Introverts live differently than extroverts. Not surprisingly, they also travel differently. Trust me, I know.

Peeking, Istanbul, Turkey

Sophia Dembling, Confessions of an Introverted Traveler:

Introversion and extroversion are inborn traits, and the difference between them is not that one is gregarious and at ease in the world and the other shy and awkward. Rather, extroverts are outwardly motivated and gain energy from interaction with the outside world while introverts are more inwardly directed and drained by interaction with others. Introverts’ thinking tends to be deep and slow, we require copious time alone, we prefer probing conversation to shallow chitchat, and our social lives are geared more towards intimate one-on-one interactions than “more the merrier” free-for-alls.

To add, Jonathan Rauch, Caring for Your Introvert:

… introverts are people who find other people tiring.

Extroverts are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone. … In contrast, after an hour or two of being socially “on,” we introverts need to turn off and recharge. … This isn’t antisocial. It isn’t a sign of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as eating. Our motto: “I’m okay, you’re okay—in small doses.”

A traveling life, especially one spent in the halls of hostels around the world, is easier for extroverts. But the joy of traveling is still accessible to introverts; Sophia Dembling, in an article worth reading in full, Six Tips for Introverted Travelers:

1. Be open to conversation when it’s offered.

… In her book Introvert Power, psychologist Laurie Helgoe points out that introverts generally prefer deep conversation to superficial chitchat. I’m never afraid to turn conversations to to the subject of worldview, personal goals, politics and other Deep Thoughts.

Regular, daily, social chit-chat doesn’t come easy to introverts. I don’t think extroverts truly understand this.

Introverts (well, at least me) get bored by the typical conversations about past exploits and future destinations; but we’re ready for the deeper explorations of cultural and economic differences that travel helps create. Just not all the time…

Trails, Istanbul, Turkey

Continuing…

2. Don’t be shy about ending an encounter when you’re ready.

A lot of times, random conversations lead to invitations to parties, to travel companionship, to meet others. … Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed to say “no” if you’re not feeling it. Then again, say “yes” sometimes, too. You never know.

“Saying yes” is one of the keys to creating serendipity; figuring out when to say “yes” and “no” to optimize for serendipity is particularly important for introverts, part of the constant battle to balance one’s time between expending and recharging social energy.

(And to be clear, I like raucous good times. Just not every night.)

3. Carry a book.

… I always carry a book when I travel for when I need to create a quiet place for myself. Travel is wonderful and exhausting and over-stimulating. Sometimes I need to escape into the tranquility of reading.

A book, a camera, a pad of paper and a pen, the tools for a happy day.

Give me a computer with an Internet connection, and that’s bliss for a couple days.

Targets, Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Continuing…

4. Develop the art of sitting and watching.

In her book, Helgoe talks about the French term “flâneur” (feminine, “flâneuse”). It translates literally to “idler or loafer,” but the poet Charles Baudelaire defined it as a passionate observer. Yes, yes! I am a flâneuse. I love just sitting and watching people doing what they do, and even more so when I travel.

If there were truly any doubts, yes, I am a flâneur, of a sort. Done and done.

5. Take a walking tour or, even better, hire a guide yourself.

I have found this controlled interaction is a great way to get some conversation in with a local. …

Honestly I’ve never had the desire to hire a guide. Give me a map, point me in the right direction and I’m much happier to amuse myself with whatever I see and find.

Private Wishes in Public, Sofia, Bulgaria

Continuing…

6. Take the downtime you need.

I’m not opposed to traveling with others—a good travel companion is a joy and an extroverted companion can make connections for you on the road. But I’m also not shy about eking out time to myself as necessary.

The short intersections of time and place shared by travelers simply aren’t conducive for softly educating people about what introverts need; frankly both introverts and extroverts suffer from an inability to communicate about their preferred ways to travel and live.

But hopefully this will help…

—

i. Links via Jason Kottke
ii . Related reading: Party of One: the Loner’s Manifesto

The more I travel, the less I expect, the less I seek, the more I find. (Twitter)

Reality Reflected, Galata Bridge, Istanbul, Turkey

A bit of rambling, images with less than a thousand words adding to the half-thoughts, half-stories and half-conversations.

Rebecca Willis in Sailing on Dry Land, citing Meriweather Lewis about a portage in Montana:

… the winds are sometimes so strong in these plains that the men informed me that they hoisted a sail in the canoe and it had driven her along on the truck wheels. This is really sailing on dry land.

Chasing the Night, Sofia, Bulgaria

Intellectual loneliness is worse than social loneliness. (Twitter)

In Between, Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Blind Taste / Robin Goldstein, More on bicycle prices: but what about the common people?

The more we look at the marketing strategies adopted by the modern manufacturers of luxury goods like wine, automobiles, and even five-bladed razors, the more we see the manipulation of social norms substituting for real product development, and the more we see companies’ cost bases shift toward advertising and away from R&D.

(via Diana Kimball)

Open, Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria

Jeff Lindsay, in a comment on Mark Cuban’s post The Internet is about to change:

Realtime is just a side effect of event-driven systems.

Staring, Ortakoy Mosque, Istanbul, Turkey

Current reading material: books about change, uncertainty, uneasiness (and lots of web geekery). Stories about the comforts of home simply wouldn’t be healthy.

Half Open Arms, Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, Sofia, Bulgaria

Everyone needs a mentor and a muse. (Twitter)

In and out, Istanbul, Turkey

Something I’m missing right now: baseball, the crack of the bat, the atmosphere of a minor league game. I’ve always wanted to spend a season working on a grounds crew at a baseball stadium. Universe, let’s make that happen next season.

Narrowed, Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria

Lately I’ve found myself rationalizing situations and justifying decisions with the phrase “this won’t be the worst I’ve ever done / will ever do”. I’m not sure what to think about that.
(Tumblr)

Directions, Sofia, Bulgaria

Directions: like knowledge, over-rated, under-valued.

Snippets from an overnight train ride on the Bosphorus Express from Istanbul, Turkey to Sofia, Bulgaria on my current little jaunt.

Waiting, Istanbul, Turkey

The relief of being on the train segueing into the nervousness of the journey, waiting for the Bosphorus Express to depart Istanbul’s Sirkeci Station, deep in the Golden Horn of Istanbul.

Expectant, Istanbul, Turkey

Sirkeci Station was originally the eastern terminus for the famed Orient Express linking Paris to Istanbul. But those days are over; in 1977 the service was scaled back to a much smaller Vienna to Strasbourg route. The Bosphorus Express, named for the Bosphorus Straits that divides Istanbul’s Europe and Asian sides, offers daily service between Istanbul and Bucharest, Romania, with connections through and to Sofia, Belgrade, Budapest and Chişinău, Moldova.

Quarters, Istanbul, Turkey

One fear, reduced: a well-appointed berth, one of the nicer trains I’ve slept on in the past couple years (and trust me, I’m used to sleeping in many different places)…

Running, Istanbul, Turkey

A journey started, bouncing into the late night darkness of Istanbul, unaware of the jostling cacophony that the night will bring.

What will I remember from the night? The incredible bouncing, causing me to doubt my incredible ability to sleep anywhere, anytime (a misplaced fear, as it turned out); the incessant staccato of metal on metal, ten muddled minutes spent searching for its source, solved with a simple jam of my shoe into a tight spot; forty-five minutes standing in line in the wee hours of the new day waiting for an exit stamp from Turkey (more on that in a bit); followed shortly by the knocks of “passport control” on the train’s sleeping compartment doors, re-awakening the half-asleep inhabitants; the last interruption, the unexpected cries of the “customs control” officer sweeping through the train, a man that looked at me and my compartment mate Oliver and merely asked “English” to each of us, two tired shakes of our heads answering his question in turn, sending him scurrying away without a further word.

Exiting, Kapikule, Turkey

Powerless, Kapikule, Turkey

A singular highlight? A tired, bored Turkish immigration officer, stamping passports at 3 AM in the border town of Kapikule, Turkey; his questions of where I’m going (“Sofia”), where I’m going after that (a pause, “Bucharest”, followed by him repeating it back with the correct pronunciation); he answers his next questions himself with tired rolls of his hands and the names of cities on the rails beyond (“Vienna?” Da. “Berlin?” Da. “And then, Washington, DC?” Da.), both of us acknowledging the beaten path; even if my slightly more ambitions plans stray from his expectations, correcting him at 3 AM serves none of us any good, and off I slunk back to the train and my bunk.

Leaving, Istanbul, Turkey

And in the morning? Awakening to a peaceful trance, content with the hot, brown countryside as my companion, skipping away outside my window, time standing still in my oasis; my unreasonable wish to spend the rest of the day on the train, unfulfilled, as the drop into an unknown foreign city gets closer and closer.