To have the nerve to travel solo – book myself a return ticket – was not a
pathway I’d planned on embarking upon. It just happened. Like most beautiful
things. My first solo holiday was to a quaint little beach in Karnataka in the
last quarter of 2012. Since then not only have my own perspectives undergone a
complete overhaul but so have those of the people around me – and I mean this
in the best way possible.
Well, for the most part traveling by yourself didn’t attract
any brownie points – the bravado was totally discounted for. Instead the
endless list of annoying questions never seemed to fade away. It was as a
response to all those initial reactions that I penned my first solo
travel-related blogpost. That I didn’t stop traveling nor writing after that
seems to have made the kind of difference that I felt was required.
So this December, in choosing to travel to Coorg I made yet
another decision: to reach Coorg via Bangalore. I got told by a few (the ones
who know routes better than most) that I should’ve instead travelled via
Mangalore as the route is shorter. I had to add here that no one asked me why I
chose the route I did – but then again advice is always free so I didn’t really
mind any of it. Now when I had first started making enquires for accommodation
I was told by the locals that the road via Mangalore was ridden with
potholes and not a convenient one at all. Also since I was anyway headed to Goa
from Coorg I would be taking the Mangalore road later – so I’d have completed
my Bangalore-Coorg-Mangalore roadtrip too. And isn’t travelling about the
journey and not the destination?
My first morning at my
homestay I woke up to a
beautiful jingle involving birds of different shapes and colours tweeting
alongside Taio Cruz and Mika Singh revving it on a player nearby. But the
jingles aside, it was only now that I was beginning to realize how beautifully
laid out this homestay was; bang in the middle of a spice and coffee
plantation. Greenery everywhere, I was reminded on the roadtrip from Bangalore
the previous day with farmlands and coconut trees alternating the landscape.
The morning was more nippy than usual courtesy the wind gods whooshing through
the night. Sitting at the porch with my morning’s cup of tea I was dazzled by
the fluttering butterflies.
After breakfast that morning I took a rickshaw ride to the
marketplace. I was back within cellular network coverage. A longish telephone
call made home not without a list of locally available produces to be brought
back took place, and I spent the next three odd hours aimlessly walking through
the marketplace, even paced – watching, observing, soaking in. Quite happy to
not have anyone bother or question me – and unlike other ‘touristy’ places no
one here tugged or pulled at my sleeve to come see something or purchase
something else. I walked into a couple of local shops only to be warmly greeted
by shop-owners who were more than pleased to display their wares, answer
questions, show a sample or two and make recommendations on what made better
sense for me to purchase. Here I realized that language was seldom ever a
barrier.
Lunch was had at a local hotel on my way back to my room, I
realized how something as simple as this walk can teach you how to trust your
inner compass and trust yourself (because you realize that you aren’t
geographically challenged even in an unknown little town). You learn to be
assertive and pleasant. And most importantly non-city bred folk seldom get
bothered by a ‘solo female traveller’ – I’ve seen more eyebrows being raised
(and recede into hairlines) by urban educated people!
Speaking of which, travelling by myself has taught me that
it’s okay to get used to people being uncomfortable. But for the most part of
it, people watch out for you – whether you’re a lone male or female or a group
of people traveling to anywhere for the first time – people generally watch out
for you and help you in any capacity they can. So, I had conductors directing
me to empty seats (when they realized that my bag alone occupies more space
than I do!), my homestay host not only picked but also dropped me back to the
Coorg bus-stand the day I left (I had to leave at 7 AM which is early enough if
not too early, and he didn’t charge me extra). I also learnt that rickshaw
drivers are pleasant folks. Once I was off the bus, I was provided directions
to the rickshaw stand by rickshaw drivers themselves who’d only just dropped
passengers off at the bus stop. Me thinks they could’ve easily have fleeced me
by offering to take me to my destination!
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This post was originally published on the India Untravelled Blog
here