"danger". a comfortable excuse.

Part of me is re-thinking my decision to visit London and Dublin this year.  I'm not sure if I feel rushed/forced by my own critical expectations, or if I just don't have enough money this year.  Sure, I have enough to purchase a ticket, secure my lodging, and find sustenance.  But I just don't know if I can go it alone.  Flying out of the country alone is one thing.  Fine.  Flying out alone and staying out alone for a full fifteen days is an entirely different thing altogether.  This isn't Mexico we're talking.  Mexico would be a breeze.  I know how to dodge conniving taxi drivers.  I can place an order with ease, even requesting extra cream, or 'no onions, please'.  I can haggle my way to an appropriately-priced wooden letter-opener.  But they speak English in that part of Europe, and that can be a tad more difficult to navigate, conversation-wise.  Deeper things can be said in one's own heart-language and, as a matter of course, deeper things can be heard.  Sometimes this is a messy ordeal.

Another part of me is thinking that I can - wait - should do this.  What does it matter if I don't know how? Experience is the best tutor.  I already have one friend in the area, and who knows who I'll sit next to on the airplane?  And what better way to meet new people than to surround yourself with no one but strangers?  There's no telling what marvelous things await.  Traveling solo in a foreign country?  Why not?

Still...it would be a sad day that took me into a stranger's house, territory of one turned out to be more 'fiend' than 'friend'.  After all, my muscles aren't big enough to ward of would-be pouncers.

...I don't appear vulnerable, do I?

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