what i’ve learned while traveling solo

Over the last few years, I’ve really perfected my selfie. I’ve traveled solo to four countries and met up with friends for a portion of trips in five other countries. I’ve eaten at more restaurants than I care to admit, alone. Gone for a night out, alone. Hiked, alone. Joined groups of people for a tour, alone. I’ve been in some romantic places, all alone. Hell, I took a cruise by myself in 2015. People later told me that they didn’t know who I was, a single, rich girl out on an adventure? (Nothing so extravagant: I worked for the cruise line and was on a benefit trip.)

Sometimes, it can be overwhelming: I’ve been the fifth wheel, odd man out, and an extra person. When people pair off, I walk alone. Sometimes, it can be daunting. Girls sitting alone at bars attract all sorts of strange looks and people. And sometimes, all I want is to crawl up in my bed for a day. When I got into Reykjavik from the Blue Lagoon, after traveling from Boston the night before, I had no desire to wander the city in search of friends.

Many people travel with buddies – and I’m obviously no exception, I’ve done the same. But I’ve also traveled a lot on my own. It can be a lack of people wanting to go or a lack of people that can go. I asked ten different people if they wanted to take the cruise with me. It was very last minute and expensive for everyone to fly over. I was already in Scotland, so it made no difference to me. (Plus, polar bears. Come on.) No one could feasibly take the time off work at such a last minute to go on an expedition with me.

Traveling solo gave me the opportunity to learn about myself in ways I could never have imagined if I’d continued to travel with friends.

I learned that I don’t always have to follow the party crowd to have a good time: sometimes, a glass of scotch at the local bar and my journal was my “night out.” And I am totally okay with that. I learned that I have more guts than I ever knew: I skydived on a solo trip, and I hiked my first mountain alone. An eight hour hike, in questionable spring weather. And I LOVED it. I stood on that mountaintop by myself – no one else in sight – and drank in the fresh air and the views across New Zealand’s Southern Alps.

What many people don’t know about me is that I suffer from serious anxiety and depression. For my entire last year of living in Kansas City, prior to leaving to work on the boat, I saw a therapist and I was on mind-numbing anti-depressants. My (now-ex) boyfriend insisted. If you had told me four years ago that I would be on my way to New Zealand, I’dve laughed in your face. I was mentally drained. I worked three jobs, and I could barely work up the energy to go to any of them. My boyfriend and I fought constantly. I felt alone, fat, and ugly. Making friends with coworkers was so daunting that I shut down completely. So I left.

I flew to Istanbul for my friend’s wedding, where I didn’t take my pills and wandered alone through the city anonymously watching the world around me. Then two weeks later, I went to Alaska with my extended family. That was an… adventure… in itself and maybe someday I will talk about it. But on that trip – a cruise with my future company – I saw what my future could be. I could work on a boat. I could travel the world. So, I applied, I was accepted and I left. For good.

In these last few years, I have learned that I’m strong and independent. I can navigate any metro system you throw me into, even in countries that don’t speak English. I can order a meal (or a drink) in six different languages. I can read a map like a pro. I can pack a backpack for a year. I can – gasp!- make friends in foreign countries. I can meet a guy and travel with him.

But beyond those life skills I realised I had, I’ve also learned a lot about myself as a human. I can sense when I start to feel anxious and/or panicky, and I’ll immediately leave the situation or go about making myself more comfortable. Airports are the worst for me. The crowds, the lack of common sense, slow walkers… you name it, it will probably irritate me in an airport. So, when I feel myself start to tense up or shake, I know I’ve reached my limit. I learned that I come across pretty bitchy to a lot of people, so this is something I recognise and work hard to curtail in meeting new people. But, I also found out that I’m a pretty sympathetic person. Children and animals bring out this quality in me. (Unless they’re horribly obnoxious, in which case see the second statement in this paragraph.)

I discovered that while the word “awkward” is peripherally in my vocabulary, the word “embarrassed” is not there at all. I chalk it up to inexperience in a certain place, and I move on. Someone asked me one time about my most embarrassing story, and while I’m sure I have stories that could be deemed “embarrassing,” I couldn’t come up with one.

I also learned more about what makes me uncomfortable, and I’m not talking about how cramped it is on an airplane. As a solo female traveler, I’ve been taught to always be aware of my surroundings. To never allow someone to buy me a drink. To store money in tampon boxes/chapstick tubes. To carry a knife/mace. And I give that same advice. Always tell someone where you are going and when you expect to be back. Never walk alone at night.

But I find that I – along with many other solo female travelers out there – am actually a pretty good judge of what makes me uncomfortable, and it may not be what makes the next girl uncomfortable. So rather than blindly follow the advice of hundreds of other female travelers, I’ve learned to trust my gut. If I’m walking alone at night, I call my brother. If I’m in a bar and someone wants to buy me a drink, I order it myself and watch the bartender make it. I don’t carry a knife, but one time I was kicked out of my high school hockey game for hitting a guy in the face, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. I can shut down, make myself completely unapproachable, and I’m not afraid to scream at someone.

I’ve learned that while I wish I was fearless, I’m not. I loved the thrill of skydiving, but the concept of throwing myself off of the Auckland Harbour bridge scares the bejeezus out of me. Hiking that mountain alone took every ounce of fearless in me. Likewise, trekking through the Alaskan rainforest to see a fifty-year-old plane crash.

Solo travel can be the most rewarding way to travel. If no one is there to help you, you are forced to be resourceful in ways that you might never have known. I’m not the sort of person to sit around and wait for someone to come along and rescue me; I’d rather go out and meet that person while having adventures around the world. Traveling alone is daunting, for people who have never done it. It’s hard work. It can be scary. But I can promise you that you will discover things about yourself and in doing so, transform yourself into a better person. The people I meet along the way give my adventures some life, but it’s me who makes my life sparkle.

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