After a couple of years of lockdowns, much of which time was spent living in Georgia, 2022 has been the year of getting back into travel and solo travel. I’m drafting this post from Mendoza where it’s pushing 40°C (too hot even to sip Malbec or nibble an alfajor). Seeing as my passport only gives me three months at a time in Chile, I’ve had to hop the border a couple of times to get a fresh stamp and avoid becoming illegal. As my partner works an in-person job with restricted time off, I’ve flown (or bussed) solo for these trips.
It actually feels great to travel alone from time to time and reap those benefits of solo travel. As much as I love sharing the experience of travel with the special people (oh, and cats – a whole other story involving titre testing, ferries, and a two-hour hunt for an escapee feline in Istanbul) in my life, I don’t really see myself quitting solo jaunts in the future.
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Solo travel: My story
My first experience of travelling solo was when I was 17: a trip to Scotland (on the pretence of) visiting universities. After a day snapping photos of castles and monuments in Edinburgh, I spent two nights in St Andrews where I attended a lightning-speed campus tour in between blustery coastal wanders. Even now, I remember the feeling of having those days entirely to myself – waking up when I felt like it, eating what I wanted to eat (I was 17 – where else but McDonalds), and enjoying my anonymity.
After moving to London for work, I travelled quite a bit around the United Kingdom. On average I took two to three trips a month, some being a night, others being a week. Although I was on duty chaperoning authors, much of my time on these trips was spent alone and I looked forward to them as a break from whatever my current flatshare happened to be. Later, a meagre payrise and perk of a office dog lured me over to medical exhibition sales and marketing where I was shocked to learn that McDonalds is also the choice lunch of leading cardiologists in the Netherlands. Again, I had the luxury of flying in and out on my own most of the time and having evenings and an odd few hours all to myself in between drumming up new contracts.
My first official solo holiday took me to the south of Spain: a few nights in an Airbnb in Alicante (back in the day when it was a spare room) before checking into a yoga retreat at a tiny town on the Costa Blanca. I’d wake up bright and early for the 6 a.m. yoga class and spend the rest of my day on my tod – hiking, cycling, reading, daydreaming, and smuggling (the retreat was vegan but holidays = ice cream).
The following summer I tested out my latest credit card and laser eye surgery by splashing out on a sailing trip along the Croatian coast (look mum, no contact lenses!). Again, I framed the trip with a couple of nights in an Airbnb so I could catch my breath and spend time exploring Split. After getting overzealous with the Yale and locking myself in the apartment (this year I’d gone all out and booked an entire flat) I learned that I’m quite handy with a spanner and appreciate Airbnb hosts who kindly left a toolkit knocking around. See, travel really does help us find ourselves.
Most of my twenties were spent Googling advice on how to take an actual grown-up gap year, how to find jobs abroad, how to travel solo. During my Croatia sailing trip, I promised myself that I’d set the wheels in motion for a backpacking, long-term travel adventure of some kind before I hit 30 and lost my chance to apply for a working holiday visa. When I finally put a plan into action to leave England indefinitely and travel while working, there wasn’t any question of not going it alone.
The bad
While I can wax lyrical about the joys and benefits of solo travel, there are (as with everything) drawbacks. One of the main issues that comes up is loneliness. I’ll admit, this isn’t something that affects me, and I have the opposite of this – craving solitary time and relishing the luxury of time alone (only child syndrome).
However, feeling lonely is an issue for so many solo travellers and it’s important to think about how being alone for extended periods may affect you and how to handle it when it happens. From my own experience, it’s easy – if not easier – to befriend other people when travelling alone. Travellers are often more likely to strike up conversations with solo travellers, and solo travelling is far from uncommon. Meet-ups are readily available, via hostels or expat/digital nomad/backpacker Facebook groups. In fact, it’s couple travellers who seem to struggle the most as other travellers tend to assume they’re not down to mingle.
There is a tonne of advice out there on how to overcome loneliness when travelling which will help anyone feeling daunted by this.
Finance
Finance was my sticking point when it came to planning my big trip/jump to nomadism. When travelling solo, your base costs – accommodation, taxis, and renting vehicles – are obviously higher. I also felt the responsibility to keep a safety net in the bank at all times in case of a medical emergency or should I need to fly back to England at the drop of a hat.
If you’re travelling on a shoestring, you are often resigned to dorms while taxis are out of bounds. Plus, eating out can be pricier without someone to split dishes with. On the other hand, if you’re not travelling on a budget and love food – this can be a sneaky bonus: more food for you.
At the start of my travels in Southeast Asia, I stuck to dorms as much as I could bear to stretch my money. Although, I did have a few housesits and Workaway placements to break this up and I would splash out on a private room or Airbnb when I needed downtime. By the time I got to Indonesia, I almost exclusively stayed in private rooms after falling fatigued with dorms. Honestly, what is the antonym to loneliness?
Opting for night buses and trains is an age-old means of saving money on accommodation although this can feel less safe as a solo traveller. I have generally felt comfortable travelling on sleeper buses alone but there are places where I probably wouldn’t entertain this. Also, while I wouldn’t not take a night bus solo, I have noticed that I am far less stressed and anxious when travelling on sleeper buses with my partner.
Safety
Speaking of, safety is the other obvious issue with solo travel – especially for women. Yes, the statistics say that men are subject to more dangerous situations when travelling but sexual assault is a huge concern that disproportionately affects women (remind me of the stats on unreported sexual assaults and rape?). Safety is such a tricky area and there’s so much to say about solo travel and safety. It drives me mad that there are hundreds, thousands, of articles and blogs out there about how women can stay safe while travelling alone, always placing the burden of responsibility on us. But, that’s a topic for another day.
All I’ll say is that yes, travelling solo does require additional consideration to minimise the risk. I do plan my travel plans to limit risks and have a whole bunch of precautionary steps that I follow but CBA to type out. However, many of these safety tips and tricks are all things that I would do in my home country too. Why walk back to a flatshare in London with my keys wedged between my fist when I can do this anywhere else in the world?
The beauty of solo travel
There are far more things that I love about solo travel. For starters, on the whole, I actually love the solo part of solo travel. Travelling on buses alone (the day ones), solo sightseeing, mooching around tourist spots on my lonesome, eating alone, overcoming hurdles by myself, sipping my morning coffee in utter silence.
The liberty to schedule my day as I choose, particularly as I work while travelling. Living in a motorhome in New Zealand and spending days hiking, reading, and watching sunsets from my “garden boot” was an experience I’ll never take for granted. Even furnishing my van without having to compromise was fun.
Although it might sound selfish, I relish the freedom to think about only my needs when travelling alone. When spending time with other people in any capacity, I tend to get bogged down with worrying about whether they’re having a good enough time, whether I’m being good enough company – making mental lists of all the things that I might do that could possibly piss them off; travelling solo gives me a break from this cycle.
Less pressure
Solo travel takes the heat off. Whether you travel long-term or are taking a holiday, it’s typical to feel overwhelmed by the weight of “shoulds” and “musts”. Sometimes, I’ll have a list in my head of things I “should do” or “must-see”, but when I actually sit down and think about it, I realise that I’m actually not all that bothered by half of them. Church culture makes me mad and museums bore me to tears.
Solo travelling has really helped me to get more of a sense of my personality, interests, motivations, and limits. Maybe this does veer on millennial navel-gazing but I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with making time to explore what makes you tick and what doesn’t – and one of the key benefits of solo travel is that you have complete freedom to do so. Back living in England, I had such a complex about what people thought of me and I’d find it hard to say no to anyone in case I came off as “boring”. Since travelling solo, I care far less about fitting into the mould.
Confidence, hi
I would say that solo travel has increased my confidence. Anecdotally, I get this impression from other people who travel solo. When travelling on your own, you have to fix your own problems that inevitably rise. When you’re in the midst of a dilemma, this can obviously be pretty stressful. Once you’re on the other side, you can look back and appreciate that you pulled through. Although it sounds like a cliché, it’s still a confidence boost and we all need those from time to time.
As I made plans to leave London and travel in Southeast Asia, I fretted about how I would be too scared to scuba dive and surely be incapable of driving motorcycles. Fearing failure or embarrassment, I put off both of these for months. But, as I tackled the smaller, everyday logistics, decision-making, and issues that arise with long-term solo travel, I started to feel more inclined to give these activities a go. I think if I hadn’t travelled alone, I would have avoided both out of fear of messing up in front of my travel companion and being judged or ridiculed.
Budget
While travelling solo does often push up your base costs, the flipside of this is that you might actually find it easier to stick to a day-to-day budget. When you travel with a buddy or partner, you probably end up spending money where you wouldn’t chose to do if you were alone.
These past years of travelling with my boyfriend, I’ve certainly noticed that I spend a lot more money on food. Even when I’m not hungry, if I spot him picking up a snack I know I’ll inevitably have food envy if I don’t grab something for myself. However, I’m not complaining – and I doubt I’ll ever regret eating too many pastries, empanadas, lemon pies, etc.
One of the main benefits of solo travel is that the very essence of exploring a new place alone feels like an adventure. So, often, you might feel content purely to roam a neighbourhood or duck into a nondescript gallery in place of booking an expensive tour or activity. It all ties in with having the pressure taken off from racing through those so-called “bucket lists”.
Reflection time
Seeing as I generally travel with my partner these days – especially since we moved to his motherland – travelling solo gives me the space and time to reflect. We are well-matched in terms of travel style, both of us preferring a slow travel approach to exploring and needing to strike a balance with our careers. When we travel together, we’re never precious about spending every waking hour and every mealtime together. And when I go it alone, I used those long, peaceful walks and bus rides to help me to get my thoughts in order. With my solo trips to Argentina this year, it gives me more time to appreciate my relationship and look forward to a future of all different kinds of travel.
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