The Truth About Solo Travel That No One Talks About
I wouldn’t trade the year I solo-traveled the world for anything. The people I met, the knowledge gained, the growth I saw in myself, the experiences lived and the memories made were priceless.
My entire journey was perfectly balanced: I practiced being extremely social through constant interaction with strangers and fellow international travelers at each Workaway, but I also practiced a great deal of quiet, independent solitude. Between volunteer jobs, I’d hop on a train/bus to a neighboring city and spend a few days exploring on my own. I’ve always considered myself fairly independent, so this wasn’t a challenge. I actually looked forward to my days alone to take a break from the constant meeting and mingling with other volunteers. I will cherish each 1:1 date I spent with just me and whatever city I was in, though sometimes I couldn’t help but think how meaningful it would’ve been to share my amazing experiences with someone.
People often wondered and only a few actually asked, “Don’t you feel lonely?” Of course, I felt lonely. Throughout my journey, I was flooded with amazement, unbelief, deep joy and pure bliss of every long-haul train ride, every mountain that stood before me and every sight that took my breath away. But when I would spend days alone, those sensations were also mixed with feelings of longing and yearning for human connection and companionship. I sat with every thought that ran through my head but had no one to share it with.
I spent four, soul-stirring days solo exploring the magical Jeju Island, South Korea, and I distinctly remember a monumental moment on top of Seongsan Ilchulbong, a UNESCO Natural World Heritage Site and extinct tuff volcano. That afternoon was rainy, but I was determined to make the most of my short time there and decided to embark on this hike anyway. I hopped aboard a long bus ride and was on my way to stomp around a volcano.
With rain slapping my face as I trudged against the wind up countless staircases, using the little breath I had left in me, I summited the peak. I was elated. Looking down at the misty city below, I smiled in awe, relief and accomplishment.
However, I was the only one atop this volcano, and I wanted so badly to laugh with someone … cheer … shout to the city below! I looked around with a grin — a 360-degree view of nothing but green hills, mountains, ocean and a quiet town below, but not a soul in sight. Excitement hit me hard, but so did the loneliness.
It’s feelings like this remind you that even the most stunning sights lose some luster when there’s no one beside you to share the awe.
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As a solo traveler, sometimes a peculiar ache settles when you find yourself alone in a faraway place. It’s not just homesickness, but a deeper yearning for human connection. You feel it in crowded markets where laughter and chatter swirl around you in unfamiliar tongues. It gnaws at you in quiet cafés as you watch locals share intimate moments over steaming cups of coffee. For some, this longing can be like a constant companion, whispering in your ear as you gaze at breathtaking vistas or ancient wonders.
You find yourself drawn to bustling squares and parks, not for the attractions themselves, but for the proximity to others. You’ll strike up conversations with fellow travelers and locals alike, savoring these fleeting connections.
Personally, I was exhausted by the end of each day, so I’d fall asleep with ease. For some, however, as they lie in an unfamiliar bed surrounded by unfamiliar people or no one at all, the silence can amplify the loneliness. You long for the comfort of familiar voices, the warmth of a loved one’s embrace, or even just the reassuring presence of someone nearby.
The solo moments I experienced taught me countless sentiments about myself, how I fit into the world, culture, society and people. With this, they also taught me that being solo is no way to live.
God designed humans to live in community — to support one another, lift each other and grow together. Praise Him forever, together. Humans need other humans — we’re a social species.
I took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t completely alone, for I always had God. He’s the best companion there is, but I never walked around the streets having a full-blown conversation with Him aloud. That’d probably make me schizophrenic.
This longingness that many feel serves as a poignant reminder that while solo travel can be liberating and eye-opening, it’s the people we meet and the relationships we forge that truly give meaning to our journeys. The people really do make the place.
