Now that my children are grown and, for the most part, I have recovered a habit, and a love: solo travel(独自旅行). The1was planted when I was 17 and went on a class trip to Spain. After that adventure I sought every opportunity to 2 on my own, because I wanted to3as I wished, noting my4into my journal.
I5, many years ago, before I became a dad, arranging to6for a summer on an Icelandic farm in exchange for room and board. My7were to take a bus along the south coast from Reykjavik and get off at a certain crossroads, where the farmer was to pick me up. The driver8at the appointed place, but no one was there to9me. And so I put my backpack down in a sheep field and read a book, having10myself that when one11, one is never lost. Sure enough, within a reasonable amount of time my host12, and I spent a lovely summer haying (制干草) with a family in which not a word of English was13.
I tell this last story to lessen the14of friends and others who have occasionally raised their hands to their faces upon15what I was up to. Some are specialists in outlining for me all the things that can go wrong when one puts oneself into the16. But for me, that's the whole17of travel: to go where I haven't gone before, to18friendships waiting to be made, to 19a new and, for me, undiscovered environment where being pleasantly surprised is the20.
