It gets lonely sometimes.
The first time I went away knowing more or less nobody was when I was 16. I went to Cork, Ireland, for a month to improve my English skills.
The second time I traveled alone was two years ago when I went to Buenos Aires, Argentina, for an internship.
If the first time everything was safe and cozy, the second time was a real adventure: I didn´t speak Spanish and I didn´t have a room/hotel/bridge to go to. But it was ok, I managed to solve all the problems, met incredible people and had the time of my life.
This time is my third time going completely solo, and it´s hard. I know that it will sound sad, but I can´t find friends or people to talk to here. I am seen as the foreigner and that´s it. Plus this is a tiny village, meaning that the people of my age went away leaving behind children, middle-aged people, a lot of grandmas, grandpas and quite a few donkeys.
The problem is that I am a herd animal and I need other people to talk to, that´s why being here is so hard. What to do? Well, I walk. At first I didn´t like walking here because of the weird random encounters, but finally I understood that it was the only thing cheering me up.
So that´s what I do: I walk around, I observe, I absorb what´s around me and (yes) I hope that time will fly quickly.
Traveling solo, or living solo abroad, might get hard and unpleasant, but there always is one tiny little thing that keeps us going.