Why I Ignored My Anxiety About Travelling Solo

And you should too

Most people who meet me probably wouldn’t describe me as a very adventurous person. I get anxious easily, and I’m more likely to be at home watching a movie on a Saturday night than out dancing at clubs or going to parties. So it might be a bit surprising to know that I’ve travelled all over the world — sometimes with other people, but more often on my own.

My first solo trip almost didn’t happen. It had started out like many of my previous vacations, planned with a group of friends while we were having dinner, searching Google Flights and Skyscanner for the cheapest flights available in the coming months. Italy looked promising, specifically Milan, as did Austria. We eventually settled on Vienna.

Over the coming weeks, however, there started to be some logistical problems. One of my friends was offered a new job, and wouldn’t be able to take a week off as originally planned. Another needed to take the time to visit family instead. So it seemed more and more likely that I’d be going on my own or not at all.

Around this same time, I’d started watching YouTubers like Drew Binsky and Yes Theory who showcased their adventures to every part of the planet imaginable. I loved watching their videos and living vicariously through them, but I never really saw myself being able to do those sorts of things myself. I wasn’t an extrovert, after all, nor was I used to going outside my comfort zone. On top of this, I’d been warned by family members and sensationalistic news articles about the dangers of solo travel for females. So how was I going to travel to a country I’d never been to before on my own?

As silly as it sounds in retrospect, I spent weeks going back and forth on whether I’d go or not. I’d read articles about the many amazing sights in Vienna and begin to get excited about the trip, only to spend an equal amount of time worrying about what would happen if I got lost or stuck somewhere on my own. In a moment of optimism (one that I’m very grateful for now) I booked a flight and hotel. They weren’t refundable, so there was no going back.

The day of my departure I wasn’t feeling as excited as I normally would have been for a vacation. What Ifs were still plaguing me — what if my phone gets stolen? What if I can’t figure out the metro system? — and I began to feel the (completely ridiculous) anxiety that everyone at the airport was looking at me and judging me for being alone. Even once I’d gotten through the flight and found my way to my hotel in Vienna, there was a part of me that didn’t think I could make it through the next week. This only intensified when I went to get dinner at a restaurant nearby.

I approached a waitress tentatively — I’d read that many restaurants are seat yourself in Austria — and asked if I could sit anywhere. The waitress said yes and pointed out a cluster of free tables, then turned back to me. “Just for one?” she asked. I nodded, feeling my cheeks turning red. As I ate, I once again felt like everyone was staring at me and judging me, and I asked for the bill, paid, and left as quickly as I could.

Nevertheless, I got up the next morning and set out on my first day of sightseeing. To my surprise, the metro couldn’t have been easier to navigate, probably one of the easiest that I’d ever used. Almost everyone I encountered spoke English, so I barely even had to use the German phrases that I’d memorized in preparation. And as for the many palaces, cathedrals, and museums…well, I’ll let you judge for yourself:

Since then, I’ve travelled by myself many times, and I’m currently planning another solo trip, this time to Portugal. Do I sometimes still feel slightly embarrassed when I have to ask for a table for one at a restaurant? Yes, I do. But I promise you it’s worth it.