Have you ever heard the TikTok sound from ‘Made In Chelsea’ where they discuss someone saying she “found herself in Bali”?
“Well, yeah, cause you’re on holiday. Most of us are our true selves on holiday.”
It’s just another viral clip, but I think about it all the time. As someone lucky enough to be well travelled, first in childhood and more recently by myself – I don’t think I ever found a moment of ‘self-discovery’ overseas. What I found was independence. Bravery. Curiosity. A genuine contentment in my own company.
Solo travel is often romanticised as some spiritual awakening, but most of the time it’s not quite that dramatic. It’s not about becoming a new person, it’s about strengthening the person you already are. No one else is shaping the day for you, and you realise how capable you can be.
In early 2022, I had a trip planned to Singapore with my roommate and close friend at the time. It was my first international flight without my parents, booked in the strange post-lockdown period just before I moved from Brisbane to Melbourne. Two days before we were meant to leave, she cancelled.
I was completely thrown. My mum and sister told me not to worry about going, friends offered to plan another trip in the future, and for about twenty-four hours I accepted that the holiday simply wasn’t happening anymore.
Then my dad looked at me and asked, genuinely confused, “Why can’t you just go alone?”
I remember scrambling for an answer. I’m only twenty. What if I get lonely? What if something goes wrong? But I’m terrible at admitting defeat, so almost out of stubbornness, I decided to go.
And once those flood gates opened? Oh I never turned back.
For the first time, every decision was mine. I could spend three hours wandering through a bookshop without someone waiting for me outside. I could eat where I wanted, walk as far as I wanted, and change plans halfway through the day without negotiating with anyone else. I realised how much of group travel revolves around compromise. Often, a good compromise, but a compromise nonetheless.
I also started noticing how much my personal taste expanded when nobody else was around to influence it. I walk everywhere when I travel — sometimes 20 or 30 kilometres a day — usually with headphones on, and every trip seems to leave me with a completely new soundtrack. I find artists I never would’ve discovered at home, buy clothes I normally wouldn’t wear, walk into tiny independent stores just because they catch my eye. When you’re alone, your choices become incredibly honest. There’s nobody else to impress, accommodate, or mirror. You start paying attention to what you actually like.
When you travel alone, there’s nobody else to absorb the responsibility of the day. You navigate unfamiliar transport systems yourself. You decide when and where to change trains, whether to speak to strangers, try a new restaurant, get lost on purpose or spend the night doing absolutely nothing. Confidence is almost forced upon you, through quiet repetition. You learn to start trusting your own judgement.
To me, that is the real ‘magic’ and self-discovery of solo travel. Autonomy and self-trust.
People often assume being alone a lot means I’m lonely, but I’ve often felt more isolated when travelling with the wrong people. After doing it myself, I actually found some group trips more difficult. Certain friendships become strangely claustrophobic, especially when people rely on me to determine the whole day and manage their expectations because they are uncomfortable doing things independently.
The best travel companions aren’t people who need you; they’re people who choose to share an experience with you while still being capable of existing separately within it. I love travelling with my best friend, maybe even more so than on my own, because I know I could say “I’m going to explore this museum for a few hours, do you want to come or meet me later?” without her taking it personally. Real independence isn’t rejecting others, it’s knowing your ability to enjoy life doesn’t disappear when nobody else is there.
Maybe that’s a Sagittarius thing, but if you’re a fellow Sag I imagine you know all about solo travel, and don’t need this article to convince you.
Solo travel changed the way I move through the world. I’m less afraid of uncertainty, less hesitant to start a conversation. More comfortable in making my own choices and standing in them.
It’s probably one of the reasons I eventually moved from Australia to London. Living here still feels slightly surreal sometimes. The fact that I can decide on a Friday to spend the weekend in Amsterdam or Paris and be back home by Monday never quite loses its novelty.
And maybe that’s the real guarantee: not the travelling itself, but the feeling of possibility. The understanding that your world becomes much bigger the moment you realise you’re capable of navigating it alone.
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