I’ll never forget the day I packed a suitcase full of winter woollies and told my parents “buh-bye” as I boarded a plane to Iceland, alone, muttering that if I had to wait for anyone, I’d never go anywhere. In hindsight, I’m positive that I would’ve had a more memorable voyage to the land of ice and fire had my friend also purchased her plane ticket, but it was my first time travelling solo, and it was the most thrilling thing I’d ever done.
I’m reminded of this exchange now as I plan my first post-pandemic trip. From the beginning, I’ve been planning to go alone. I haven’t even considered inviting anyone. Deep down, I know that I’m looking back on my own experiences through rose-coloured glasses. I’ve forgotten about the uncertainty I had on that first solo trip and my vision has been clouded with subsequent memories that will last me a lifetime. Here’s the truth that no one will ever tell you about travelling on your own.
There’s a very real possibility you’ll be lonely
Hello! I might as well have a blinking neon sign on my forehead that reads introvert. I like doing my own thing and I especially like to get to be left alone when I’m experiencing jet lag, but my mother will tell me from 5,000 km away to go to a nightclub for god’s sake so she can experience the Reykjavík drag scene vicariously. No one will tell you that solo travel can be incredibly lonely when really, there’s no reason it should be. It’s never been easier to meet other people than when you’re alone in a foreign destination, I swear.
I went to Australia with three things in mind—a job, a sponsor, and one day, permanent residence. I spent the entire summer leading up to my departure working my day job in marketing and waiting tables by night to save up for my first few months down under, all while growing closer to the boy next door. I’d grown up with him, and somehow he’d escaped my notice all those years. The day before I was supposed to fly out, he confessed his feelings for me, and I boarded that plane feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt because it was too late to turn around and I had no idea when I’d be back. “End of next year,” I had mused earlier that summer. Now I wasn’t so sure.
Getting out of your comfort zone is the best thing you can do for yourself
I felt so lost and alone that first month. I had a work permit, but I couldn’t bring myself to apply for any jobs because doing so felt like closing the door on the possibility of going home. Eventually, I settled on a return date three months later (it felt like eons) and committed to exploring my new country in that span of time. I started by signing up for a camping trip in Kakadu National Park, and that was only the beginning. Once I got into my groove, those three months became a blur and by the time Christmas rolled around, I was not ready to go home.
I had the time of my life on the road. I’ve sustained myself this entire pandemic on memories of camping in the searing hot outback and finding red-eyed tree frogs in the loo, diving off a catamaran moored at a beach with crystal clear water and fine white silica for sand, searching the shallows for reef sharks with my cousin, sailing the Northern Beaches with dolphins and trekking through the crater of a volcano in New Zealand with seven other girls who became fast friends.
Get ready for a self-confidence boost
There’s very little you can do to put your loved ones’ minds at ease when you head off on your own, especially if you’re a woman. You can leave them a copy of your trip details and check in with them periodically on the road, but the best way to reassure them of your safety is to come back a more worldly, confident version of yourself. Solo travel forces you to make decisions. You’ll get out of tight spots on your own, learn how to take smart risks, and especially how to be comfortable in your own skin. Spend enough time on your own, and these things will become second nature to you.