So, picture this: I’m sitting in a cute Parisian café, sipping my third cappuccino of the morning, when a couple next to me starts arguing over their map. The guy wants to visit the Louvre; she’s dying to shop at Le Marais. Meanwhile, I’m just… vibing. 🥐✨ No compromises, no debates—just me, my croissant, and whatever the heck I feel like doing next. That’s the magic of solo travel, babes.
Let’s get one thing straight: traveling alone as a woman isn’t about proving you’re “brave” or “edgy.” It’s about rewriting the script society handed you—the one that says you need a plus-one to feel complete. Spoiler alert: you don’t. Last year, I ditched the group chats, ignored the “but isn’t it dangerous?” comments, and booked a one-way ticket to Lisbon. What followed wasn’t just a vacation—it was a masterclass in self-trust. Here’s the tea. ☕
1. The Art of Packing Light (But Not Too Light) 🧳
My first solo trip involved a 50-pound suitcase and enough outfits to dress a Kardashian. Big mistake. After dragging that monstrosity up three flights of stairs in a Barcelona hostel (no elevator, obviously), I learned the golden rule: Your luggage should never weigh more than your self-doubt. Now? I roll with a carry-on and a capsule wardrobe. Pro tip: Pack neutral layers and one statement piece (a silk scarf or bold earrings) to feel put-together without the bulk. Oh, and always bring a reusable water bottle—hydration is your secret weapon against jet lag and questionable street food decisions.
2. Safety First (But Paranoia Never) 🔒
Yes, I’ve had my mom text me “DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS” in all caps. But here’s the truth: most people aren’t out to get you—they’re too busy living their own lives. That said, intuition is your superpower. I always:
– Share my live location with two trusted friends
– Carry a portable door lock for sketchy Airbnbs (game-changer!)
– Learn three emergency phrases in the local language (“Help,” “Bathroom,” and “Another glass of wine, please” 🍷)
But here’s what no one tells you: The biggest risk isn’t strangers—it’s doubting yourself. That time I nearly skipped a sunset kayak tour because “what if I flip over and die alone?”? Went anyway. Didn’t die. Now it’s my favorite memory of Santorini.
3. Making Friends Without Losing Your ‘Me Time’ 👯♀️
Solo ≠ lonely. In Reykjavik, I bonded with a German artist over fermented shark (don’t ask) at a communal dinner. In Tokyo, a grandma taught me origami in a park. But here’s the key: You control the social dial. Stay in hostels with group activities if you want instant pals, or book a private room if you crave solitude. Apps like Bumble BFF or local Meetup groups are gold—I once joined a spontaneous poetry slam in Dublin with people I’d known for 90 minutes. Magic happens when you’re open but not desperate.
4. The Unexpected Joy of Getting Lost (Literally) 🗺️
Google Maps is great until it isn’t. My phone died in Marrakech’s medina, and you know what? Wandering those labyrinthine alleys led me to a hidden rug shop where I drank mint tea with a Berber artisan who’d been weaving for 40 years. His stories were better than any guidebook. Now I deliberately “get lost” for an hour each trip—no agenda, no photos, just curiosity. It’s like therapy, but with better scenery.
Why This All Matters
Solo travel isn’t selfish—it’s radical self-respect. Every time you navigate a foreign subway system or order dinner in broken Italian, you’re whispering to your soul: “I’ve got you.” And that confidence? It leaks into your career, relationships, and that icky voice in your head that says you’re not enough.
So yeah, that couple in Paris? They made up and went to a perfume museum together. Cute. But me? I followed a street musician to an underground jazz club, danced with strangers, and walked back to my hotel at 2 AM feeling like the freaking protagonist of my life. And honey, that’s a plot twist worth writing. 📖