I identify myself as a hardcore introvert.
I am not shy.
Shyness and introversion are two different things.
I am an introvert because I have always enjoyed being alone. Hanging out with people for no reason never made sense to me.
When I was very young, in grades 1-3, I remember desperately waiting for lunch breaks. I used to have my lunch alone under a giant banyan tree in our school ground, on the far side of the classroom building. That was the only time I truly got to be alone, and I really loved it. Not because I didn’t have friends or didn’t like them—no, I never thought it was about them. I just liked being on my own.
Then you grow up, and you realize that if you’re always left out of group projects, teams, and games, you don’t like that feeling. So, you start mixing with people and making friends. Humans always crave a sense of connection, a sense of belonging.
Then your teenage years begin. If you like being alone, you will be hated, cornered, bullied. So, you make fake friends—to survive.
And when the hustle begins—the time when you start reflecting on everything so far, where you are, and where you want to be—you like being alone again. And now you understand why. You like to think deeply. Your mind takes you places, into worlds beyond comprehension, let alone explaining them to someone. You start to feel different. What goes on in your mind isn’t what people usually talk about. Sometimes, you let your intrusive thoughts slip in public, and people are surprised by your words. And now you know for sure you’re different—because why else would they laugh it off? Why would they turn their heads toward you?
So, you like being alone—with your thoughts, in your world.
The downside of this is that you limit yourself—to your own mind. You slowly start quantifying everything. For example, “Is this conversation useful for my personal growth?” And when it comes to people, “Is this person resourceful, or just another time-waster?”
You are left alone with your thoughts. And now, you don’t connect with anyone. And this is not good. Remember, humans always crave a sense of connection, a sense of belonging.
And that is why you should explore solo traveling—especially if you’re an introvert.
You’d be surprised to find that there are so many like you.
Everyone, living in their own world.
They have adapted—adjusted—to live with people. They laugh, dance, chill, drink beer, hang out, fall in love, travel, and do everything that seems fun, but they also live on their own terms. They think on their own, design their own lives, their own days, their own personalities. They make decisions and are comfortable being alone.
You shouldn’t travel to find these people. They are very good at switching between different versions of themselves depending on the vibe, mood, and personal liking. So, you must not search for them. They will reveal themselves if they find a version of themselves in you—the little introverted version you’re trying to desperately hide. They know this feeling too well. They find you. You don’t find them. Not as a beginner. No.
The point I’m trying to make is—when you travel solo, you find many people like you. You won’t necessarily talk to them. They won’t necessarily talk to you. But in that brief moment when you look into their eyes, you’ll know how they’re feeling. You’ll feel the warmth of their presence.
I traveled to Goa recently—my first solo trip.
One fine afternoon, I was sitting in a cafe where an old man was playing live music with different instruments—flutes, harp, handpan… and I looked at him and felt the sudden urge to sketch him. I sat at a distance with my hot cup of cappuccino and butter croissant. To my left was a young lady making handmade jewelry. We were all sitting on the floor. I didn’t know anybody. This was a whole new world. And yet, I felt warm, safe, surrounded by people.
Two girls were dancing ecstatically. One girl was lying down, eyes closed, feet gently tapping the floor to the music. A guy in front of them sat upright, carefully watching the old man play. A few meters away to the right was a pool, where a bunch of ladies floated, listening to the music.
The whole place had a trance-like vibe—a world of its own.
It’s crazy that as I sit here writing this in my room, where all I hear are bus horns, car horns, and the sound of my keyboard clicking, I think about that place, and I am transcended back to it.
I sat there for six hours. By the time I was done sketching, most people had left. The old man was still playing. I waited for him.
When he finally stopped and started packing his stuff, I went up to him.
Now, mind you—as an introvert, this was not easy for me. To walk up to someone, straight up. Maybe that’s why I waited for everyone to leave, so I could gather just enough courage to talk to him.
I went up and, without saying anything, showed him my sketch.
He was surprised! He smiled and said, Thank you. He asked if he could take a picture of it. He told me that if he ever used it for an album cover, he would contact me.
See? That easy.
Now, if you’re thinking I made some dope-shit level art, I didn’t.
Here’s what I made. It’s okay. It’s not mind-blowing. But I explained why I made the branches. Why I made the eyes. Even though he didn’t ask me. But I mean, I just made a sketch—the least I can do is talk about it, right?
And he was even more surprised.
We are not friends.
But I made a connection.
Was my intention to make a connection when I entered the cafe? No. I just let my mind feel comfortable, made good decisions in the moment, acted impromptu on them, and saw where it took me.
And that’s it.
An experience is now counted in. Now that I have done it once—I am sitting here dreaming of building a whole hand-painted album art business.
Why am I dreaming this? Because I have proven to myself that I can do it.
By doing a tiny version of it in real life.
In real time.
And now, I feel confident about it.
And that is why you should travel solo.
This is just one of many reasons. And I would love to make a part 2 on this.
But that’s it for this time! 🙂
🖤🖤
