Bright Side to Solo Travel

The leaves are about gone. Despite it being the end of December, there is still some life in them. Fall and winter so far have been quite mild here in Ankara. The bare, gnarly branches outside in front of my balcony are a sign of winter, but the 06.00 street sweeper-man moves his broom and dustpan down the street much more quickly now too. I wonder how long his season goes? What happens to his paycheck when the leaves stop falling and there is nothing left to sweep up?

It’s the day after Boxing Day and as the sun comes up I’m putting the last things into a suitcase for a trip to Stockholm. This trip is not for work and I’ll only be alone while in transit. Once I get there, I will have good friends to share the experience with. I am of course looking forward to this, but I am aware that, although walking a city with a native may take me to some non-touristic gems, the element of surprise goes away a bit. The chance encounters that a solo-woman can encounter, although often annoying, can be their own gems that just wouldn’t happen if she had a companion. Okay, so it has taken me a while to come back to writing this story. I have no excuses other than I’ve been traveling a lot.

Seconds after the guy with the big club realized I was no threat, both of our frightful expressions became equally apologetic. I felt bad disturbing him and he felt bad for wanting to bruise whomever it was knocking on his door. His English was good and he explained that he had just closed his place for the season. It was early November and the seaside town just wasn't booming with business in winter. It was late, or it seemed late, and I simply asked him if he could recommend another place for the weekend. He said that he could, of course, and as his initial shock subsided more and more, his offers increased. "Well, you can stay here for one night. How many nights do you need . . . oh, two, well, you could stay here for two, but there won't be anyone to make you breakfast. Well, I will call my friend and see if he can make your breakfast tomorrow. He can be here by 10, what time do you want to eat . . . oh, you get up early, I will ask him to be here by 8.30 . . . " His increased willingness and efforts to get me to stay were at first kind and then a bit weird, and once he invited me to have dinner with him, I was on the phone with a friend in Ankara, pretending I was talking to "my boyfriend who couldn't come with me on this trip, unfortunately." This was a case of trying to read the line between Turkish hospitality and a creepy guy thinking he's going to get lucky in his empty hotel tonight. I took a chance and stayed.

What ended up happening was me having an entire refurbished historic Ottoman home to myself. This man had created his own "Art Hotel" with antique artifacts decorating the interior common space and about 10 rooms of this inn. My breakfast chef was Jacob who spoke less English than I spoke Turkish, but we spent two-hours sharing stories over coffee and simit that morning, him showing me photos of his army days in the 80s. With pictures, a map and good senses of humor, Jacob and I laughed and learned from each other's stories.

I had a similar experience in Istanbul when I was there a couple of years ago. Walking through the busy Sultan Ahmet with my guidebook obviously seeking out a tourist trap, I was stopped by a man speaking to me in German. I kept walking pretending not to pay attention. He switched to Italian and then Spanish before I told him that I was from New York (my easy answer these days). He then apologized saying I didn't look American and that his English wasn't very good. He asked me where I was going and when I told him I was seeking out the big cisterns, he said, "oh now, I can show you something better." Red flags should have gone up for obvious reasons, but something in me wasn't afraid of this guy. He was older and smaller than I was, so if nothing else, I could outrun him, but I knew he wasn't really a threat. For the rest of the afternoon he took me to remote corners of Istanbul that few tourists had seen. I participated in an afternoon prayer at the "Baby Aya Sofia," walked into the depths of the most amazing cistern that was lined with ancient columns and sat in a traditional teahouse surrounded by a cemetery where all the locals hung out. I ended up buying him lunch, which was how I paid him back for a great day. It turned out that he was out of work from the University and he was playing tour guide to solo travelers like me for an extra buck. He offered to go with me up the Bosporus the next day, but said that he couldn't afford the ferry ride.

Yes, he was looking to make a buck off of me. Turned out that the club-guy was too. Charged me more than I expected for his private Ottoman house and that is always a letdown. It would have happened if I was alone or with someone, though, but the breakfast with Jacob and the private tour of Istanbul probably wouldn't have. Really, a lunch and an in-season price for a beautiful out-of-season experience didn't put me out much. I have choices to decline the offer or pay the money, say good-bye and end my day very happy. I have had similar encounters with friendly people in Italy too, which I am pretty sure wouldn't have happened if I was traveling with a boyfriend, probably not if I had a female friend either. The solo female traveler's vulnerability attracts the weirdoes, but it also attracts those that want to reach out to a wandering soul. My luck has been quite good, and memories many. The hidden scams are a bummer, but the hidden gems are what I always remember.