THELONERANGER

TRAVELLING ALONE IS ONE OF THE SCARIEST, MOST LIFE AFFIRMING THINGS YOU CAN DO. SARAH GARDEN TELLS US WHY A CERTAIN SONG HAS ACCOMPANIED HER AROUND THE WORLD

Noel Gallagher wrote Live Forever about the invincibility of youth. It was a retort to the macabre grunge that dominated the charts at the time. With American groups like Nirvana singing about wanting to die, he reasoned that there was everything to live for.

I was on a train from Italy to Spain, on the brink of my twenties, playing the song on repeat and thinking of all the excitement that lay ahead – new cities, university, and the unknown. I was travelling with two friends on EuroRail and, being as there were three of us, someone was often left sitting alone. On this particular night train, it was my turn. I’ll never forget the look of jealousy on my travel companions’ faces when they peered across the carriage to see a handsome student had boarded the train in Nice, and was sitting beside me.

This was the first time I became acquainted with the great unknown that comes with having an empty seat by your side. Travelling with friends, we had constant conversations, in-jokes, games of cards, and no real need to meet new people. I remember staring out of the window with the Gallagher brothers’ heavily accented voices ringing in my ears, a striking Frenchman by my side, and vowing to do some exploring on my own.

When I eventually started doing solo trips, the thing that surprised me most was the lack of time alone. I only managed to eat without going through the same questions (“Where are you from?”/ “Where are you going?”) when I ordered room service or made a point of burying myself in a large book. It’s charming, really, how friendly the world is when you break out of your comfort zone. Whether it’s a Vietnamese waiter who lingers longer than usual to enquire about your day, or the kind group in Bali that see you propped at the bar who ask if you’d like to join them.

I met a poet who gave up a high-powered job in engineering to write children’s books, a guy who swore he’d been accepted into a pack of wild dogs in Laos, students with dreadlocks who got evangelical about “having a real experience,” and others who I connected with so quickly and firmly that we’re still friends now. All of them had something in common – they were ready to seize the day.

But I relished those rare occasions when I was all by myself, sitting on a plane or watching the sun cast light across a city I was yet to explore. In those moments I’d lose myself in an Oasis album, and think of the places and memories evoked by each song. I can’t count how many many times I played Live Forever, remembering the promise of independence that I made myself all those years before.

Gallagher told NME that he wrote the track before Oasis found fame, when he was working on a building site. Annoyed with megastars complaining about notoriety and fortune, he said although he had nothing, “I still thought getting up in the morning was the greatest thing ever.” From the rail tracks of Europe to the rural regions of South East Asia and the glamour of Dubai, that melody of fearless optimism is the only thing I’ve ever needed to take with me. ■