i never understood the worry about travelling solo;
as if being alone means being lonely, as if the sea won’t glitter unless someone else names it.

solo travel stitches me back together with languages i can’t speak and sunsets i can’t keep. i’ve watched the sun rise without a witness, and it still spilled gold across my face. it teaches me that silence can laugh too, that there’s a secret kind of happiness in getting lost where no one can find me. it teaches me that silence can sparkle too. i find pieces of myself in places i never meant to leave them. and i’ve left them in places that never asked for them:
a laugh in prague,
a smile in tokyo,
a tear in quito,
a love in lunenburg.

the roads don’t fix me. they just keep me company while i learn how to.
i give myself permission to dance before the music starts; not to chase happiness, but to invite it to sit beside me while i live.

each solo journey whispers, “you’re allowed to choose yourself.”
and as i walk without a plan, i find everything i didn’t know i was looking for.
you think you need someone to share a sunset with, but the truth is, some skies are best embraced alone.

i find happiness in places no one thinks to look:
in quiet bus rides,
in salt-soaked air,
in the freedom of walking without a map,
in meals eaten with sunburnt shoulders,
in the sound of my own laughter echoing down unfamiliar streets,
in the moment i realize i’ve made it somewhere entirely on my own.
it is a joy that is quiet, but fierce.
private, but whole.

so no, i don’t understand the worry.
because travelling solo taught me that my own company is not just enough,
it is everything.