Rules of Disengagement
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Detached: Traveling alone is difficult on various levels. All images by Ian Layugan.
However, I was traveling alone for a fellowship. I had admired this Hong Kong college’s political science program since I heard about it. Ironically—for details I’ll spill later—for a feisty spirit like me, I got accepted on a summer course on conflict management.
On the day of my flight, I barely made it to the check-in counter at NAIA. My flight was scheduled for early morning, and when I got into the immigration area, the five-hour bus ride from Baguio City and lack of sleep showed in my eyes and my disheveled hair and shirt.
The only document I had was the letter of acceptance from the organizing college. To make matters worse, I failed to bring more IDs other than the one issued by my university, which I took only for the student discount for the bus ticket. I did not bring a letter from my dean or authorization from the University's Chancellor.
The immigration officer was not convinced that a lone, 18-year-old who paid no mind to bringing more supporting documents to travel could be invited abroad to discuss Bangsamoro Secessionism and the Gaza Strip Conflict on an academic platform. I was off-loaded.
For a non-Manileño like me, I had very meager options for coping.
I spent the day on my cellphone, calling my parents and adviser to send more documents via a bus (for speed). In the nearby Starbucks, guzzling too much coffee (to keep my spirits up) while waiting for updates, and much later, in Victory Liner where I retrieved my documents and cashed my parents’ remittance in a nearby pawnshop (I also left my ATM card) to book a new flight.
The new ticket I got was scheduled to leave at midnight. By 8 p.m., exhausted and overwhelmed by the circumstances of the day, I dozed off by the floor, in a corner.
A guard took pity on me. Pointing out that my backpack or DSLR camera are delicious targets for some airport thieves, asked me to follow him. He led me to an office and offered me the couch where I got a few hours of much-needed sleep over a basketball game on TV and the cussing of some hardcore NBA fans.
That was eight years ago. If someone had asked me that time how solo travel was, I might have burst into tears. Too busy getting things done, cursing myself over my ignorance and idiocy, too occupied to even care about how I looked or where my things were, I was too detached to feel humiliated.
Getting to Hong Kong may not sound like a big deal for many, but the circumstances that got me there made the experience exponentially special.
I realized it was just the tip of the iceberg.
Through the years, listening to others’ experiences and reflecting on my own, I realized that traveling alone is difficult on various levels, depending on context. Ladies usually have the worst of it. They are exposed to a position of vulnerability. Alone, they become easy prey to robbery and theft, cat-calling, indecent proposals, and harassment.
A girlfriend told me that she thought she found love in Boracay when she traveled alone and met a guy at a pub. She realized she was set up when they were drinking in Diniwid Beach, and the guy who said he was going to use the restroom never came back—with her purse.
As travelers in our teens, we faced economic issues. Armed with a free spirit, a strong urge for adventure, and time to burn, we wanted to explore and experience everything but on a very tight budget. This way, we matured with budgeting and skimping skills.
After our senior year finals, my classmates and I decided to explore Bangued in Abra up north. We blew our allowance on food and tricycle rides that we had to call someone’s dad to fetch us.
Today, you may also have to deal with gossip. When you return from a solo trip and you post on your social media accounts, the 411 is that you traveled with someone you don’t want to reveal: “Who took your photos? Who were you with?”
Also, think AWOL, calling in sick, and being absent on workdays sandwiched between weekends and holidays.
When I was in college, a groupmate didn’t help in the completion of our project. She told us that she was depressed and had to go to La Union to mend a broken heart. We were sympathetic. We dropped her from our group when a photo from her La Union trip appeared on our feed, a photo of her cozying up to her supposed ex-boyfriend.
The point of being alone is that you are stripped of travel comforts and spoils, unless you booked extravagantly for yourself for a glam splurge.
As a solo traveler, you develop responsibility—a stronger sense of self-control and self-esteem. You develop responsibility for your body, your actions, and your welfare. You become more aware of your position as a person in a community or culture. You are the only subject you know, and you allow yourself to be your own critic.
You can travel alone even if you are partnered, a mother, or a millennial. The main idea is to give yourself space and air.
You become proud of yourself for experiencing something you may never will if you haven’t packed your bags. By being solo, you rise from your baser ideas and instincts. You are not basically wild or wallowing in self-pity. In moments of isolation, we get to develop a deeper relationship with ourselves, and we become reflective and spiritual.
The journey becomes internal, and since you can’t think out loud, your ideas become monologues and asides. You have no choice other than to speak to yourself. You ask yourself basic questions: What restaurant should I try? What sites must I go to first? You become an authority on yourself since you do not have the need to consider someone else’s feelings or requirements. You engage or disengage yourself any way you want—but still responsibly so.
Moreover, the construct changes because you no longer rely on blogs or TripAdvisor. You are free to get off the beaten path and set a story or standard for yourself. You also become competitive. You dare yourself to build an itinerary that is all yours, instead of poring over reviews and travel guides or tips, That way, the experience becomes entirely personal, and the place gets etched as a memory that is completely yours, a narrative that only you can tell.
Even when I am with a group, I crave a day off the itinerary for myself, to explore the spaces I want and do the things I want to do -- seeing alleyways and churches, sitting in hole-in-the-wall cafés, or finding bargains in flea markets.
On a trip to Macau with cousins on a strict and full itinerary, the itch to wander alone was so strong I would flee when they retired to bed.
I met a half-Chinese, half-Filipino guy one night in a bar when I sneaked out on a snoring cousin. The guy said his mom was Ilocano, but he never learned the language or culture. We talked about Filipino moms compared with moms in other cultures.
When it was almost dawn, he drove me to the Garden of Flower City. From a bench that he called his own one got a 360-degree view of the city—the tall buildings and alluring lights, and the crack of the day chasing the stars. It was something you just didn’t stumble onto on your own.
Yet, travel also has ways of reminding you lessons you never seem to learn.
One time, I underestimated my travel time from our home in Baguio to Clark International Airport in Pampanga. When I got to Dau, I only had less than an hour left for check-in. I was angry with myself because this was the expected consequence of carelessness and I let it happen.
As I was waiting for a taxi or tricycle (at this point, I was not even sure which) to bring me to the airport, a man who stopped for some takeout approached me.
I wasn’t sure what facial expression gave me away, but the man offered to take me to the airport, where, he said, he was picking up his boss, an Army general.
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“No, no,” he waved. He produced identification from his pocket. He is a policeman. “You either have to trust me or you’ll miss your plane.”
With not much choice, I got in. We engaged in a friendly chat on the road. He talked about his favorite travel destination -- Hong Kong. I recounted my pre-Hong Kong NAIA experience, too, and amusingly, the circumstances were similar to what I was then experiencing -- the result of my tardiness and the kindness of strangers.
“Swertehan lang talaga iyan minsan,” he said. Sometimes, it’s just luck.
For a solo traveler who can’t seem to avoid a mishap, I could not agree more.
Ian Layugan hails from Baguio City and is currently based in Gunma Prefecture, Japan where he works with the Kiryu City Board of Education under the Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme. He has written for Rappler and has led research projects for Oxfam, Asmae International, and the Asia Research Institute at the National University of Singapore. Follow him on Instagram/Twitter at @ijlayugan.
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