English
The advantages of traveling alone start in the very decision of the tour itinerary, true, it is quite possible that you never really decide anything, just as it is also hard to determine when the trip begins and ends, but men also live of illusions and when we travel without company it is nice to not be forced to compromise with anybody or destination or route.
When traveling alone, we have the freedom to choose the content and form of our luggage, a matter of eternal disputes, not always well resolved, which may form future discord that suddenly explode like a bomb, at some point of the trip, after they have been nesting in an invisible but too sensible place of our suitcase.
No only in terms of destination, route and luggage, also while traveling alone, we feel that our own memories belong to ourselves. Well, few things can be more frustrating, when remembering a past anecdote with our companion, that when we find that they remember something so very different. It is clear that at least one of those who remember must be mistaken, but often our belief that the other person is wrong is so strong that we can lose respect. When traveling alone you remember what you want when you want (because travel company also could force us to remember things that we do not want to remember in moments of sudden conspicuously) and may forget if so inclined that the memory is not only a particularly active part of our imagination, precisely because no one keeps you out of imagine at all.
And as the route and itinerary are our own, we can change them according to our impulses as well as change and the stimuli that we receive from outside, which need not be restated or agreed with any other person and can be delivered to chance or fate without resistance.
This applies to every little detail, the slightest incident or gesture, especially with regard to get to know the attractive and equally disturbing kindness of strangers, to make contact with new people and indulge in the illusion that may change our lives. Well, perhaps the most fascinating of these new people, of those strangers could suddenly become part of our life, is ourselves deployed in the plurality of beings that we all inhabit, that identity federation, that Tabucchi was talking about Lisboeta Pessoa and his growing heteronym to a point no one ever has arrived.
A point that perhaps is only achievable by renting apartments in Lisbon where traveling alone is to get to know oneself and oneself through the plurality of the world, always the same and always different as the sea with incomparable beauty and looks of melancholy.
