Loneliness and Letters
Wednesday, January 14th, 2009Two days ago I had my first ever experience doing a video Skype chat with a friend who’s on the road and trail trekking for a Lonely Planet guidebook. We got to catch on up some personal news, rather than the quips about writing and travel we usually exchange over email, and it was something awfully cool to see her face and have her wave to my son from Patagonia.
The experience left me feeling a little sad, though. As always happens with technological advances, no matter how welcome, something is lost.
I was unavoidably reminded of when I’d first moved overseas and not only had no access to email, but was too poor to make regular phone calls to family and friends. I lived on letters. Over a slowly sipped coffee at one of Vienna’s lovely old coffeehouses, I’d write about my daily life in this foreign place, my German lessons, my two illegal jobs, the people I met, the grumpy lady who ran the deli counter across the road from our apartment, the movement and conversations of patrons and waiters in the cafe …
I’ve always been a letter writer. No matter how many emails I write now, nothing trumps the pleasure I get from running an actual pen over an actual piece of paper. It used to make my day to write one of my sisters a thin one-page Aerogramme (alas, no longer available). And I love receiving them. After Skyping with my friend, I went and rummaged through a trunk of old possessions, finally pulling out the shoebox packed with letters from many friends, received in several different countries over the years. Seeing the handwriting and ripped-open envelopes was like greeting those friends all over again.
It also reminded me of the loneliness I felt, in a foreign country with a new husband. It was a comforting sort of loneliness, a feeling introverts are familiar with, the chance to get reacquainted with yourself. And, with being able to email and chat with family no matter where I’m traveling, it’s a loneliness I haven’t accessed in a long time. We are all expected to keep in touch.
There’s something that gets lost in the travel experience when you can’t feel a little loneliness. It’s a chance to absorb the place you’re in, and to investigate your own internal landscape, as Pico Iyer calls it. Keeping in constant contact with loved ones prevents us from accessing that space. Letter writing, on the other hand, allows us to muse over our investigations of the world both outside and inside, without hurry and without deletion. We can follow our thoughts where they take us.




