I should have seen this coming.
Teacher is an artiste – not a practical bone in his body. It’s part of his charm. Sometimes.
Teacher forgot to check the visa requirements for entering the United Arab Emirates… and it looks extremely unlikely that he will be granted one for next week’s Kizomba festival in Dubai. Just like that, I went from the gal who knew the guy who knew EVERYONE to the gal who’ll know NO ONE. Oye. Even better? Teacher told me not to worry, I should just come back to Mtl, and take my vacation at a later date, at another festival. Bruh. NO.
Imma reread the cheat sheet of How to Make Friends at a Dance Festival from Madrid: hell nah, I am not missing out on this sick opportunity just because of my anxiety of not knowing anybody, or because any festival without Teacher can’t be as fun as a festival with Teacher. This will be one big adventure. Alone.
Unlike my last 2 trips to Paris, where I socialized constantly with current and former colleagues, this trip I’ve spent my evenings alone. I adore my French coworkers – to the point that I consider them as real friends – but I’m maxed out. This work trip has felt like a break – not because the workload was light, it wasn’t! – but because I’ve distanced myself from the constant clamour of friends, family, coworkers and my trainwreck dating life*. I’ve enjoyed my routine of walking around Paris and trying a new restaurant every night. I no longer feel conspicuous eating on my own.
As I head to Dubai, I think I’ll achieve a similar balance. Dynamo’s brother and sis-in-law have to work, so I’ll be on my own during the days but surrounded by their love in the evenings. Perfect. I’ll explore, or not. I’ll nap on the beach, or not. I’ll maybe even catch up on work, or not. Next weekend, the dance festival takes place in the late afternoon and evenings, so I will have my mornings to myself, before dancing the night away. Surrounded by people, but on my own.
It’s silly that such a simple thing like travelling alone can feel like an insurmountable obstacle. In fact yesterday, I almost didn’t go to a very hip/trendy/bohemian area of Paris, bc I felt my aloneness would be too conspicuous; but then I decided that was bullshit and I should view this as practice for Dubai. Obvi, as a woman, I must always consider safety. But as a street-smart woman, I’m very capable of keeping myself out of any real trouble. So this fear I feel of travelling alone? It’s actually a fear of being judged. Once upon a time, that fear would have stopped me.
*I’m not gonna lie, I’m loving the break from boys. After recent drama with Beaut, Hickster and a few others, two weeks of no contact with any of them feels like detox. Maybe I should become a nun.