Edit Desk: Embracing a table for one

During the spring semester of my junior year, I studied abroad in Florence, Italy. While I was very excited, I was also nervous, like any other student would be. 

I’ve traveled before, but this was my first time traveling alone and my first time going to Europe. 

In the weeks leading up to my flight I made countless lists of everything I needed to do. Packing list, toiletries list, snack list, Amazon order list, jewelry-to-leave-at-home list. 

If there was anything you could remotely think about doing before traveling abroad for four months, I promise it had its own list. 

And while I was prepared in every practical aspect, some things you can’t prepare for. Train delays, getting scammed by ATMs (my friend learned this the hard way), ordering a cappuccino past 12 p.m. in a cafe (I learned this one the hard way), and losing your phone (shoutout to the kind couple who found and returned it to me and Ruth’s Kosher for letting me use your computer to track it). 

But what I wasn’t prepared for turned out to be one of my fondest memories — dining alone. I know it seems odd that in a city full of my school friends, home friends, camp friends and new friends I’d want to go out by myself, but for some reason I did. And though it may sound cliche, it changed me for the better. 

On one of my first Sundays in Florence, I decided to take myself to dinner. 

I traveled abroad through Syracuse University and lived in a hotel turned dorm they offered. My roommate and I didn’t know this before being assigned the room, but it was far outside the city center. 

Florence is a very small city, but we lived about a 40 minute walk away from where everyone else was. Our housing was located in a more residential area, and stores tended to close early. 

So with no plan and no GPS to navigate, I walked around to explore and familiarize myself with the area. I put on my favorite jeans, my white sneakers, a blue sweater, my big fluffy jacket and my crossbody bag. I packed my portable charger, chapstick, wallet and kindle, and ventured off. 

About five minutes later, I found a sushi restaurant and decided to go inside. I nervously went up to the cashier and asked for a table for one. Thankfully my four years of Italian in high school helped me, as the server didn’t speak much English. 

She brought me to my table, and I sat down. I looked around, trying to gauge the vibes of the restaurant — Hokkaido Sushi. 

It was well lit. Tables were starting to fill but weren’t overwhelmingly crowded. A few people were on dates, others were with their kids and families. But nobody in that restaurant was sitting alone except for me. 

For a second, I felt myself getting anxious. I wanted to get up and walk back home, order takeout and call it a night, but I didn’t. Something in me kept my feet planted. Something told me that this would be good for me. 

I’m someone who loves my alone time. My friends and family know this. I like being alone not in an antisocial way, but more that I just like time to myself. Whether it’s napping or sitting in my room scrolling on my phone, every day I need my alone time. My time to recharge my social battery. 

With this being said, eating alone in front of other people isn’t something I thought I’d like. I was nervous how I’d be perceived. I worried people would think I have no friends, or someone would judge the amount of food I was ordering. It might sound inconspicuous, but in my mind, it seemed like a big deal. 

I ordered Coke Zero with a lemon, miso soup and a couple of sushi rolls. As I waited for my food, I read my book, eavesdropped on other tables conversations and let myself be present. I turned my phone on Do Not Disturb, and for that hour, I was just there. 

The sushi was good, but that wasn’t what mattered. I left dinner feeling mature and independent. In the best way possible, I felt like a real adult. 

On my walk home I smiled to myself, already excited for my next Sunday adventure and wondering where I might take myself next. 

This started my tradition of Sunday excursions. I found myself looking forward to my alone time during the week.

After a while, it wasn’t only Sundays. I started going places alone throughout the week. I still got nervous about the possible stares or looks, but as time went on, I didn’t really care. I was content, and sometimes, that’s all that matters.

When I got home from Florence, I knew this solo dinner tradition was something I’d take with me. While staying at my aunt’s apartment in New York City this summer, I took myself out for dinner, ice cream, coffee runs and more.

I wandered aimlessly with no plan in mind. I tried so many new places and learned so much about myself. 

I learned that being alone is a great skill to have. I learned that my anxieties are sometimes just in my head, and that nobody is whispering about me. 

So to anyone who may be going abroad or living in a new city, try taking yourself out to dinner. It might just be something you learn to love.