Almost Alone - A Prologue to a Semi-Solo Travel

Packing, charging devices, printing itineraries, cross-checking documents — it all begins with a flurry of lists. The days — or should I say months — leading up to the journey are filled with small rituals. I had decided to go on this trip nearly 8 months back. Managing the visa, planning the itinerary , booking tickets. As the days came closer it was - Currency exchanged. Weather checked. Luggage weighed. The excitement builds, the countdown begins. It’s a well-oiled drill.

I’ve travelled plenty — but never like this. Never for this long, and never truly solo. This time, I’m on my own for three weeks in the USA, attending my niece’s wedding. What do I do in those three weeks - Days to be spent at home with family and days to see places. What to see? How much to spend. Will I be bored being alone seeing the sights? Should I do a package tour? So many questions.

The packing itself was different. Travel clothes and clothes to wear for the wedding. Things to carry for myself and items which others have requested me to bring along. How many pieces of luggage to carry? Will two suitcases, an airbag and a backpack be an overkill for 3 weeks? But where do I keep the sweets? And should  carry my laptop? Man, this is so hard. 

And in the last few hours - where did I keep the passport? Have I packed my flip flops? When do I pack my mobile charger? Why has the cab service not shared driver details? Should I have dinner at home or should I eat something at the lounge in the airport.

Dinner done, the cab arrives right on schedule and traffic is thankfully light and I reached the airport well in time. 

There things fell into place like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Check-in was smooth, one was treated like royalty. Immigration was polite and a breeze, security was exceptionally efficient. What had I been fretting for all these days. I walked past the Duty Free Shop with the fragrance of the perfumes wafting in the air and all the brand of whiskies lined up and glided into the Business Lounge — an oasis of calm. A sense of privilege swept over me. 

I looked for a quiet seat in a corner, got myself a glass of chilled beer in hand, watched passengers, young and old walk past. It should feel like the perfect beginning. Isn’t it? 

But something tugged. A small ache rose, surprising in its timing.

My wife, partner of 35 years, was at home. She’s usually by my side — fussing over the finer details, reminding me what I may forget, why those extra pair of clothes are not needed, sharing my small joys and big blunders. Now, she wasn’t here to double-check the gate number or share a laugh over my last-minute scramble. Her absence is not loud — it’s quiet, like a missing note in a familiar tune.

I sat with my drink, free to unwind, unhurried. And yet, the freedom felt… different.

This wasn’t loneliness — not quite. It was a gentle reminder that even the most well-earned solitude sometimes comes with a sense of loneliness.

The journey ahead is full of promise — places to explore, people to meet, events to attend, stories to gather and share. But before all that, I pause to acknowledge this — the strange blend of anticipation and emptiness that marks the start of solo travel.

This post is the first in a series — notes from a traveller navigating both new places and old emotions. The pleasures of freedom. The quiet pain of presence missed.

Let’s see where the road — and the soul — lead.

Check out ---------------------> Transit 1 - US Trip