I travel alone

I travel alone

BY MARIA PEROSINO

I tavel alone.

This is one of the things about me that I always need to explain to people (together with what I’ve been studying, but this is another story). Solo travel it’s hard to understand, when you’re not doing it. And if you’re a woman, risking more, it’s even harder. People asking me (or themselves) Why?

I TRAVEL ALONE

And the pepople I’m talking to start thinking that I’m crazy/hasty/sad/lonely/antisocial. And how to explain them that I’m even too cautious, maybe risking more slipping on the stairs at home. And that solitude in Whatsapp era is a rare and precious good, kind of Holy Grail. And that I don’t hate people, but I always talk to anyone (or maybe I simply always talk, but that’s another story too). And that it only means that if I want to go somewhere, but in that moment nobody can or wants to come with me, I am not staying at home.

But most of all, how to explain them that I am happy?

I TRAVEL ALONE. AND SO DID MARIA PEROSINO

I bought this book because I needed to connect with someone who had my same thoughts. I discovered it by chance, like also by chance I found out that the author left this world in 2014 to undertake a new journey. And that she wrote another book, “The choices you didn’t make“, that silently took a place in my book wish list.

But let’s go back to I travel alone. A book about female travel that

It’s written for the women, but it’s not excluding men.

It’s a pleasantly fluid read. A book that can be easily scarfed down in a couple of days, or during a quite long train journey. Or a book that you can start reading in January and then go back to it in May because your final university dissertation, your graduation, Paris… and continue reading like you have never stopped.

I find myself in Maria for some things, like refusing technology when it comes to paper (books and planners). I feel different from her for other things, like the fact Maria was a professional art historian and I don’t understand any of it. Yes, I know…

People pass through a train station neighborhood out of need and why they’re there they’re already gone but not elsewhere yet.

 

And my favorite section is the one that talks about trains. Not only because I love the sound of the coaches on the tracks and I am more fascinated from train staions instead of airports, but because in this section I found my favourite thoughts. And because page 91 is the place where me and Maria connected.

 

 

Reading again and again that short passage, I felt closer and closer to the woman who wrote it, even though now she’s not with us anymore. Even though we’ll never meet in this life.

 

“Not only: it’s when looking out of the window that I think I realize what does it mean to feel wistful for something you have never lived. Because to me each train station is a hypothesis (too).”

 

And you, dear Mary, are a pleasant hypothesis. Who knows what wonderful conversation would I have had with you.

 

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