I don’t read World Hum quite enough–there’s always some good take on travel there.

The most recent good thing is this essay by Sophia Dembling, Confessions of an Introverted Traveler.

So true, sister! I struggle with the extroversion/introversion thing all the time. I love the idea of throwing parties (and getting all ready for them), but in practice I really prefer to stay home at least five nights out of seven.

When I travel, I do get a little more lively, but not much. Flipping through guidebooks, I get excited at the sight of various bars and clubs and events, but what it all boils down to, usually, is sitting in a cafe and watching the world go by.

The only real problem with being a relatively introverted traveler, I’ve found, is that it puts you on the defensive, rather than the offensive. Because I’m not busy chatting up the most interesting-looking person in a bar, I’m a sitting duck for anyone who decides I look intriguing. I have met some great people this way, but it often leaves me smiling gamely at someone for a long stretch (I am terrible at extricating myself), and then dashing off to my hotel for a much-needed rest.

And, alas, I’ve just never been one of those people who has fabulous international romances. It sounds like such a great idea, and surely would help my foreign-language skills, but I just can’t do it. The one time I did try it (he made the first move, of course), it did not pan out well at all. No, reader, I did not kill him, as he chattered on in the passenger seat.

So you might wonder how I handle being a guidebook author? It involves traveling alone, for the most part, and getting information from people. I admit, my books are not packed with the collected wisdom of everyone I met in the hostel that night. But the very fact of having the job does make me a little more outgoing–I’m on a mission. I remember talking about this with another Lonely Planet writer at an author workshop years ago. “I’m not normally nosy,” she said. “At home, I’d never walk up to a crowd of people on the street and ask them what they’re all looking at, or standing in line for, or whatever. But when I’m on the road, it’s like I’m a different person. It’s my job to go up and find out what’s so interesting.”

I can’t say I feel quite so transformed on the road, but sheer boredom on trips can drive me to chat with people I wouldn’t ordinarily, and that often gives me some great information I wouldn’t have found any other way. And it reminds me that I don’t actually dislike talking to strangers–I just don’t want to do it more than maybe an hour a day.

Anyway, thanks for writing this, Sophia.

Oh, and for sharing this wisdom in the comments:

To digress, one of the first rules my father taught me about flea marketing was, “Never buy anything from anyone wearing a funny hat.” He believed that if they need that much attention, their prices would be inflated.

Oh, and the recommendation of the book Introvert Power. I feel better already, just having put the title on my request list at the library. (Bookstore: too much of a social space.)