Meeting my past self at gate D18

Almost two years ago on my first ‘long and unstructured’ solo trip, I was sitting on a very nauseating and tumultuous ferry ride from Gili Air to Bali - the kind where you cradle your face in your hands and beg your neighbour for another ginger candy to avoid throwing up. In the midst of it all, I had the sudden urge to write a ‘letter to my daughter.’

I should mention, I don’t have children and I’m not pregnant (yet). But somehow since turning 35, I’ve noticed myself buying jewelry I plan to pass down, writing my name in books I buy, and the weirdest of all, I know - recording videos or penning letters ‘to my kids.’

I was reminded of the Bali letter last week while traveling back to Bombay from Europe.

Boarding to Doha

I noticed the sign board change after some light perfume browsing, and made my way to gate D18 at Terminal 1 of Barcelona airport.

The queue was long, and my duffel bag felt extra heavy after a late night watching England’s quarter final World Cup victory, so I plopped myself down on the shiny marble floor near the gate after noticing no chairs were available.

“Are you also going to Doha?” I heard a Spanish sounding accent.

“Is the flight delayed, do you know?”

I looked over to see an earnest looking young woman turning her wrist to check her watch, then nodding toward the boarding queue that hadn’t started moving. Technically 20 minutes past when it should have.

“Hmm I don’t think so, sometimes they make up time in the air,” with a 2.5 hour connection and my mind preoccupied, I was already in full passenger mode.

“Let me check though,” I googled our flight number. “Online it says it’s on time, but let’s see.”

“Do you mind watching my stuff really quick while I run to the bathroom?” I grabbed my backpack with passport and phone just in case there was any mix up, leaving the duffel on the floor and letting her know nothing important was in there; she could leave if she needed to.

“Of course, I’ll be here!” She smiled, and I recognised how nice it was to have a taste of ‘travelling with’ someone where you didn’t have to find a way of strategically hanging all your heavy non-wheely bags on the hook of the bathroom door without them falling off.

“Is your final destination in Doha?” I asked her when I got back.

“No, I am going to Sri Lanka!” She proudly exclaimed.

“It’s my first time in Asia. And also my first time travelling solo.”

A semi professional ‘soccer’ player, who’s also a nutritionist, she tells me she also spends time teaching kids how to play the sport. Her mom didn’t speak to her for a few days after she told her about her trip plans. But she really wanted to have an adventure.

“I love my family of course, but it’s my life.”

“And you know, she wouldn’t have been like this with my brother. She would just have told him to be careful,” she shook her head.

The unexpected similarities between a Spanish family and a typical brown one made me smile.

“Yeah I mean, it’s obviously not an equal playing field and we can’t pretend otherwise, but it still feels like such a rebellious thing for women to travel solo,” I mused.

We chatted about the specifics of her Sri Lanka trip, including how she plans to rent a motorbike, go diving in the “north-yeast,” and visit the popular hiking area of “Eh-yah.” I liked her instantly.

“Have you travelled solo before?” she asked me.

“I’m a little scared to be honest,” she blinked.

“Yes I have, and it’s totally normal to be scared. Honestly. But it’s so awesome and brave that you’re following your heart even though it’s scary. You’re following what’s giving you a spark.” I said.

“You seem very cultivated,” she said after a pause.

I laughed.

“Ooh.. what does that mean?” It caught me a little off guard; not sure if something got lost in translation.

“You seem like you’ve travelled a lot and had a lot of experiences and wisdoms. And that you know yourself very well,” she replied.

“That’s probably the kindest thing anyone could say to me right now. It’s been a journey these last few years.”

As we waited in the boarding queue, then on the ramp to the plane where our seats happened to be one row apart, we continued chatting.

About how everyone seems like they’re on a ‘track;’ how what she wants most from life is to feel alive.

“It really does seem like the things that make each of us alive are not only unique but also specific in time. I feel like it’s our job to listen to those ‘hits’ of aliveness when we can… If we keep ignoring them, we’ll just become a shell of ourselves.”

I remembered how it had taken me a year to work up the courage to make the trip to Bali happen; I kept thinking I was ‘too old’ to do something like that.

“Yeah, but how will I be able to do all these adventure things and also have stability?”

She spoke about how at thirty, all of her friends were married, some with kids, and how she feared getting married and having kids would close off all adventure opportunities and doors to her.

“Maybe that life isn’t for me.”

“It’ll of course be very different, but you can strap your kid on your back like that and travel for a bit too, before they go to school,” I pointed at the small backpack she had packed for the next 10 days.

“A few friends and some random people I saw on Instagram have done that. Not easy, but seems like it can be done!”

“Really? I don’t know anyone like that,” she seemed genuinely surprised.

I hadn’t known many women who had travelled solo before I first started either. Or who were thriving in “unconventional” lives until I started living that way too.

And somewhere between Barcelona and Doha, I realised I wasn’t just talking to a stranger. I was talking to a version of myself from a few years ago. Maybe I was speaking to her the way I wish someone had to me - and how I hoped to encourage my future daughters in my letter.

We saw each other again as we sleepily walked off the red-eye flight, chatted a little more about her trip, and said our goodbyes.

She gave me a tight hug and while giving her my WhatsApp number “just in case,” I told her how excited I was for this new chapter ahead of her.

A few days ago, I got a text with a picture of her riding the motorcycle in Sri Lanka.

“Many thanks for making my start of the trip with very good vibes!!! ✨”