Why You Should Travel Solo at Least Once in Your Lifetime
I’m grateful to my 21yo self.
Facebook reminded me that 5 years ago on this day, I was travelling solo in Stockholm, Sweden. The photo you see above is from there. It's beautiful, that's one thing.
But it was also during the first time that I saw the midnight sun.
10 pm or 2 am, the light grey hues of the sky painted it as a nice evening as if it was 5 pm. And at 5 am, the sun would shine so bright that I regretted not carrying my eye mask, and my hostel didn’t have blackout curtains.
So I thought, why not write about travelling solo?
I travelled solo to ten countries at 21 when I was studying in England. That was five years ago, and it changed parts of me for good, forever.
An Indian Girl Alone in a Dorm Full of Men
It’s uncomfortable.
Amsterdam was my first solo trip, and I was in a dorm of 32 people. Around me, I only saw men.
I come from a place where I’m conscious of how I dress depending on where I go and who I meet, and I will always look out for potential danger. I may be zoned out in general, but when in front of men, I’m always more guarded.
It's how most of us are brought up, so we’re safe.
In many communities in rural areas, it's common for women to wear loose clothes and cover their faces with a scarf so they don’t catch men’s eyes. So much because we cannot instead teach our men not to harass, assault, and rape.
Getting back to Amsterdam… I spent my entire night being anxious. I put my passport and phone and zipped them in my jacket. I hugged it and slept so they were safe.
I was so scared for my life!
The next day, as I mingled more, I realised nobody really cares about me. And it also taught me…
“The World Is a Big Bad Place”
I think it largely depends on you, and a bit on being unfortunate.
When I travelled solo for 19 days across six countries, I experienced how friendly locals and hostel mates can be. The world isn’t as scary as we grow up thinking it is.
Not everyone is coming after us.
Hyperawareness
Six months ago, I married a human who’s the opposite of me in a few ways.
He likes the air conditioner at 17°C and me at 25°C. He’s a winter lover; I’m intolerable to winters and am a complete summer baby.
He’s aware of his surroundings, and I daydream often.
So during our honeymoon in Japan four months ago, there were instances of me leaving my bag behind me as I’d buy train tickets. This was followed by him explaining to me that the bag should always be in front of me. Because it’s not about someone stealing our bag, it’s about being prone to somebody planting something in it.
I don’t think of all this.
Unless I travel solo — I’m extra aware of my surroundings. I don’t know how it happens, but it makes you aware outside and inside. Suddenly, I didn’t munch mindlessly or miss out on anything I saw. I observed and absorbed every moment.
And back then, I didn’t even meditate.
Your Walls Will Break
When you start your travels, if you’re an introvert like me, you’ll be shy and quiet and awkward. You’ll be timid and will build an imaginary wall to safeguard you from embarrassing yourself.
Maybe you won’t approach anyone to talk to, not even your hostel mates.
Maybe you won't partake in any hostel games (I didn’t either, hi-5!).
But slowly, your walls will come down. Because:
- people will speak to you
- you’ll hear stories like never before
- you’ll realise that people from across the world aren’t all that different
- you’ll have a lot of fun and will eventually carry somebody’s memory with you
Your walls, no matter how high, will eventually come down. It’s the small humane things that brought mine down, such as:
- A German baker’s trust: I reached Berlin starving. He didn’t know English, and I don’t know German. I somehow communicated I’m hungry and just some plain bread with cheese would work. Later, he told me he only accepts cash and said ‘ATM 10 minutes’. I didn’t find anything 10 minutes away and got back after 45 minutes. I don’t know how he trusted me knowing I’ll come back.
- A Syrian’s refugee story: after meeting a Syrian journalist in Paris, I heard stories of his family and refugees. It was so painful and heartbreaking that I realised none of our problems are as big. Think of being on a boat for ten days, not knowing if you’ll see the shore. Even if you see it, you don’t know if you’ll be welcome. I wrote about this experience in detail here.
- People walking me: when I asked for directions, it happened a few times where a local was more than happy to walk me closer to my destination. I don’t know why, but I felt safe and respected.
The Greatest Teacher
Is experience.
No books can teach me how to find my way back when I got lost at midnight in freezing cold weather in Berlin.
No movies can make me feel the way I did when I saw the two sides of Budapest on foot or went pub crawling to ruin bars.
No browsing at art makes me feel how museums do.
No songs can give me the true vibe of the city that I wander on my feet.
And of course, people. The stories they tell you about their life and experiences can’t be found anywhere in the world. And these are the stories you’ll come back with and remember them from.
It’s these memories that keep us going, and make us keep coming back.