Thrilling view, spectacle, or remarkable beauty and you exclaim to your travel mate “Look at that!” then realize that he or she is not there.
An exotic meal or extraordinary wine unshared.
Alone....
Pitiful huh?
According to many, yes.
Solo travelers are, as my late father used to say about anyone different, queer ducks.
Women, old or young, who solo are bold, adventurous, and quirky with devoted blogs, websites and books to extoll, warn, advise, and embrace their audacity. Not so for older guys.
Don't get me wrong – I admire that indomitable spunk that drives women or anyone to explore.
The exact same trait that men who travel alone share.
Take Reynaldo. He's an edgy old dude from Toronto with whom I shared a ride into downtown Quito from the airport. A long time to the car because he has a prosthetic leg that compounded the burden of luggage and thinner air for us sea level wusses.
We later met on a trek to see local nature and encounter indigenous Andeans.
The Canadian health care system, he said, has its goods and flaws. He told about his “exploded gall bladder” surgery including an initial invasion where the surgeon decided he was not competent to continue.
The MD called for more experience on the spot then was advised to insert tubes and sew up until there was a better time.
The interim caused Reynaldo's biology to create a mess in which certain of his organs became “stuck together”.
His most recent surgery was 4 weeks prior to his trip to Ecuador.
A retired gastroenterologist aboard our van, not in Reynaldo's presence, doubted the truth of his story. The rest of us stared at the floor. We did not care.
Reynaldo also failed his medical for private pilot re-certification because he has diabetes and a pacemaker.
A cardiologist friend challenged the ruling arguing that the pacemaker actually made Reynaldo a lesser risk than the published guidelines advised. Unfortunately Reynaldo was irrelevantly victorious because his prosthetic leg prevents him from entering a cockpit.
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