I was looking out the plane window when I saw them for the first time. Even thousands of feet below, they still looked tall. They stood there, two silver towers, illuminated in the dark of night with a white glow in a sea of orange street lights. It was my first trip all by myself---something I wouldn't have even considered doing just six months ago.
For years, I've been hearing how travelling alone is one of the greatest experiences. It's the ultimate freedom, they say, of going where you want to go and doing what you want to do, whenever you want to do it. I, however, disagreed. It's just lonely. A few years ago, when I was living in Ghana, I couldn't even last a whole weekend by myself. I remember bolting back to Accra in the middle of the night because I couldn't bear spending another night alone.
Part of me, though, realized at some point I would have to learn how to be comfortable travelling solo. I mean, could I really be considered an adventurer if I've never ventured off alone? I'm not sure what changed in me, but, for whatever reason, when I discovered I was sans travel buddy for my summer vacation, I just shrugged and told myself, well I guess it's time.
And so I found myself looking down at the Petronas Towers from the plane, about to land in Kuala Lumpur for the start of my first solo adventure. Just me, myself, and Malaysia.