Most people will never travel alone. They will wait for the right partner, the right friends, the right moment. Aaand they wait for the eternity, or even worse, until they get old and lose interest in travel completely. Or when they just won’t have that chance anymore, maybe because they will have a family or travel become unbearably expensive. Most of the people I know fell into this, lost the chance to see the world. I strongly suggest to do not make the same mistake.
My first solo trip was not some romantic Eat, Pray, Love awakening. It was right after the pandemic and a breakup. I was tired of the same streets, the same conversations, the same version of myself. I wanted movement and change, not meaning. Meaning came anyway.
So how did it started?
After a breakup in 2021, and honestly, I have no idea which fucked-up phase of the pandemic the world was in, everything felt paused. Life was stagnant, the streets felt empty, and I was stuck inside my own head. I needed to move. I needed chaos. I needed something that reminded me I was alive. So I did the only thing that made sense at the time. I booked a ticket to Istanbul, without a plan, without expectations, and definitely without anyone to hold my hand.
And I had a blast.
The city hit me immediately. The streets were alive, smells and sounds everywhere. I wandered for hours through markets, sampled foods I couldn’t even pronounce, and watched the Bosphorus glow at sunset. There was no schedule but my own, no compromise, no waiting for someone else’s energy to match mine. I was free in a way I hadn’t been in years. That trip was not a retreat or a carefully curated Instagram moment. It was messy, unpredictable, and exactly what I needed. And from that chaos, I realized something: travelling solo is not about escaping life, it’s about confronting it on your terms.
Why solo?
Solo travel is the fastest way to strip away excuses. No one else’s schedule, no one else’s opinions, no one else’s comfort to accommodate. You can sit in Arequipa for hours just people-watching, you can hike twenty kilometers in Ala Archa until your legs scream, you can wander the streets of Varanasi without fear or hesitation. Everything is yours to choose, and every choice shapes the trip.
It forces you to confront yourself. There is no one to distract you from your thoughts, no one to soften the mistakes, no one to blame when things go wrong. You own your decisions, your triumphs, and your failures. That kind of clarity is addictive.
It’s not always fun. You will eat alone, get lost, feel lonely. And that’s the point. You get comfortable with being yourself, with silence, with boredom, something most people never learn to handle. Most are terrified of just sitting with themselves, of confronting the emptiness, and that fear keeps them from really seeing the world or themselves. Solo travel forces you to face it anyway: you see the world sharper, and you see yourself clearer. Sadly, most of the people I know are not even close to this.
No one to blame, but yourself
One of the hardest but most liberating lessons of solo travel is this: there is no one else to blame. Missed your train? That’s on you. Got lost in a labyrinth of streets? Yours to figure out. Ordered something unpronounceable and regretted it immediately? Welcome to the club.
At first, it’s unnerving. We are so used to sharing responsibility, hedging decisions, or deflecting blame. Suddenly, every choice falls squarely on your shoulders. No one else’s schedule dictates where you go, no one else’s energy limits what you do, and no one else can fix your mistakes. That sense of absolute ownership can feel terrifying, but it is also exhilarating. It teaches you responsibility in a way no office, school, or relationship ever could. You learn to trust your instincts, make decisions quickly, and live with the consequences. You start to understand your limits and your potential, and you begin to thrive in the freedom that comes from owning your life completely.
And the beauty of it? You also get to celebrate every victory on your own terms. Every perfect sunset you catch, every meaningful conversation with a stranger, every hike completed, every street perfectly navigated: you own it entirely. There is no dilution, no compromise, no second-guessing. That kind of clarity is addictive.
Most people avoid solo travel because they are afraid of this responsibility. They fear being alone with themselves, being forced to make decisions with no one else to lean on, and honestly, some will never be able to handle it. Their lives are too comfortable, too safe, too full of excuses, too weighed down by mediocrity. For them, the freedom of solo travel is terrifying, and that’s their choice, but it’s also their loss.
Shout out to everyone who took the leap and succeeded after we talked about this.
You experience more
When you are not talking to a travel companion, you notice the sound of the street, the way someone pours tea, the smell drifting from a bakery: you see the details instead of rushing past them. And people see you differently too, they approach you more. Conversations happen, invitations appear. You start to feel part of a place rather than just a visitor in it.
In Varanasi, an Indian sister and brother spotted me wandering aimlessly and decided to show me their favorite corners of the city. They guided me through hidden alleys, shared local snacks, and told stories that no guidebook could ever capture. In Kyrgyzstan, a family welcomed me into their home for a family event, insisting I join even though I was a complete stranger. I ate, laughed, and danced alongside them, and for a few hours, I wasn’t a tourist, I was part of their world. And in Lima, a girl I met at a café insisted on taking me to her favourite sushi spot, showing me local flavors I would have never discovered on my own. To be honest, I had no idea of the ceviche-sushi, but oh my god..
These encounters are the magic of solo travel. When you are on your own, the world feels like it opens its doors, offering you stories, experiences, and connections that never happen when you’re tucked behind the safety of a familiar companion.
It strips away the performance aspect
With no one watching, you stop performing. You are not “the funny one,” “the planner,” “the overachiever,” or “the skeptic”, all those stupid roles that friend groups assign and accept without question. You can change your mind without explanation, you can be quiet without apology or you can do something completely out of character just because it feels right in the moment.
In groups, we unconsciously perform to fit roles. Maybe you’re the one everyone relies on to make plans, or the one who always cracks jokes to ease tension, or maybe you’re the voice of reason, the adventurous one, the worrier, or the skeptic. Each role cages you, shaping your choices, your reactions, your presence. Solo travel shreds those scripts, suddenly, you are just you: you wander streets that look interesting, eat weird meals in silence, strike up conversations with strangers, and change your mind five times in a day. There is no group expectation to manage, no silent pressure to perform, no one to judge your curiosity, your mistakes, or your boredom. You are raw, unfiltered, and alive in a way that is impossible when constantly playing a part for others.
If you only live through your friends, constantly relying on them to decide, validate, or entertain you, solo travel will brutalize you. You’ll hate it because it exposes how weakly you’ve been living. That’s a life for those who can’t stand being themselves, tethered to other people, forever performing, never actually existing.
The truth nobody will tell you
Solo travel is not always fun. You will eat meals alone, you will get things wrong, you will feel lost, frustrated, or unbearably lonely. You will stare at a wall of boredom and think, what the hell am I even doing here? And here’s the thing: so what? Those moments are part of the trip, the raw material of growth. You get comfortable with your own company, you stop filling silence for the sake of it, you stop performing, even in front of yourself. And somewhere in that uncomfortable space, you discover who you actually are.
Most people will never get it. They scroll past your Instagram stories, like your photos, and never give a thought to what you went through to get there. They haven’t traveled alone, they haven’t felt the panic of missing a train in a foreign country, the sting of being the only stranger in a crowded alley, or the triumph of figuring it all out by yourself. They have no idea how hard it sometimes is. And honestly, their opinion doesn’t matter. Not one bit. Stop worrying about what those people think. They’ll never understand, they don’t travel, they don’t go solo, and they’ll never face those moments of raw self-confrontation. And that’s exactly why you will grow. Shitty for them, huh? While they sit safely in their bubble, you’re out there actually living, failing, learning, and coming back sharper, while they scrolling their tiktok, instagram or whatever without being forced to have a single thought of their own.
Go solo
Since that first Istanbul trip, I have travelled solo through almost forty countries. I have survived India without food poisoning, stood on top of the Empire State Building, been held at gunpoint in Lebanon, roamed the Serengeti, chilled with llamas on the Machu Picchu and wandered through Asian cities that never sleep. Each time I learned something new about the world and about myself.
So if you have never travelled solo, go. Not to prove you are independent, not for Instagram or Tiktok. Go because it will shake you up in a way nothing else can, go because it will strip away all the excuses you tell yourself about why you cannot. Life is too short to keep waiting for someone else to come with you.
