The Trials of Traveling Alone

I surged awake at four in the morning, excitement-filled jitters coursing through me for the travel day ahead. After traveling to 25 countries, I’ve got the packing and departure down to a science, but that underlying fear and general anxiety never fails to wash over me. This time, the main concern was: What the fuck will I do by myself in a foreign country for a week?

Solo traveling has long been romanticized in my brain. I’m a fly on the wall of so many travel bloggers who take on this journey alone across the globe. These strong, badass women narrate and share their days abroad, letting me into the raw truth of traveling. It isn’t always glitz and glam—I knew that going in. It also doesn’t actually have to be solo, even though it’s in the name. That part scared me, though. If I, the extrovert who is unfortunately introverted at first sight, wanted to make friends, I had to make it happen. Kind of like a lot of things in life, as I’m learning. That’s a separate think piece for another time, though.

So here I am at JFK, about to solo travel for the first time in my life at the age of 22. Thank god it was so early that my brain didn’t have time to ruminate on the what ifs and what the fucks. I slept my way from JFK to LAX, then did the same from LAX to PVR. Ten hours of travel later, I touched down in sunny Sayulita. The nerves from before dawn had completely left my being. I was in a new country. I was doing the thing I absolutely adore and could cry over how grateful I am to be living this life. It’s always beautiful to remember how the nerves are surface-level. Traveling isn’t as scary as my brain makes it out to be, and sometimes, instead of thinking, you just have to do.

I walked over the pedestrian bridge to the bus stop. I had done some research and knew I was supposed to hop on the green and white Compostela bus. That’s all I had to go off of, though. Google Maps had no schedule loaded, and there was no sign confirming I was in the right spot. I cross-referenced with a local and left the rest to fate. Ten minutes later, my bus arrived. I handed over 60 pesos and snuggled into my seat, preparing for the hour-long journey.

This bus ride reminded me a lot of the buses and trains in India we would take when I was younger. Fans blowing cool air to pierce through the humid heat, locals chatting during their daily commute, a little girl popping a squat next to the driver for her duration of the ride. Everyone knew each other, and I loved observing that.

I reached Sayulita around 5 p.m.! The town was covered in pride flags—Mexico is celebrating the gays and I’m here for it! From the bus stop, I had a 15-minute walk to my hostel. Despite being the shortest leg of my journey, it was definitely the most physically taxing. I’d like you to picture me: a 5’1" gal with an exploding 45L backpack strapped to her back, in 90-degree heat, hiking up some steep-ass hills. I reached the lobby of the hostel drenched in the travel day I’d just had, and to say it was worth it is definitely an understatement. I was greeted by the kindest humans—Mikey and Luis—and a cat that I honestly might smuggle back into the States if it keeps acting this adorable.

I wasted no time, immediately threw on my bathing suit, and made my way to find some tacos. I stumbled upon Mary’s, which I had heard good things about during my research. If you’re ever tucked away in the town of Sayulita yourself, you must go here and order the breaded fish tacos. You truly won’t regret it. I savored my tacos and washed them down with a liter of water.

It was at this moment that I was equally happy to have finally made it, but also somewhat lonely—yearning for a travel buddy to share this happiness with. Nonetheless, I did what I do best: I people-watched. I laughed along with the drunk couples on my right. The wives were singing along with the ‘Bob Marley’ guitarist serenading us on the street. The husbands were recording. The sweetest puppy joined me at my table. Granted, he had ulterior motives, but I appreciated the adorable company regardless.

I continued people-watching while walking through the town, then onto the beach. I set down my towel and settled in to watch the sun sink into the water. It was an out-of-this-world sunset, a golden, milky hue that melted into the clouds and created the most picturesque sky. Around me were families singing, lounging, and drinking, most notably, a grandmother and her granddaughter laying in the water, making silly faces at each other. The bond between grandparents and grandchildren holds a special place in my heart. I wonder what it’s like to go to Grandma’s house in every country I visit. What does that bond hold that’s universal, yet unlike any other?

The sun set. I went back to the hostel, played a round of musical trivia, took a tequila shot… then ten more, and danced the night away in town for Techno Tuesday. As lonely as I was eating tacos, the night flipped the script when I met all these amazing people at the hostel. I wasn’t alone, and even when I was alone, I didn’t feel its wrath thanks to the beautiful gift of observation.

If I’ve learned anything about myself on this first day of solo travel, it’s that alone time can be sacred. Getting to know yourself like you do others is a luxury that involves time and effort, and when done, it lets you access a part of yourself that might never reach the surface otherwise. I like these moments of reflection, and the ones that push me to talk to strangers. There’s suddenly no pressure to act a certain way or be “productive” by Western standards, and I fucking love it.

So yeah, take what you will from this recap. Hopefully, you start to solo travel too.