Travel is at its best a solitary activity: to examine, to assess, you have to be alone and undisturbed.Other people can mislead you; they crowd your impressions with their own; if they are companionable they obstruct your view, and if they are boring they break the silence and shatter your concentration with “oh, look, it’s raining”, and “you see a lot of trees here.” It is hard to see clearly or to think straight in the company of other people.The perceptions that are necessary to writing are difficult to manage when someone close by is thinking out loud.I am diverted, but it is discovery, not diversion, that I seek.Travel is not a vacation, and it is often the opposite of a rest.“Have a nice time,” people often say to me at my send-off.It is not precisely what I have hoped for.I have a strong desire for a little risk, some danger, an unfortunate event, a vivid discomfort, an experience of my own company, and in a modest way the romance of solitude.This I think might be mine on the train to where I plan to go.

　　However, traveling on your own can be terribly lonely, and it is usually not understood by Japanese who, coming across you smiling, tend to say things like “Where is the rest of your team?” I think of evening in the hotel room in the strange city.My diary has been brought up to date; I long for company; What do I do? I don’t know anyone here, so I go out and walk and discover the streets of the town and rather envy the strolling couples and people with children.The museums and churches are closed, and toward midnight the streets “I are empty.If I am robbed I will have to apologize as politely as possible: am sorry, but I have nothing valuable on my person.”
The writer regards his friends’ farewell to him as _____.

A.unnecessary

B.inappropriate

C.thoughtful

D.ridiculous