I remember the first time I stepped off a plane into a new country alone. I was 21, and the citywas Berlin, where the scent of fresh pretzels filled the air and the streets were splashed with graffiti. This was my first solo adventure, aside from family trips and time away at university. People brushed past me, strangers weaving in and out on cobbled streets as I used a wrinkled map to find my hostel, a feat that had felt daunting at the time. But I was determined. I wanted to inhale this freedom that was free from anyone else’s schedule or expectations. I could go, see, eat, and wander as I pleased. The purpose of this trip was solely exploration.
This was the beginning of my love affair with solo travel; the anticipation, the nerves, the excitement. Each time I mention I’m heading out alone, I’m met with raised eyebrows, hushed concerns, and the occasional question: Why travel solo when you could be in a group? Yes, traveling with loved ones has its own joy, but there is a singular, almost rebellious magic in walking a new city alone.
As a South Asian woman, I grew up hearing constant warnings about where I could go, how late I could stay out, and whom I could trust. In a society where a woman’s movement can be restrictive, freedom felt conditional. Travel changed that. Suddenly, thousands of miles from home, I found myself in a place where I could take up space unapologetically, sit by a fountain and lazily watch the world go by, for no other reason than pure enjoyment.
On my first solo venture, I met extraordinary people at the opera who would later become friends. I traced the history of the Berlin Wall with my own feet, tasted foods I had never imagined, and savoured each experience at my own pace. This trip helped uncover my passion for traveling and opened my eyes to how much remains to be discovered in every city, on every street. In literature, we often encounter the term flâneur, the archetypal male observer, wandering the streets. Seldom do we hear flâneuse, the feminine counterpart, because women rarely, if at all, occupied public space historically. I have always wanted to claim this word for myself.
From the first journey onwards, solo travel has offered me autonomy and something else: the gift of uninterrupted introspection. Traveling alone, surrounded by ever-changing landscapeshas, on multiple occasions, given me space to discover who I am and what I love. It creates a temporal vacuum, a pause between obligations, where I can learn step outside my life and gain clarity. There are, of course, challenging moments (getting onto the wrong train, losing cash, ending up alone in a dodgy area at midnight, and so on), but each one carries its own lessons.
Since then, I have had the privilege and pleasure of visiting many countries, some solo and some with people I love. While it can be nerve-wracking to find yourself as your own sole companion, over time, you realize that it can be both cathartic and revelatory. Solo travel has been my quiet rebellion. My gift to myself. It has made me feel less alone, as I witness the vastness of the world and the tiny space each of us occupies within it. It has introduced me tosome wonderful people and their stories and has given me perspective, reminding me
that the burdens we carry, though heavy in the moment, are usually just a blip. It is at once, humbling, and enlightening.
Just as travel teaches us empathy and opens our eyes to how different people live and think, solo travel reveals how we, however small, contribute to the world and how much there still is to learn. There is clarity in solitude and something profoundly peaceful about sitting in a new city, listening to the chirping birds, sipping a latte, and mapping out your journey before returning to everyday life, utterly grateful for the experience.
Sarah Khan
Sarah is a published writer and seasoned creative consultant with over twenty years of experience at leading global agencies, including Saatchi & Saatchi and Landers. Herwriting, ranging from short fiction to lifestyle essays and feminist commentary, has beenfeatured in publications such as Womena Magazine, The Tribune, Writing Women, Faces of Motherhood, and HuffPost. She is an avid reader and suffers from a relentless case of wanderlust.
