10 lessons from 10 years of solo travel as a woman

I am 31 years old, but at heart still 25. Only recently did I tally up the numbers and realise that damn, I have been travelling solo for 10 years now, all throughout my 20s. It was never something I planned or imagined would be so important in shaping the course of my life. But the euphoria of complete freedom I experience when I release myself of all inhibitions, possessions and expectations of what a woman is allowed to do is a feeling that will never leave my bones. It is something I will crave for the rest of my life.

Here are some of the things I have learned over a decade of globetrotting alone, bright-eyed and open-hearted with my wheely backpack and rip-off Birkenstocks.

1. Eating dinner alone is the hardest meal of the day.

Breakfast, I am fresh as a daisy; I have stepped out of the hostel in my beige linen European summer outfit. I find a quaint café, after googling ‘best coffee in _______’ because the Melbourne cliché has embedded itself into my personality. I bring out my small notebook and ponder my beautiful life and chaotic thoughts. I am enjoying my solitude deeply. Life is great.

After a long walk exploring the city, it is time for a much-deserved lazy lunch. I find an outdoor restaurant that has a ‘Meal of the Day’ special. I order a glass of wine, because why not? I browse through social media while I eat. Life is good.

Panic starts setting in around 6 pm. I am beginning to feel hungry, and I have no one to eat with. The restaurants start lighting their candles, the couples are gazing into each other’s eyes over antipasto. I desperately begin swiping on Bumble for a dining mate. No luck with instant replies. I contemplate getting some fast food, but screw that, I want to eat well. I try to increase my confidence through pep talks. ‘You are a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. You got this.’

But do I got this? I finally summon the courage and walk up to the maître d who is judging me already. “Table for 1 please,” I whimper. I sit down and feel all eyes on me. ‘Why is this hot young woman eating alone? Poor thing, maybe her fiancée ditched her, maybe she is too weird to have any friends’ I don’t know what to do or where to look. I fiddle with my phone although I don’t want to. I feel very lonely and pity myself. I devour my seafood risotto and sprint out, crying into my gelato as I walk home. Life can feel sad when you don’t have good company to share meals with.

2. So many of the friendships I made I would not have if I had a travelling companion.

Travelling with someone else is a social safety net, and that can get suffocating too. There is no technical need for you to talk to or spend time with anyone except your travelling companion(s) and that can result in you missing out on other meaningful connections. I made so many friends throughout my travels. A guitarist in Dubrovnik, Croatia took pity/interest in the sole woman appreciating his music on the street corner and invited me to a hidden wine bar his beautiful friend owned. I spent a week making music and art with my Airbnb host and his friends in Asilah, Morocco. I met a girl at a bar in El Nido, Philippines who took me on a small boat at midnight with her friends to a secret full moon party on a deserted island. I formed deep friendships with intriguing humans I would’ve never encountered otherwise, whose perspectives broadened my mind and enriched my travels.

3. I explored my identity to ocean depths.

Through my solo travels, I came to understand and nurture facets of my identity that were yet to bloom. I felt a newfound appreciation for the silent joy of solitude. As I discovered the world, I uncovered more of my authentic self. This was especially true for gaining confidence in being an unconventional woman, in not wanting to buy a house, get married, or “settle down” as is expected for women all over the world. Experiencing the deep contentment of solo travel made me realise what is important in life to me, what my main guiding values and ideology are. Over time, I was able to assert my lifestyle choices to my South Asian parents, who were waiting for my exploration phase to be over and for me to become a “responsible adult”.

4. Budgeting actually enriched my travels.

Being on a budget for the longest continuous trip I have done – 15 months through 15 countries – required me to engage in volunteering stints to make my finances last. And so, I took care of the unvaccinated child of a hippie family living on the outskirts of Bulgaria. I spent a month at an English school in Morocco. I helped set up a community centre for refugee women in Greece. These are some of the most memorable anecdotes of my travels as I experienced what truly authentic community felt like. Not spending money allowed me to focus on finding creative ways of cultivating joy and building connections.

Similarly, lacking a travel companion to split the cost of a private room with, most of the accommodation I stayed in were hostels where I crossed paths with a plethora of fascinating people. I met a 76-year-old man who had been living in a hostel in Sofia, Bulgaria, for 15 months. I met an American family with four daughters who sold their house and all their possessions and were forever travelling as their new permanent lifestyle.