My first big solo trip came at a time when I had no business going on an adventure. But I did it anyway.
It was April 2018. I had been laid off for more than a year and was driving for Lyft to stay afloat. I hated the work, but was grateful for it because it helped stabilize me financially while I searched for my next job. Turns out, a new job wouldn’t come for another two years. At the time, life felt heavy. I couldn’t see joy ahead of me, and even the smallest glimmer of happiness felt out of reach.
One afternoon while Lyfting, I dropped off a friendly passenger who started telling me about a trip she had just returned from. Her excitement was contagious. Listening to her talk about all she experienced on her trip made something stir in me. I mentioned that I wished I could travel somewhere too, and she immediately poured so much encouragement into me that I started to believe it might actually be possible. And that’s when the delusion set in and I ran with it.
I made a deal with myself. I decided I would save as much money as I could, and if I didn’t land a job within a month, I would take a trip somewhere. Spoiler alert: I didn’t get the job.
So I kept saving and started researching where I might go. I knew I wanted somewhere far away, somewhere safe for a Black woman traveling alone, and ideally a place where English was commonly spoken. After a bit of searching, I landed on a destination that felt both exciting and unexpected: Stockholm, Sweden.
I was aware the currency conversion wouldn’t be in my favor, but after finding a relatively affordable flight and a reasonably priced hotel, the plan was set. I was officially going on my first big solo trip. And the moment I arrived, everything went slightly wrong.
The flight was harder than I expected. My luggage took forever to appear at baggage claim. I couldn’t understand the taxi system. I got lost trying to take the train to my hotel neighborhood. It was pretty much, a bit of a mess.
But somewhere in the middle of all that confusion, I realized something important: every frustrating moment eventually passed.
That was the magic.
And it’s still the biggest lesson solo travel has ever taught me.
When you travel alone, the small problems feel bigger at first. Getting lost. Lugging your suitcase down the wrong street. Looking very obviously like a tourist. But once you understand that each moment is temporary, something shifts.
You get lost? You pull out a map and figure it out.
You wander the wrong direction? Eventually you turn around.
You look like a tourist? Chances are you’ll never see those people again anyway.
Of course, safety always comes first. But outside of true danger, most challenges while traveling alone are simply passing moments. And once I understood that, solo travel became much easier and far more joyful.
Because the real magic of going somewhere new alone isn’t just about the destination. It’s about realizing you’re capable of figuring things out and this trip showed me that about myself. It showed me that I can navigate a new place, solve problems, and trust myself along the way.
Looking back, that trip to Stockholm didn’t solve all of my problems. It was incredible and reminded me that I was strong enough to step into it on my own. And I truly needed that.
When I look back on that trip I know that sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is simply go. Even if the timing isn’t perfect, if the plan isn’t flawless, or if you’re a little scared. If your gut is telling you to go, go. Because somewhere out there, in a new city or after getting lost for the third time, you might just discover a version of yourself you didn’t know was waiting.
And that’s the real magic of going somewhere new alone.
I love this 🥲🥲🥲