By mid-morning, our tour bus was chugging its way through the steep and narrow streets of Naples. Italy’s third largest city is a charming mix of new and old, with the sparkling waters of the Bay of Naples separating the city from the menacing shadow of Mount Vesuvius. Our group had the privilege of stopping at a popular scenic outlook for photographs before heading towards Pompeii for our traditional pizza lunch.
Pulling up to the quaint yet classy restaurant, our group was joined by a smaller bus load of tourists, hungry and eager to taste whatever was creating such mouthwatering scents. Being solo, I was seated – tightly, at a table meant for four – with two other couples, one from Virginia and one from Arkansas. Although I most certainly would have preferred to take my pizza to go and sit outside in solitude, I knew that was not an option and took my seat. The couples chatted and compared travel itineraries, and I found their thick southern drawls quite soothing and enjoyable to listen to. Until their attention turned to me.
“Oh Honey….you’re not here alone, are you?” The drawl became sickly sweet, dripping with pity. Of course I perked right up and took this opportunity to explain the merits of solo travel and list off the destinations I’d experienced alone. Their horrified facial expressions spurred me on – I talked about the life-changing confidence I earned through my travels, and how every woman should branch out and try a solo trip.
The blank stares and awkward silence were finally broken by the woman from Virginia, “Well I don’t know how such a sweet young lady couldn’t find someone to travel with.” Everyone nodded with murmurs of agreement, and the conversation was turned away from me and into another direction. I excused myself from this table of horrors and went outside for some much needed air.
In a world where we’re constantly being encouraged to embrace people’s differences, somehow I always end up being rejected and misunderstood for mine. But at least the pizza was delicious.
