Article Summary:
- I’ve realized over the years that traveling alone means I don’t have to compromise my idea of a perfect trip to make someone else happy.
- Traveling solo means you’re able to listen to your body and take things at your own pace – whether that’s fast or slow.
- You learn to enjoy your own company and create rich, deep memories!
As a relatively seasoned traveler, both domestically and internationally, I’ve had the opportunity to experiment with what works and doesn’t work for me.
But for a while, I was in denial about something I knew was true: I prefer to travel alone.
Yet every time I got the itch to go to a new place, I’d start brainstorming who to invite with me. I’ve spent many lazy, daydreamy nights making lists with my boyfriend of the cities we’d most like to visit together. I try to never decline an invitation to a hectic, crowded family vacation.
But then, without fail, every time these plans come to fruition and I’m exploring a new place with friends or family in tow, it hits me. I wish I were alone. And I’m finally starting to embrace my love of solo adventuring and ditch the feeling that there’s something lame or lonely about traveling alone.
I’d argue there’s something courageous and fulfilling about traveling alone. It’s a sign that a person refuses to limit herself to the opportunities that life and her social circle present, and instead grabs the bull by its horns and forges her own path.
And at the end of the day, I’ve had an amazing experience every single time I’ve traveled alone.
If you’re on the fence about whether you’re ready for a solo adventure–whether it’s to another state or another continent–read on to see why I think it’s the superior way to travel.
Table of Contents
You Can Completely Personalize Your Trip
When I’m traveling, I want to make the most out of my trip. I’ve spent lots of time and money putting the pieces in place, and I’ve anxiously counted down the days until my plane finally takes off.
The only problem? “Making the most of a trip” means something completely different to every person.
For some people, it’s getting up at the crack of dawn to be the first in line at the Magic Kingdom when the park opens. For another, it means sleeping in and refusing to rush–because it’s a vacation! Unfortunately, someone will always end up disappointed, and someone will always have to compromise.
You might end up going to a fancier restaurant for dinner than you feel your budget allows. Maybe you love to read by the pool, but your friend loves to chat. Even small influences like the pressure to have another glass of wine one night can impact the next morning, and by extension, your precious trip.
But even more significant than what I could lose in the compromise are all the opportunities I might only gain if I’m alone.
Last month, I traveled to Washington D.C. by myself for work, but I padded the trip with some extra leisure time. The first day I arrived, I was feeling a little stir-crazy in my hotel room. On a whim, I Googled events in D.C. that night, and I saw a listing for a chess club at a bar.
Even though I’d never been to a chess club before, I decided to seize the opportunity and take the risk.
About ten minutes later, I’d hopped on the train and was on my way to DuPont Circle. It was a little terrifying to walk into a room full of strangers who were better than me at chess (I’m an introvert), but soon enough, I’d been invited to join a group of people about my age.
I had a blast, and I met some amazing people. By facing my fears, I forged memories I’ll never forget. And because I got to lean into my nerdy love of chess–something I wouldn’t have done with a friend along for the ride–I got to have a custom-designed night of fun in a new city.
You Don’t Have to Sacrifice Self-Care
As a traveler with some chronic health challenges, I’ve always been a big believer that I can find a way to do the things I love to do, even when there are extra logistics involved. I want to help everyone I know feel equally empowered. And sometimes, that means listening to your body and going at your pace. While not impossible, it can be hard to do this when traveling with others.
My friends are great about checking in and changing plans if I need a little extra downtime, but it’s always been hard for me to shake the guilt of slowing others down, even if it’s irrational. I therefore tend to tough certain situations out or pretend I’m okay when I’m not.
Maybe you’ve got a little headache that a quick nap would fix, but that feels obtrusive, so you pop an Advil and soldier on. Or maybe, you feel claustrophobic in museums, but you don’t want to cramp anyone else’s style.
As someone with neurological issues, I learned the hard way that I struggle to negotiate spiral staircases. I’d made it to the top of a giant cathedral in the Netherlands with a friend, and then I struggled to get back down. She was calling to me from a few landings below, and I hurried down the stairs, even though the twisting had induced vertigo.
I still feel lucky that I didn’t topple down those stairs that day as I rushed to keep up.
I also have some sensory sensitivities that mean I hate fireworks. I have many memories of rushing my friends out of a venue. I always feel a little like a burden–and also stressed about whether we will make it out in time.
The last time I went to Disney World, I had a day in the parks alone before meeting up with a close friend in the evening. It was definitely intimidating–as I looked around, I saw very few other solo travelers, and it was tempting to feel like there was something wrong with me for making this choice.
But you know what? I had a beautifully relaxed day, where I didn’t struggle with the challenges I’ve come to associate with theme parks: dehydration, too much time on my feet, sensory overwhelm, and not stopping to eat until I’m starving.
By navigating the parks alone, I was able to stop when I needed to, eat when I wanted to, and–most importantly–get out well before the fireworks!
You Will Form Vivid and Vibrant Memories
As an introverted person who spends a lot of time in my own head, I remember when I first noticed that I had inside jokes with myself. I would sometimes revisit funny, or even poignant, memories that I had experienced–alone.
When you begin to see humor and an overarching storyline to your life even when there’s no one there to tell it to–I think you’re impervious to loneliness.
I’ve started seeking out opportunities to “bond with myself” like this. I now cherish the moments that I lay the groundwork for future jokes with myself and reflections about my past, and these moments have helped me learn who I am and what I believe.
At some point, I realized that when I travel with others, I tend to defer to them. I’m characteristically awful with directions. I’m lost all the time. So when I travel with friends, I let them handle the directions, and I just trot along behind them.
But the surprising thing I learned, after struggling through navigation on a few solo trips, is that sometimes being lost is the best adventure you can have.
I’ve found amazing hole-in-the-wall restaurants that way, ended up exploring amazing parks, and even had to figure out how to communicate in a foreign language to get navigation help. (Okay, that last one was genuinely a bit stressful.)
On my last trip to Europe, I wandered alone in the town of Roscoff, France. If I’d been traveling with friends, I probably never would have even made it to Roscoff. I was only there because the Google images of the town looked incredible, but it was a pretty arduous trek and required hours of train rides.
I hopped on a ferry to a little, isolated island called Iles de Batz, then began to explore the island on my own. Acting only on instinct and curiosity, I followed a winding dirt path for a couple of miles, passing almost no one on my way. I stumbled upon the ruins of an 11th-century church out in the undeveloped countryside of the island, the sea in the background.
I guarantee that I will never forget standing among those ruins with the sea crashing and the wind whistling and no one else in sight. I got a chill down my spine, and I developed an even deeper appreciation for why sometimes we need solitude to feel the depth and complexity of a moment.
**
I love traveling by myself. I can cater to my exact preferences, listen to my body and slow down when I need to, and form vivid memories and insights spurred by solitude.
But I’ll close by saying that when you travel alone, one of the most beautiful things you might gain is a connection with the strangers around you. By traveling alone and remaining present, I believe you’re opening yourself up for human connection.
When you choose to travel without people you know, just remember that there’s a whole world of people out there, and solo adventures never have to be lonely.
Related Guides:
