Why Solo Travel Might Be the Most Underrated Act of Self-Love — and How It Changed Everything for Me
The same place. A new perspective.
Alone, but Never Lonely
There’s a photo of me at 20 years old, standing in Vernazza with windblown hair, a sunburned nose, and a grin that says “I can’t believe I actually did this.”
It was my first solo trip — a train ride from Turin to Cinque Terre with nothing but a backpack and an internal pull I couldn’t ignore. I’d been in Italy for just a few weeks, clinging to the safety of the small friend group I’d made through my study abroad program. But something in me knew I needed to go. Alone.
20 years old, windblown, sunburned, and absolutely clueless — but hiking anyway.
The Hike That Started It All
I arrived in Riomaggiore and hiked the full 10-mile Sentiero Azzurro (Blue Trail), which stitches together five cliffside villages on Italy’s Ligurian coast: Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso al Mare.
I didn’t have some life-altering epiphany. I didn’t suddenly become fearless or wildly wise. What I did feel, though, was a quiet kind of confidence starting to build — one footstep, one village, one solo dinner at a time.
At 20, that trip was the first time I gave myself full permission to just be with myself. No distractions. No performances. No second-guessing. Just me, my thoughts, the trail, and some truly unforgettable views.
The Solo Dinner That Changed Me
After finishing the hike — dusty, tired, and deeply satisfied — all I could think about was food. But as I walked past the charming little waterfront restaurants in Monterosso, I froze. The idea of sitting alone at a table for one felt suddenly intimidating. What would people think? Would they stare? Would I look sad or lonely?
I almost turned around — almost.
But then I caught myself. Seriously, Preet? You just hiked 10 miles alone and you're scared of pasta? I shook it off and walked confidently (okay, semi-confidently) into a restaurant with tables spilling onto a patio overlooking the Ligurian Sea. I asked for a table for one. The host didn’t blink. I sat down, ordered a cold glass of wine and a massive plate of pasta, and watched the sun dip below the water.
Then, something unexpected happened.
An older couple next to me was struggling to take a selfie with the sunset. I offered to help, they laughed and handed me their phone. After I snapped the shot, they asked if I was dining solo and if I wanted to join them for a drink.
Every instinct in me hesitated. Was that weird? Was I intruding? But something nudged me — maybe the same something that nudged me onto this solo trip in the first place — and I grabbed my wine and joined them.
I'll never forget that dinner.
They told me how they met, their favorite travel memories, the chaos and beauty of 50 years of marriage. I shared a little about my own journey, and they listened like it mattered. Before we parted ways, they gave me one of those bits of advice you never expect but always carry with you: “You’re never really alone if you know how to be with yourself.”
What I Didn't Know Then
What I didn’t realize back then was that I was beginning to build a relationship with myself. A relationship rooted in curiosity, independence, and trust.
That solo trip didn’t “change my life” in the way movies might suggest. But it did anchor something inside me — a reference point I’d come back to over and over again in my 20s when I felt lost, unsure, or stuck.
It became proof that I was capable of navigating the unfamiliar. That solitude could be a strength. That I could choose to show up for myself in small, meaningful ways.
A Full-Circle Surprise
This year, as I turned 29 — the final year of my 20s — my boyfriend surprised me with a birthday trip. I didn’t think much of it until he told me where we were going: Cinque Terre.
He remembered the story I’d shared years ago about that trip at 20 — about the train ride, the trail, the solo dinners, the awe. And he wanted to bring me back — not to recreate the moment, but to honor it.
There was something surreal about walking through those villages again, nearly a decade later. I wasn’t trying to “find myself” this time. I’d already grown into someone I’m proud of — someone softer, wiser, more rooted. But being back there reminded me how it all started.
That trip at 20 was an act of self-trust. And this trip at 29 was a reflection of how far that trust has carried me.
This time, I also got to see Cinque Terre from the water cruising past the cliffs on a boat, taking in the pastel villages from a new perspective. The views, already stunning, felt even more magical from the sea. It was a full-circle moment, not just returning, but expanding the memory, adding a new layer of joy and beauty to a place that will forever have a piece of my heart.
A Thought for You
Solo travel might not be for everyone. But carving out space to be alone — to get to know yourself, to explore what brings you joy without outside noise— that’s for all of us.
You don’t have to book a flight across the world to do that. Maybe for you, it’s a solo coffee date. A weekend without plans. A walk with no destination.
Give yourself room to hear your own voice. You might be surprised what it’s been trying to tell you.
Here’s to finding home within yourself, no matter where you are.
With love,
Preet
Preet, I love your letters! This one was my favorite so far
i’m so proud of you <3 this has amazing advice that really struck a chord with me!