Traveling as an Introvert
My husband talks to strangers so I don't have to
Travel advice is often constructed for extroverts. Suggestions like “Go to a neighborhood bar and talk to a local” make an introvert like me wonder whether any of my experiences have been as lived and enlightening as they could have been. If you’re traveling alone, it’s even harder—that restaurant find down the cobblestoned alley, with nonnas serving bowls of pasta to locals, is a lot different as a solo diner than as a pair. Throw in a language barrier, and sometimes I wonder is travel even worth it for an introvert?
I actually don’t like labels of introvert and extrovert. Were they not in existence I don’t think I’d think of myself in any camp. The brushstrokes are too wide. Does alone time nourish me? Yes. Can I speak in front of 1000 people? Absolutely, without fear. I often teach convention rooms filled with 200 dance students. Yet in unfamiliar social situations, I lean more towards wallflower than the gregarious life of the party. Granted, this wallflower will remember and see everything that happened that night—and probably write about it later.
In my single days, I traveled alone often. Beyond my love for travel and exploration, it was a way for me to stretch my boundaries. I would feel uncomfortable not knowing a language, even the alphabet, and out of that discomfort came growth.
Most of my solo travel happened before smartphones, when there were no easy translations or instant information in my pocket. I learned a lot by watching. Sitting on a park bench watching how people went about their day; how they navigated the metro, which side they walked down the stairs. My heightened sense of observation became an asset for navigating the unfamiliar.
On a particularly lonesome day in Warsaw, I wandered to a tourist-heavy square, Starbucks nearby. Instantly spotting some Americans (easy to identify!) I offered to take their photo. Thirty seconds of conversation in English fueled me for the rest of the day.
A group tour isn’t my favorite activity, a small group can be tolerable. I learned as an introvert that being in a group can provide some welcome interaction when you’re in need of a dose. I’ve often met another introvert and we agreed to meet on another day to explore somewhere together. The right questions and a chatty guide can provide enough fodder for days of exploration in a city. And here’s where introverts and extroverts collide: when I started travelling with my very extroverted husband, I realized he needed an outlet, strangers to hold court with and fuel him. Small group tours gave him the chance to socialize and me the chance to just sit back and watch.
📝 This piece, written by Scott Monaco, was the launching pad for my thought process.
My extroverted husband has become my secret travel weapon. Entire essays I’ve written began because he struck up a conversation I never would have initiated myself. A significant part of what I write about comes from his ability to talk to anyone at any time. Unafraid, unabashed American friendliness contrasts my Canadian reticence.
The point is, the travel industry is very much constructed for extroverts—and so is much of the provided information. But sitting too firmly in these extrovert-introvert labels can do a us a disservice. Not a people person? Who cares. Experiencing Paris as a non-people person will be very different from experiencing Paris as a people person. Both are valid and differing experiences. There is no right way to travel, or right way to experience a place, just your unique perspective lens.
When I travel alone, I watch first and participate second.
I observe how people order coffee, where they sit, how they move through public spaces. I bring books to restaurants, but only as a backup companion. I take small group tours. None of these things make me less engaged with a place.
They make engagement possible on my own terms.
Observe, experience and reflect. Did you feel uncomfortable? Bored? That’s the wonderful thing about travel, getting in touch with your feelings and writing them down.
I always used to worry that I was traveling incorrectly. Because I wasn’t making friends in hostel bars or striking up conversations with strangers in cafés, I was somehow missing the “real” experience.
But perhaps observation is its own form of participation.
Some people collect phone numbers. Some collect stories.
With my husband in tow, I collect a bit of both.
If we haven’t met yet, I’m Richard Philion. I traveled the world during my dance career and continue to explore with the same passion. If you love adventures to both new and familiar places, I’d love to connect and share our mutual love for travel. Through the Travelling Troubadour, I hope to inspire and inform with stories, tips, and itineraries.
Feel free to message me directly—I’d love to meet you.
🧳 ✈️ Next week: Hiking alone to Otokomi Lake thinking every noise was a bear…
"When I travel alone, I watch first and participate second." YES! I totally agree and can relate. I love sitting and watching people. I find people fascinating, especially other tourists. I'm an introvert too and love to travel. A few minutes of connection is definitely plenty. Thanks for writing ❤️
I can so relate to this! Also, I don't like labels, either. I'm an observer, too, and rarely speak to strangers; it's always my husband who initiates conversations with locals, but somehow, I end up talking to them longer. And often, they approach me, and I can have a great conversation. However, I never had preconceptions of how to travel, how to experience the world. We are all different, and bring different points of view into travel writing, and all of them are relevant. Great piece, thank for bringing forward a good point.