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Lonely Planet, Sort OfBy Roz Plotzker
The exciting thing for me about traveling wasn’t simply the thrill of practicing my hand gestures for people that didn’t speak English, no sir. It was to practice that stuff by myself since I did a lot of my traveling alone... Are you shocked? Impressed? Appalled? When people would ask who I was traveling with, I could always count on a funny response when I explained “just me.” The general reaction usually involved questions like “but what if you want to go out at night?” or whether or not I was scared. My all time favorite comment came from a ticket vender who asked “So are you alone or have you been abandoned?” (possible response: “Yes, I’ve been deserted! Please let me fall into your strong, British, ticket-selling arms so you can comfort me!” ) As a woman traveling alone, I didn’t really consider myself fresh meat for predators, and in retrospect maybe I should have been a little more cautious. I did practically get raped by the exchange rate … Was that joke too much? I met up with friends from my abroad program in two of the cities, hung out with people from hostels, at one point I ran into a friend from Penn – dear lord, the Quakers are everywhere. To say I was alone would be a blatant lie. A lot of the people that hung out with were men, and if there weren’t other women around I felt a little anxious. On reason might be that women just don’t travel alone as much as men, so when lonesome travelers hang out with each other, there will be a male majority. Towards the end of my trip I felt more comfortable traveling on my own, and I found myself taking risks I probably wouldn’t have in the beginning. When I arrived in London I checked into my hostel. I was greeted by a Swiss guy named Clever (yes, that is his name). Apparently he was one of the chef’s in the restaurant attached to the hostel. After talking for a bit, he said “I’ll be in the bar if you want to come see me when you have put away you things.” Love those Swiss accents. A few minutes later I went to look for the internet lounge and took a wrong turn into the bar. Clever waved, I went over to talk to him. “I was just looking for the computers…” Awkward pause. It was December 26th – Boxing day. Why did I decide to come to England on boxing day? I told Clever I doutbed there would be pubs open. “No! we will go out tonight I will take you to a good bar.” I told him maybe after I check my email and then went upstairs. “I’ll be waiting!” I heard from behind. Oy.
That incident in London worked out well, but don’t be misled, shit DOES happen. In Paris on New Years Eve, I went to the Eiffel tower with a group from my abroad program. Have you ever been to a really, really dirty frat party? Never before in my life had I had a stranger lick my face. Even on the subway home when I had a guy friend standing next to me on guard, the man standing next to me – who could barely stand at all – managed to find a way to slip his hand below my waist. An urban New Years Eve is never a friendly place for women. This is not one of those articles about what’s wrong with the French. What I learned from this experience is fourfold: if you travel alone be confident; if you are a woman and traveling alone be especially confident; don’t forget to be cautious; most importantly don’t let any caution keep you from having a great experience. Contact Information Images by Roz Plotzker |
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TM
Back
to the states, back to Penn, back to classes – which are back-to-back. One
of the hardest things about returning from a semester abroad in Rome is the
adjustment to American academic culture. Suddenly a life that I’d
practically forgotten about has been “resurrected” (OK, so I spent too much
time around the Vatican), and I find myself on locust walk heading towards
Houston Hall to meet with a friend so that I can condense 4 months in Europe
into 10 minutes and a 33 oz. diet Pepsi. As if explaining a normal winter
break wasn’t enough. 
Unlike
last year’s winter break in North America that climaxed with a road trip to
Canada, this year I made my way up through central Europe: Venice to Vienna
to Bratislava to Budapest to Prague, then over to London and Paris. (Who
knew that Slovakia would be so cool?) My mother asked me if I felt any
connection when I was in Hungary, since my great-great-great uncle
supposedly lived there. Well, the Turkish baths were cool. However I can’t
say I sensed a spiritual bond to the middle aged women in the sauna, even if
I did see them reading the daily newspapers naked. I can see why the
Greenwalds immigrated to America. On average in December central Europe gets
about an hour of sunlight a day, but when I was there the sun was completely
blocked out, so I felt like I was in the first episode of the Matrix. 
I
was bored and a little curious, so I met Clever back downstairs and we went
out into the mildly deserted streets of London. Not the smartest thing I’ve
ever done, I admit that. There were no bars open. I ended up getting a tour
of the deserted shopping areas and eventually we stuck into a fancy hotel to
go to the rooftop lounge and look at the city. Sounds romantic, but luckily
he just continued talking about his family, even if he did take me up to a
blatant make out spot. At the end of the night I was able to go to sleep
feeling happy that I’d taken the risk.