Long-term solo travel, it goes without saying, can be an incredibly rewarding and enriching experience. But it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. There can also be times of depression and loneliness, when the siren song of home comes calling, and you think to yourself, “What the hell am I doing here?” And nothing on the road causes greater feelings of fear and isolation than the frightening prospect of eating at a restaurant alone.

Before my first solo trip, dining alone seemed to me only slightly less depressing than bowling alone (which I still find unspeakably saddening). I had always imagined that those who sat by themselves at restaurants suffered from some profound personality defect. What other possible explanation could there be for their solitude? But after traveling on my own for a few weeks, I became more comfortable with the prospect of sitting at a restaurant by myself, and I eventually saw it as something to be enjoyed rather than simply endured.

It may sound silly, but being able to dine alone is an important skill to have when on the road. Here are some tips to overcome the awkwardness of dining alone: (more here)

• Bring some reading materials to occupy your time whenever you’re faced with a table for one. This gives you something to do, and at the same time it makes you appear interesting and bookish. (To appear whimsical, try a pop-up book.)
• Chat up your waitress, asking for her recommendations on what to see and do. And when ordering, try to avoid simply pointing at the menu. People are usually appreciative when you make an attempt at speaking their language, even if you end up hacking it to pieces.
• Take out your diary (or “journal” for guys) and do a little reflecting about your trip.
• If you see someone else sitting by themselves, don’t be afraid to strike up a dialogue. Strangers don’t bite, and they’ll probably be just as happy as you are to have a conversation.

And most importantly, next time you’re face-to-face with the breadsticks and feeling lonely, remember how Philip Roth describes one of the main characters in his novel Letting Go:

“Though subject to his share of depressions, nightmares, and melancholy, he cannot enjoy any of it thoroughly, (and thereby feel his true and tragic worth) because of a nagging doubt that he is very lucky and ought to be thankful and shut up.”

Be thankful. You’re on the road, and you’ll be home soon enough.