Lady Vagabond is a thoughtful and adventurous memoir of solo travel, professional discovery, and personal transformation. Was the trip initially driven more by personal reinvention, professional curiosity, or the desire to test yourself?

My trip was more driven by a desire to test myself. Initially, I sought the adventure of pursuing my travel dreams. I also understood I was unprepared for many of the roles in a man’s world. Solo travel seemed to be a way to test myself and become more worldly in the process. At age 31, with a doctorate degree, I thought I was already grown up. Before long, however, I discovered I had much more to learn.

What did traveling alone allow you to experience that you might have missed with a companion?

With a companion, we are more likely to talk to each other instead of engaging with other travelers or local people. I’m not a particularly gregarious person, but I enjoy a one-on-one conversation with a willing seatmate on a bus or train. As a solo traveler, I could also be more flexible about taking opportunities that came my way and others may have been more likely to invite me on those, including to come into their homes.

Then I found something more interesting came from my encounters. They often challenged my thinking—on my politics, my professional goals, my world view. This wasn’t a bad thing. As a result, I learned to clarify my beliefs and values. I learned to respect others’ world views and recognize my own. My personal identity became clearer.

Which community or host family most changed your understanding of everyday life in another part of the world?

The South Pacific cultural world view of collectivism, where the value of family supersedes the individual, became an immediate contrast with the American individualism I had taken for granted. This discovery came with my first contacts in American Samoa and again in (Western) Samoa and Figi. The same values are common in most of Asia. In fact, I found American individualism to be more the exception. These cultures also emphasized living in the present and this value carried into New Zealand and Australia, with their “she’ll be right” philosophy. The culture conflicts I witnessed made the contrasting world views even clearer to see. These discoveries turned my driven achievement mindset on its head. And eventually, I developed more flexibility about being the master of my fate versus living in the moment and trusting myself in chance.

Your memoir ultimately replaces a rigid ideal of self-reliance with a more flexible understanding of human capability. Why was that realization important enough to become the heart of the book?

That’s right. First, I came to appreciate that when I confronted problems, and if I asked for help, that help came to me. Not only did I not have to figure things out alone, my new friends led me to better opportunities than I could have imagined. For example, my quest to get into Australia’s interior on my tight budget was taken up by a string of friends and friends of friends. Everyone putting their collective heads together produced a creative solution, with my ride on the truck and learning about the Outback world view. I also found a helpful community among the network of fellow travelers. Not everyone was helpful, but persistence often pays off, help comes. That process became reinforced with my professional queries, as it got me into places I never would have seen as a tourist, like the health center in the Aboriginal community and in Papua New Guinea. I found collaboration and multi-disciplinary teamwork in some community health settings and that gave me inspiration for my future roles.

It may seem contradictory that I advocate for the advantages of solo travel while I also challenge the ideal of self-reliance. Sometimes we have to draw on self-reliance skills and it’s good to feel comfortable in our own company when we’re alone. But here’s where the connections come in, as I mentioned earlier. On several occasions I sought a companion to feel safe—in Papua New Guinea, in most cities after dark, and trekking in Nepal–until I got left behind. I got off the mountain pass by myself, with one careful step after another, but I would have been safer with a companion in case I might trip and fall. Asking for help isn’t a weakness. We need to think more critically about our one-size-fits-all dictums. Neither approach fits every situation.  

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