During the planning of this trip, I experienced a ton of anxiety and was constantly unsettled. After all, why leave the stability, safety, and security of my life in New York for the unknown? My peak stress level hit in early April. I had a million things to do—pack, move, buy flight tickets, get vaccinations, etc., etc.—and The New York Times decided to publish an article about the recent rise in solo female travel. The title? “Adventurous. Alone. Attacked.” 😑

Once I read the article, (I live and breathe by The NYTimes, but don’t think I’ll ever forgive them for that one), I definitely was a little nervous about the potential danger I might encounter on the road. But the thing that made me even more scared was the second word of that headline: being alone—and not just for safety reasons. I’m an extrovert, happiest when I’m with friends and family. When I’m by myself, I don’t recharge … I feel drained, sad, melancholy. How was I supposed to survive for months on my own? 

Surprisingly, this worry of mine hasn’t really materialized. That’s partially because I peer pressured some amazing friends into traveling with me for the first month and a half to help me get my sea legs (thanks, ya’ll!!).

These are my friends

But it’s also because traveling makes everyone super welcoming. Friendlier. More open. It’s a process that draws even the most reticent individuals out of their shells—and forces everyone else to endure awkward encounters that they would otherwise avoid in their actual lives. In the city, I would never visit a bar by myself. But in hostels, I go alone all the time, chit-chatting with bartenders and playing drinking Jenga with fresh faces. In the real world, it’d be rare for me to to hang out or travel with someone I just met. But down here, those rules don’t apply. I’ve spent the day getting meals with total strangers I’ll never see again, and I’ve traveled with newfound acquaintances who quickly become fast friends. The whole experience reminds me of returning to childhood—that fun, carefree time completely unencumbered by formality or social constructs. A few years ago, my cousin brought her then-five-year-old daughter, Claire, to New Jersey for a couple days. To keep her entertained, we took her to the park. Within minutes, she had found a buddy. Together, they swung, tagged, and monkey-barred for over an hour. And when we left, Claire pleaded: “Can we come back tomorrow, so I can play with my friend again?!” Traveling makes making amigos as easy as it was when you were kindergarten.

These are some new friends:

There are, of course, times that are less social than others. In Cusco, I uncomfortably dined alone for the first time in my life at a crowded French creperie. In La Serena, I was the only guest in my eight-person dorm room, and in Sucre, I was the only visitor in my whole hostel … both times left me stir crazy days. And during my tour through the breathtaking salt flats of southern Bolivia, I was placed in a group with two couples who were so lovely—but, on occasion, I couldn’t help feeling like a true fifth wheel. 

In other moments, being alone has just been plain inconvenient. In airports or bus terminals, there’s no one to watch my bags when I have to use the bathroom. At major attractions, there’s no token picture-taker, so sometimes selfies have to suffice. And in South America, there aren’t a ton of takeout options—so if I don’t want to eat in a restaurant por mi mismo (which I often don’t), I’ll order yet another empanada to go … and while I do love them, I have to admit that my go-to solo meal is getting kind of old. 

An accurate representation of my trip … but even I have a limit

Many of these experiences have inevitably been lonely. But they’ve also enabled me to feel incredibly independent … and taught me to actually appreciate my solitude—something I didn’t fully understand how to do before. Since the beginning of my trip, I’ve taken chocolate-making classes where I’ve been the only student. I’ve purchased Pisco tasting tickets for one. And oftentimes, these activities are rewarding for me. In these moments, it can be refreshing to truly travel solo—and I’m proud of myself for learning how to be on my own. 

Basically had a private, one-on-one chocolate-making lesson … not a bad deal

But, at the end of the day, I’m still a people person. That’s not changing any time soon. Lucky for me, every new city, hostel, and tour offers endless opportunities to keep the conversations rolling and the relationships growing. Andddd I’ve still got a few months left to go—so if any of you fine folks want to come down and keep me company along the way, I’d be the happiest. (I’ll keep you posted on where I’m headed next!)

Salud, chicos!

Caroline