Everyone tells you solo travel is empowering. Life changing. The best decision you’ll ever make.
They’re right. But they’re also leaving out some important parts.
Nobody warned me that I’d spend my first solo dinner crying in a bathroom. That I’d feel crushingly lonely in the middle of a crowded street. That some days, freedom would feel less like adventure and more like being completely unmoored from everything familiar.
Solo travel transformed my life. But it wasn’t Instagram worthy, and it definitely wasn’t easy.
The First Night
My first solo trip was to Thailand. I’d booked a hostel, researched the neighborhood, felt prepared. I landed in Bangkok at midnight, exhausted and disoriented. The taxi driver didn’t speak English. I couldn’t read the street signs. My phone wasn’t working properly.
When I finally found my hostel, I checked in, went to my dorm room, and lay on the bottom bunk staring at the ceiling. Eight strangers snored around me. I’d never felt more alone in my life.
What have I done? I thought. Why did I think this was a good idea?
I wanted to go home. I wanted my own bed, my friends, my regular coffee shop, anything familiar. The weight of being completely responsible for myself in a foreign country hit me all at once.
I didn’t sleep that night. I just waited for morning, questioning every decision that led me there.
The Reality Check
Here’s what people don’t tell you about solo travel: it’s hard. Really hard. Especially at first.
You eat alone. A lot. And not in a cute “reading a book at a café” way. In a “trying not to make eye contact with couples and friend groups while you awkwardly scroll through your phone” way.
You have nobody to share moments with. You see something beautiful and turn to say “did you see that?” and there’s nobody there. You want to talk about your day and there’s nobody who cares.
You make all the decisions. Sounds great until you’re standing at a crossroads in a foreign city, exhausted and hungry, and you have no idea which way to go and nobody to ask “what do you think?”
You carry everything yourself. Your bag, your problems, your anxiety, your excitement. There’s no one to split the load.
When It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better
Day three in Bangkok, I met some people at the hostel. We went out together. It was fun. I felt relieved. See? Solo travel is fine! I thought.
Then they left the next day. New city, new plans. And I was alone again.
This kept happening. I’d meet people, connect, feel less lonely, and then we’d part ways. It was like making friends in fast forward and saying goodbye on repeat. Emotionally exhausting.
I called my best friend from a 7 Eleven parking lot in Chiang Mai, sobbing. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I told her. “Everyone else seems to have it figured out. I feel like I’m failing at this.”
“Failing at what?” she asked. “You’re traveling. You’re doing it. There’s no test to pass.”
She was right, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like everyone else was having a transformative spiritual journey and I was just lonely and tired.
The Turning Point
It happened in a small town whose name I can’t even remember. I was sitting alone at a restaurant, feeling sorry for myself, when an older local woman sat down at my table uninvited.
She didn’t speak much English. I didn’t speak any of her language. But she pointed at my food, made a gesture that I interpreted as “is it good?” and we somehow had a 20 minute conversation using mostly hand signals and facial expressions.
She showed me photos of her grandchildren. I showed her photos of my family. She laughed at something on my phone. I laughed at her reaction. When she left, she squeezed my hand.
It wasn’t profound. We didn’t exchange information. I’ll never see her again. But something shifted. I realized I’d been so focused on being alone that I’d stopped being open. I’d been eating with headphones in, walking with my head down, protecting myself from loneliness by avoiding connection.
That woman didn’t care that I was alone. She just saw someone to talk to.
What Changed
I started saying yes. To invitations, to conversations, to random opportunities. A guy at the hostel invited a group to a cooking class? Yes. Someone needed a person to split a taxi? Yes. A stranger asked if I wanted to see a local festival? Yes.
Some of these led nowhere. Some led to amazing experiences. All of them made me feel less alone.
I stopped eating in my room. Even when I didn’t want to face the restaurant alone, I went anyway. I brought a book. I people watched. I struck up conversations with waiters. Sometimes I met people. Sometimes I didn’t. Both were okay.
I learned to enjoy my own company. This sounds like self help nonsense, but it’s true. I started doing things I wanted to do without waiting for someone else. I took a pottery class alone. I went to a movie alone. I spent an entire day at a beach alone. And it was… nice. I could move at my own pace. Think my own thoughts. Be fully myself without performing for anyone.
I stopped comparing my experience to others. Social media made it look like every solo traveler was having constant adventures and deep revelations. Real solo travel is 80% logistics and loneliness and 20% magic. And that’s normal.
The Lonely Moments Never Fully Go Away
Even now, after years of solo travel, I still have hard days. Days where I wish someone was there to laugh at something with me. Days where I’m tired of being the only person responsible for everything. Days where I just want someone familiar.
Last month in Lisbon, I had the best pastel de nata of my life. It was absurdly good. I wanted to turn to someone and say “oh my god, try this.” But there was nobody. I ate it alone, and it was delicious and also a little sad.
That’s the trade off. You get complete freedom, but you experience everything alone. Both things are true at the same time.
What Solo Travel Actually Teaches You
It’s not about “finding yourself” (though sure, maybe that happens). It’s about learning to be okay when things go wrong and you’re the only one who can fix it.
It’s about discovering you’re more capable than you thought. You can navigate foreign transit systems. You can communicate without speaking the language. You can make friends in strange places. You can handle problems you never imagined having.
It’s about realizing loneliness isn’t fatal. You can feel lonely and still be okay. You can be uncomfortable and survive. You can miss home and still choose to stay.
It’s about understanding that you don’t need permission or a companion to do things. You can go to that restaurant. Take that trip. Try that activity. You’re enough, all by yourself.
The Things I Gained
Confidence, yes. But also resilience. The ability to sit with discomfort. Comfort with uncertainty. A high tolerance for things not going according to plan.
I learned to trust myself. To trust my instincts about people and places. To make decisions without consensus. To take up space without apologizing.
I learned that I’m better company than I thought. That I can entertain myself. That I have more inner resources than I realized.
I learned that connection is everywhere if you’re open to it. Not deep, lasting connection always, but small human moments that matter. A smile from a stranger. A shared laugh with a shopkeeper. A conversation with someone you’ll never see again.
Would I Recommend It?
Yes. Absolutely yes. But I’d be honest about it.
Solo travel will be hard. You will be lonely. You will question why you’re doing this. You will have moments of profound doubt and discomfort.
You will also have moments of absolute joy and freedom. You will surprise yourself. You will have experiences that change how you see the world and yourself.
Both things are true. The hard parts don’t cancel out the good parts. They’re part of the same journey.
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me
It’s okay to struggle. You’re not doing it wrong if you feel lonely or scared or overwhelmed. That’s part of it.
Start small if you need to. Your first solo trip doesn’t have to be six months in Southeast Asia. It can be a weekend in a nearby city. Build up to the big adventures.
Have an exit strategy. Know that you can always go home. Sometimes just knowing you have that option makes it easier to stay.
Connect with people but don’t rely on them. Enjoy the company when it comes, but don’t make your entire trip dependent on meeting others.
Be kind to yourself. Some days you’ll want to hide in your hostel and that’s fine. Rest is part of travel too.
The Girl in the Bangkok Hostel
Sometimes I think about that first night, lying on that bunk bed, terrified and alone. I wish I could tell her it gets easier. That she’s braver than she knows. That three years later, she’ll be writing about this experience having traveled to 40 countries, most of them solo.
But I also think she needed that scared, lonely night. She needed to sit with the discomfort and choose to stay anyway. That’s where it started.
Solo travel isn’t always empowering. Sometimes it’s just hard. But doing hard things, surviving them, even thriving in them—that’s where the growth happens.
So yes, go. Travel alone. See the world on your own terms. Just know that it won’t be perfect. It won’t always be fun. You will have moments where you question everything.
And you’ll be okay. Better than okay. You’ll be changed in ways you can’t imagine yet.
Just maybe pack some tissues for that first night. Trust me on this one.
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