I recently came back from Barcelona. But I can’t tell you much about the beautiful Catalan city’s gothic and modern architecture, its famous Picasso Museum or its majestic Sagrada Familia church.
Instead, I am enthused about its pulsating vibe as locals pound the streets of Avinguda Diagonal on their way to work. I can also describe how the Carmel Bunkers, a viewing point perched on one of the city's many hilltops and a relic of the Spanish Civil War, is a perfect place to watch the sunset with the locals. I can also warn you that Barcelona’s heat is insidious. It creeps up on you until you suddenly feel faint after a day of walking.
These are not exactly Instagrammable moments, but it’s the kind of resonant experiences savoured when travelling alone with an itinerary based on instinct rather than a checklist.
Travelling solo is one of my favourite things to do. Ever since taking the impulsive decision to backpack around Europe as a 20-year-old at the turn of the century, a decision hastened by burnout from work and study commitments, I have taken yearly solo sojourns to physically and emotionally recharge and recalibrate.
I view them as my personal annual general meetings where I have a mental agenda of items I want to think about – whether it's an investment or career decision – and rigorously interrogate them on the long and endless walks seemingly to nowhere. It's refreshing and the clarity felt at the end of 10km walk in foreign places often placed me in good stead.
But solo travel is not only about giving yourself the time to consider things away from the daily hustle and bustle of home. It’s also an opportunity to be still, observe the world around you and give yourself the space to have uncomfortable feelings.
Here is a little a little secret I will share with you: I often hate everything about my travel destination on the first day. The new landscapes, languages, weather and social customs often leave me feeling alienated and lonely. But once I break that mental barrier, often arriving after a restful night’s sleep, each day becomes a discovery.
I do that by not hitting the museums but spending most of the day people-watching in strategically located cafes with flasks of coffee and some newspapers. Whether it's Cafe Charlot in Paris, whose terrace gives you a grand view of the bustling Rue de Bretagne; or Le Nouveau Cafe in Thessaloniki’s Aristotle Square, these sessions provide an insight into the soul of a city you can’t find in any tour.
Also, the best part of the travelling solo is how the seemingly random moments are the most memorable. A chance meeting with a bunch of local musicians in a Budapest jazz bar in 2018 somehow led me to a house party where I hosted a quiz competition because of my supposed journalism background. While four years later, another random encounter with a hip-hop aficionado in a record store in Vienna led to an invite to one of the cool DJ gigs held in a pop-up venue under a bridge.
These are the kinds of moments you just can’t get when you are on a schedule and even harder when travelling with a companion, no matter how seemingly laid back they are. Often, when returning people ask me what I have seen or experienced and my replies are often vague.
How can you explain that while you didn’t see the masterpieces at the museum, you instead took important steps in mastering your sense of self? Or, instead of being in the crowds of a massive music festival, you were more happy walking alone to your own beat? Then again, why do you need to explain anyway?
Solo travel is that gift to yourself that continues to pay off long after you arrive home. More people should try it.
