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Written by: Richard Benfield 3/8/2010 6:13:58 PM
On a sweltering, sunny day in late June, I was in a maze of narrow circular streets in the heart of Naples, perhaps the rowdiest, dirtiest, and certainly the most densely populated city in Italy. With a 15 percent unemployment rate and a colorful history of organized crime, it’s also known for petty thievery. (“Watch your wallet,” warned the fatherly bellhop as he stuck his hand in my right front pocket and pretended to remove my billfold. “They steal from you as you walk the streets.”)

But after a lifetime of living and working in American cities – big and small – none of this bothered me much. What was more on my mind was that for the first time in years I was traveling alone. I wondered how I’d like it.

I guess I’ve had the travel bug since as a 5-year-old my parents took me to a family camp in northern Vermont. As we made the drive, I passed the time noting the license plates from far-away states. I wanted to go to all of them. That was 63 years ago, and since then I’ve been to every state but Hawaii. After I met my wife in 1991, we traveled together to more than 15 countries in Europe, Asia, and South America. She died in 2007, and except for visits to family and friends, my traveling stopped.

For several months, though, I’ve been thinking about venturing out again. Friends suggested I take a bus tour through Europe or the United States, but that wasn’t for me. Years ago, I took work-related bus tours through China and Eastern Europe, and I felt as if I was in a cage. But I’m not a loner either, and I wanted to be with people, at least some of the time. So I combined my trip alone with another interest of mine: bicycling. I began my trip with a two-week bicycle tour from north of Bologna to south of Rome. Run by Ciclismo Classico, a bike tour operator specializing in Italy, the trip had eight other cyclists and two Italian guides. I had never met any of them before, but we quickly hit in off.

But now the cycling was finished, and I was on my own – feeling my way in Naples. A tour book touted a pizza place near the main train station as one where the Neapolitans hang out. But even with the book’s directions and the help of a hotel clerk, I couldn’t find it. Pointing to the name of the place in the book, I asked an elderly, stooped-over man in my poor Italian where it was. He beckoned for me to follow him. We walked slowly for 15 minutes down one tiny street after another, and finally he pointed it out. I went in, took a seat at a table with two unsmiling men in black t-shirts, their muscular arms folded tightly in front of them. After five minutes, they grinned and beckoned to a waiter to bring me a pizza. I felt less alone.

* * *

I spent the rest of the afternoon at Naples’ acclaimed archeological museum, which has some 70 percent of the artifacts uncovered from Pompeii. During the evening – a Friday - I walked down Via Pessina and Via Toledo, two of Naples’ narrow main shopping streets that are lined with four and 5-story story buildings painted in arrays of brilliant red, pink, and peach, and then to the waterfront with its panoramic view of Pompeii, Mount Vesuvius, and Sorrento.

By this time, I was tired. I stopped at an outdoor café, ordered a beer and called a friend in the United States. A half hour later, my spirits lifted, I continued my walk and got back to my hotel just after dark.

My remaining five days alone in Italy took on a similar pattern, with their ups and downs. I rose early the next morning, kicked myself into gear, and got out of my cramped, dark hotel room for a brisk walk in the sunlit streets before breakfast. At midmorning, I left the hotel with my small backpack, took a train to Pompeii, and joined one of the many walking tours (price about 10 Euros) that leave from the local train station. Guided day tours are a good way for a solitary traveler to meet people and strike up conversations. I got back to Naples at dusk and had dinner at an outside café where I was placed at a table next to an English-speaking couple from Montreal. (We talked for a half-hour about our stays in Italy). The following morning, I took a quick walk, had breakfast in the hotel where I got talking with a family from Michigan, and took a train to my next city, Rome. I spent my final hours in Florence.

My happiest moments came when I hooked up with people. In Rome, I took two tours with a knowledgeable guide from Canada, who came to Italy as a tourist years ago, stayed and wound up marrying an Italian woman. At the end of the day, he announced that he was having a beer at a café off of the Piazza Navona and I joined him along with an Australian couple from the tour. We stayed long enough – and drank enough beer - that I had trouble finding my way across town to where I was staying.

On another evening, I was seated at an outside table at a small trattoria next to three women from Ireland. We talked late into the night until the waiter was ready to close up and go home. In Florence, I had dinner in a café offering a great view of the famous Duomo and struck up a conversation with an American woman who was studying art and her retired boyfriend with a Texas accent and cowboy hat who came along, he said, just for the fun of it. On my final day, I ran into a single woman from the Bay area of California who told me about her adventures with on-line dating and said I deserved to try it.

But of course there were times when I wished I had company. I wanted to tell someone who cared what I had wished for when I threw a coin into the water at the Trevi Fountain. I wanted to be with someone I knew when I turned a corner one night and suddenly saw St. Peter’s Square all lit up. I didn’t want to be alone in another hotel room..

So, would I advise others my age – I’m 69 - to travel on their own? Assuming they have a sense of adventure and a little independence, the answer is yes. It sure beats sitting at home and thinking about it. But I’d also urge people to mix traveling alone with occasionally joining up with friends or a tour group. The bicycle trip served that purpose for me.

Later this summer, I’m going on another cycling trip – this one with a friend through Michigan. On my way, I’m doing something that for years I’ve tried to interest others in doing, but without any success. I’m stopping at Buffalo, Cleveland and a couple of other so-called rust belt cities just to see what they’re like.

In my case, I guess, a willingness to travel alone has an advantage.

Richard Benfield is a freelance writer. He was formerly an editorial writer for The New York Times and editorial page editor of The (Bergen) Record in New Jersey. He can be reached at rbentraveler@aol.com

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