Autistic Abroad: The Ups and Downs of Neurodivergent Travel

While this situation may sound daunting, I do travel—a lot. I’ve been to 37 countries and territories, in all, including eight in the past year alone. I have also met other Autistic people abroad, and there are several other world travelers like me out there, all dispelling prejudices and very literally claiming their place in the world.

It is still, however, a world that often feels unfamiliar and even hostile to us. A popular online forum for those on the spectrum is even (aptly) named Wrong Planet. I can very much relate to this idea, as I’ve always felt like a stranger on this earth, wandering among people who speak a language that I don’t understand. I guess you could say I’ve been an expert traveler all my life.

While it is unfair to put all Autistic people in one box, I can safely say that there are a couple characteristics that apply to the vast majority of us—one is that we have “special interests” (or what some might term “obsessions”). These are usually areas of expertise and/or abilities in which we excel (and often have encyclopedic knowledge of) that puts many neurotypicals—those without any kind of neurodivergence or Autism spectrum disorder—to shame.

Since childhood, one of my special interests has been languages and cultures. Starting around age nine or so, I used to sit in my room and peruse a book I had about different people living around the world. I found myself entranced with all the photos in the book, which ranged from Bedouin men wandering in the desert with their camels to Eastern European women wearing babushka headscarves and laughing in a supermarket. I started studying French at age 13, and I purchased language books to teach myself Swedish, Russian, and Dari in my late teens and twenties. In college, I added Latin and Tibetan to my studies.

Another characteristic that applies to most women on the spectrum is our ability to “mask” and become virtual chameleons. When you don’t naturally understand social rules, face bullying and exclusion, offend people without intending to, and get told routinely that you are weird and crazy, you learn that imitating “normal” people and taking on their traits can often help you blend in and camouflage. I developed this ability particularly well with language, becoming a near expert at replicating people’s dialects and their manner of speaking and expression. This helped me hide my weirdness and adapt to the people and environments around me, wherever I was.

These skills and preferences, coupled with my interest in other cultures and an insatiable curiosity, have enabled me to become a great traveler.

In addition, there are other elements of Autism that have made travel work well for me, specifically. The vast majority of Autistic people have specific food preferences, sensitivities, and food-related rituals. Mine include a preference for spicy dishes and a ritual of buying interesting sweet beverages, like specialty coffees or bubble tea, daily. Since these kinds of food items are often abundant in cultures across the globe, I’m never bored and don’t usually have trouble finding things I like.

My inability to work conventional, public-facing, 9-to-5 jobs has even turned out to be a blessing in disguise. After many years, I found that the career I was best suited to was working as a freelance writer and translator—and since this work takes place online, I can work wherever I want.

My first solo trip abroad (when I was 30) was to India—not to a European country, the default recommendation for women traveling alone. It was a magical, incredible, and tough experience, and it cemented my desire to keep traveling and proved my capabilities. I have now been to countries across five continents, and in the last year and a half, have traveled to Estonia, Ukraine, Namibia, Turkey, Sri Lanka, the United Arab Emirates, Canada, and Mexico—where I’m staying as I write this. Each country presented its own, unique challenges as well as its own adventures and happy surprises.

Related: 10 of the Best Solo Travel Destinations for Women

In Estonia, for instance, locals were both friendly and blunt—and bluntness happens to be yet another attribute of Autistic people. This quality, combined with an affordable lifestyle, made this tiny nation the most Autistic- and solo female traveler–friendly place I’ve been to as far as sensory and communication issues go. (It also has the best air quality in the world, and English is the lingua franca.)

In other places, my experiences were more mixed. In Turkey, people were generous and easygoing, and I enjoyed the proximity of the mountains and the sea. But in the city of Antalya, I was the victim of a cunning romance scam; being a solo female traveler, and on the spectrum, made me an ideal target. During my stays in both Namibia and Dubai, I enjoyed memorable adventures (like a helicopter ride over the Namib Desert), but I also saw and experienced—what I perceived to be—disrespect and rudeness. And in some places, I found the mistreatment of animals particularly jarring.

Yet, with each negative experience, there was also always a positive. In Sharjah, in the United Arab Emirates, I met a cab driver who took me into the first mosque I’ve ever been to and showed me how to pray. In Turkey, a woman comforted me on the bus while I was melting down over the aforementioned romance scam. In Sri Lanka I felt I had found paradise—especially when I spent time on the beaches of Mirissa. I delighted in the country’s spicy food, a culture of kindness and helpfulness, and a natural setting that left my nerves and sensory issues at rest.

I’ve also sometimes found that even countries deemed “dangerous” by the US State Department are actually more friendly and hospitable to me than parts of the US are. When you’re a foreigner, people often understand that you aren’t used to the norms of their culture, and they may not get upset if you make social mistakes. This is very helpful for someone like me. Most of the time, I manage to get along easily with people of different cultures, not only because I work to fit in, but also because sometimes non-Western people actually have values and thought patterns that are more similar to mine. And, because I’m a foreigner (Autistic or not), many locals are often curious about me and appreciate the fact that I want to learn about and experience their way of life.

While all of my adventures have been incredibly rewarding, traveling with Autism does, obviously, present some unique problems. For instance, most Autistic people are far more sensitive to things like light, sound, and crowds than neurotypicals. Many countries (including some of the ones I visited this year) are much more populated and noisy—and thus more overstimulating than the US.

Autism also leads to poorer executive functioning. I, specifically, struggle with understanding verbal instructions in any language (despite my good linguistic skills). In much of Turkey and Mexico, it was imperative that I learn at least some phrases just to get around. And in Quebec, the Quebecois dialect was hard to understand (even though I’ve studied French for years), and I often felt frustrated.

In addition, most Autistic people have physical struggles. Some of the big ones are issues with fine motor skills (often resulting in clumsiness), trouble with sleeping, and problems with our guts. My stomach is so sensitive that in some countries I have wound up frequently and even extremely sick—to the point of needing hospitalization.

And if you’re on the spectrum, even non-medical problems can turn into disasters. Autistic meltdowns are no joke. If you’re by yourself when something goes wrong, and there is a language and cultural barrier, and you are without the means to solve it the way you would back home, a situation can suddenly feel like the end of the world. I’ve had panic attacks and broken down crying in public. Sometimes I have had to spend a whole day or more resting in a hostel or Airbnb, away from society.

While anyone who travels can sometimes experience all of these problems, and worse, having difficulties with executive function and lacking the emotional control of a neurotypical means the situation might not get resolved as easily as it otherwise could. I’ve had incidents where I’ve been stranded without money or food. I’ve lost debit cards and bags of clothing, and I’ve been stranded and scammed numerous times. As a woman, I have also been on the receiving end of scary sexual harassment. (Autistic women are particularly vulnerable.)

At the same time, I know I am very lucky—and I feel grateful to have the opportunity to travel. My family has been helpful and encouraging. I realize I am privileged in the fact that my native tongue, English, is spoken almost anywhere, and that I have socioeconomic advantages over many of the women I meet across the globe.

Looking back, many of the challenges I have faced actually turned out to be adventures in disguise. These challenges showed me what I was capable of, despite my limitations, and they have made me into an unbreakable globetrotter who smashes the barriers and stereotypes facing women on the spectrum. Fear not, the world is not as harsh as it seems—and if I can do this, many other people can, too.

Related: 8 Tips for Traveling Solo as a Woman (From Women Who've Done It)