“But isn’t it dangerous?” That’s the question I’ve been asked more times than I can count—usually right after telling someone I’m off on another solo adventure. When I first started searching for the safest countries for solo female travellers, I found a sea of generic advice, crime stats, and overly cautious lists that made it sound like the world was just one big, scary place for women travelling alone. Spoiler alert: it is not!
My first truly solo trip (not for work, not for a friend’s wedding, just me and my own questionable sense of direction) was in Spain. I hired a car with no plan other than to drive, explore, and eat my bodyweight in tapas. I’d Google “viewpoint,” head there, and repeat until around 4 pm when I’d frantically search Booking.com for somewhere vaguely nearby to sleep. It wasn’t exactly the most linear route I’ve ever taken, but it was epic—and it helped me discover a whole side of the country I’d never known, despite growing up there as a kid.
My second solo trip? Sierra Leone. Yes, really. And yes, people thought I was completely mad. But spoiler alert: I wasn’t kidnapped, robbed, or eaten by lions (wrong part of the continent for that, anyway). What actually happened was that I was welcomed by some of the friendliest people I’ve ever met, learned a ridiculous amount, and fell in love with a country most people couldn’t place on a map.
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Now, let me be clear: solo female travel and safety aren’t mutually exclusive. Safety doesn’t mean boring. It doesn’t mean locking yourself in a sterile hotel room by 6 pm or only visiting countries with more cows than people. You can have an adventure and be safe. You can explore somewhere wildly new without compromising your comfort—or your curiosity.
This guide isn’t just a list of stats pulled from Google (although yes, I’ve done the research too). It’s a real, honest, experience-based list of the safest countries for solo female travellers, written from the road, not a desk. I’ve walked these streets, caught those buses, and had the awkward conversations in four languages trying to find a toilet. I know what it feels like to be safe in a place—and that’s often very different from what the crime data says.
And finally, safety is personal. What feels totally fine to me might feel risky to you, and vice versa. Our comfort levels are shaped by our past, our personalities, and our privileges. That’s okay. This list isn’t about prescribing where you should go, but rather showing you where you can go—confidently, curiously, and with your adventurous spirit intact.
Let’s get into it.
Ah, the age-old debate: What actually counts as solo travel?
According to the Purists™ (you know the ones), true solo travel means setting off completely alone, avoiding all tours, never joining a group, and preferably hitchhiking your way through a remote jungle while subsisting solely on street food and serendipity. Bonus points if you sleep on strangers’ sofas and have a minor existential crisis somewhere along the way.
And hey, if that’s your vibe—brilliant. But let’s be real: not all of us are looking to achieve “warrior status” with every trip.
For me, solo travel means leaving home on your own, without a partner, friend, or pre-made buddy to lean on. It means being open to connection, especially with locals, even if some of those locals happen to be your guides, your guesthouse hosts, or the chatty grandma who insists you try her stew.
I don’t think joining a local walking tour disqualifies you from calling it solo travel. Nor does hiring a guide for a day, booking into a group hike, or staying in a family-run lodge. In fact, I’d argue it makes the experience better. You get richer insights, build meaningful connections, and—bonus—you’re directly supporting the local economy instead of lining the pockets of giant international chains.
So, let’s stop gatekeeping what solo travel “should” look like. If you left on your own and you’re crafting a journey that feels right for you, then congratulations—you’re a solo traveller.
No warrior status required.
Let’s start with the obvious: safety isn’t just about whether someone’s going to steal your phone (though yes, I’d quite like to keep mine, thanks). When I think about whether a country feels safe for solo female travellers, I’m not poring over crime rates like a nervous statistician—I’m thinking about how it feels to be a woman walking around on my own.
Does anyone notice? Do they care? Am I being stared at, or am I just blending in with the chaos like any other human navigating a new city with Google Maps and a confused face?
The safest countries for solo female travellers, in my experience, tick more boxes than just “low crime.” I look at things like:
• Solo-friendliness: Are there other women travelling alone? Do I feel like I belong, or do I stick out like a llama in a library?
• Walkability: Can I explore on foot without clutching my bag like a Victorian grandmother?
• Public transport: Is it clean, reliable, and doesn’t require me to decode a transport app designed by sadists?
• Healthcare access: If I fall off a scooter or accidentally ingest something spicy enough to burn through my soul, will I be okay?
• Local attitudes toward women: Am I respected or just tolerated? Can I make eye contact without it being misinterpreted as a marriage proposal?
• Ease of communication: Is English (or a language you are fluent in) widely spoken, or will I be forced to rely on mime and interpretive dance?
• Street harassment levels: Because unfortunately, this one really does affect how free you feel to move around.
And then there’s the intangible stuff—my gut instinct. There have been places that look safe on paper but just didn’t sit right. And others where I was technically out of my comfort zone but felt completely at ease, thanks to a kind stranger, a helpful host, or just the general energy of the place.
Local connections make a huge difference too. I’ve been lucky to meet amazing people who’ve introduced me to their communities, shown me around, and helped me see a deeper, more authentic side of a place. When you travel like that, safety often comes naturally—because you’re not just passing through; you’re being welcomed in.
No, no—my idea of safety isn’t based on a colour-coded world map. It’s based on experience. On intuition. And on the simple truth that some places just feel safer to explore solo. And those are the ones I want to share with you next.
Iceland feels like someone took safety, wrapped it in a glacier, sprinkled it with waterfalls, and handed it to solo female travellers with a bow on top. I’ve rarely felt so free to roam wherever I liked, whether it was sunrise hikes or midnight petrol station hot dogs. No catcalling. No hassle. Just space, stars, and scenery that makes you believe in elves.
Top tip: Base yourself in Reykjavik and take day trips to places like the Golden Circle, Vik, or the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. I found using GetYourGuide the most affordable way to explore the island. (INSERT
Female-run highlight: Women-led glacier tours and storytelling walks are easy to find here. (INSERT)
Final thought: You’ll spend more on coffee than crime prevention.
Portugal has that magic mix of warm weather, warm people, and excellent pastries. From Lisbon’s pastel hills to the Algarve’s dramatic cliffs, I’ve always felt comfortable striking up a conversation or strolling alone at golden hour. Bonus: public transport is easy and cheap, even if the train schedules have a slightly “whenever we feel like it” vibe.
And then there’s Madeira—Portugal’s volcanic island in the Atlantic that feels like it was designed for solo adventurers. With its levada hikes, misty mountains, ocean views, and friendly small-town energy, it’s the kind of place where you can walk for hours and end the day with poncha (the local sugarcane liquor) and a conversation with someone’s grandma.
Go for: Lisbon, Porto, Sintra, Tavira, Ericeira, and definitely Madeira if you want adventure with a tropical twist.
Cultural quirk: The Portuguese are polite but not invasive—perfect for solo women who want friendly faces without constant conversation.
Female-run experience: Try a women-owned surf camp in Peniche, a local cooking class in Porto, or a guided hike in Madeira with a female-led tour company.
Final thought: Come for the safety, stay for the custard tarts—and maybe extend your stay for Madeira’s mountains and magic.
Slovenia was never on my radar until I visited—and then I couldn’t shut up about it. It’s the kind of place where you’ll befriend your Airbnb host’s dog and end up on a spontaneous hike by lunch. Compact, clean, and blessed with both Alpine peaks and Adriatic charm, it’s criminally underrated and incredibly easy to navigate solo. It is also the adventure capital of Europe!
Don’t miss: Lake Bled, Ljubljana, and the Soča Valley.
Cultural bonus: Locals are quietly proud and helpful when asked. There’s little street harassment, and English is widely spoken.
Must Do: If you like a slice of adrenaline with your cheese, then head to Bovec and join Ultimate Alps for some water fun!
Ah, Spain. My first true solo trip, and the birthplace of my “Google a viewpoint and drive to it” strategy. While it holds a special place in my heart, I’ll admit it’s also where I had my one and only pickpocketing experience—Barcelona, I’m looking at you. That said, most of Spain is incredibly welcoming and safe, especially outside the major tourist hubs.
Top picks: Andalusia (Granada, Córdoba), the Basque Country, and the Pyrenees.
Cultural quirk: Late dinners and buzzing streets until midnight make solo dining feel totally normal.
Final thought: Keep your bag zipped and your heart open—it’s worth it. Oh, and bring expandable pants, you will need them!
This one’s complicated. Ireland is somewhere I still feel deeply safe travelling solo—despite a traumatic personal experience (my drink was spiked, and you can imagine the rest). And that speaks to the nuance of safety: a country can be warm, kind, and culturally open to women while still having flaws. But the way locals treat you—especially as a woman alone—is what sticks with me. You’re never short of a recommendation, a chat, or someone telling you about their cousin’s B&B. So, despite what happened, I never hesitate to go back, and I never hesitate to recommend Ireland because bad people exist even in the safest of places.
Go for: Galway, Dingle, the Wild Atlantic Way, and the lesser-trodden Midlands.
Cultural vibe: Irish people are the kings and queens of “grand, you’ll be fine,” and somehow, you are.
Final thought: A place can still be safe even if it’s not perfect. And Ireland? It’s magic.
Thailand was one of the first places I visited that made me think, “Yes, I can absolutely do this alone.” It’s got that magical mix of infrastructure, affordability, and friendliness that makes everything feel easy. Plus, you’re never really alone unless you want to be—hostels, markets, and cooking classes are full of potential travel buddies. Do check out Cooking with Poo!
Go for: Chiang Mai for calm culture, Pai for chilled-out vibes, Bangkok for chaos done right, and the islands for a well-earned hammock.
Female-friendly highlight: Loads of women-only dorms, meditation retreats, and women-led day tours.
Final thought: Thailand isn’t just easy—it’s empowering.
Vietnam is one of those countries that’s hectic on the outside but incredibly grounding once you get into its rhythm. I loved the generosity of the locals, the ease of getting around, and the absolute absence of awkwardness around being a woman travelling solo. Whether you’re weaving through Hanoi traffic or hiking in the north, there’s a calm confidence in how Vietnam holds you.
Top picks: Hanoi, Ha Giang, Hoi An, and Phong Nha (a hidden gem for adventure lovers).
Must-Do: Definitely visit the Cu Chi tunnels. The history is truly fascinating.
Cultural quirk: Locals may stare, but it’s usually just curiosity—not judgment. However, one woman did grab my boob once to compare my size to hers! I was not quite sure how to react to that!
Final thought: If comfort food were a country, it’d be Vietnam with a side of pho.
Cambodia has an honesty about it—things aren’t always polished, but they’re real. I found people kind, respectful, and quietly protective of solo travellers. From tuk-tuk drivers to market sellers, everyone seemed to look out for me in that subtle “we’ve got you” kind of way. There’s also a softness in Cambodia’s spiritual side that makes it easy to slow down and connect.
Go for: Siem Reap (beyond just Angkor Wat), Kampot, and quiet island escapes like Koh Rong Samloem.
Female-run experience: Women-run social enterprises like Soksabike and art cafés in Phnom Penh.
Final thought: If you’re after connection over curation, Cambodia will move you.
Nepal isn’t just safe—it’s transformational. From chaotic Kathmandu to the quiet trails of the Annapurna region, I felt respected, curious, and never out of place. Yes, the roads can be wild, and no, you’re not going to leave without getting dusty. But what you gain in personal growth more than makes up for the minor logistics.
Top picks: Kathmandu, Pokhara, and the Everest Base Camp trek if you fancy questioning all your life choices (and then being glad you did).
Cultural note: Modest dress is appreciated, and local women are your best cultural guides.
Best Female Guide: If you want to hike with an inspiring woman, then reach out to Target Himalaya and ask for Kamala. Honestly, the best!
Final thought: Nepal doesn’t coddle you—it challenges you. And that’s where the magic is.
China often gets a bad rap, but travelling there taught me more about patience, culture, and people than almost anywhere else. It’s not the easiest place logistically (hello, firewalls and limited English), but once you break through the initial barriers, you’ll find generosity, safety, and more ancient wonder than your camera roll can handle.
Best regions: Yunnan for off-the-beaten-path beauty, Beijing for culture, Xi’an for history, Chengdu for pandas, and Guilin for postcard landscapes.
Female-friendly tip: Apps like Pleco (for translation) and a good VPN are lifesavers.
Top Tip: Personal space is not common, so when you get pulled into photos, or someone starts touching your hair, don’t take it for any more than what it is: curiosity.
Final thought: China can be overwhelming, yes—but it’s also unforgettable in the best way. Maybe not the best country to travel solo, but if you are a seasoned traveller I wouldn’t shy away from it.
I haven’t been everywhere in Asia (yet – keyword yet), but some countries get so consistently glowing reviews from other solo female travellers that I couldn’t leave them out. So, while I can’t vouch for these ones from personal experience just yet, I’ve heard enough praise from women I trust to give them honorary mention status.
Japan is what happens when someone designs a country for introverts who love public transport. It’s spotless, wildly efficient, and so safe that a friend of mine once left her phone in a Tokyo café and found it waiting for her exactly where she had left it an hour later—untouched. No one bats an eye at a solo woman eating ramen, navigating temples, or talking to a vending machine (which, yes, sometimes talks back).
Go for: Tokyo for the culture shock, Kyoto for the temples, and Nara for the deer who will politely headbutt you for snacks.
Female-friendly feature: Women-only train carriages during rush hour. Also, capsule hotels now offer female-only floors.
Final thought: You’ll never feel invisible—but you’ll feel respectfully ignored, and that’s kind of glorious.
South Korea is one of those places where you can be completely alone without ever feeling lonely. The infrastructure is excellent, safety levels are high, and as a solo woman, you’ll rarely get so much as a sideways glance. It’s also one of the best destinations for eating alone—Koreans are big fans of solo BBQs. Yes, really.
Top picks: Seoul for the buzz, Busan for the beaches, Jeonju for the food coma.
Cultural tip: Locals are polite but reserved—respect and quiet confidence go a long way.
Final thought: Come for K-pop curiosity and stay for kimchi and kindness.
Africa is one of those continents people love to warn you about—usually without having ever set foot on it. But in reality, it’s home to some of the most welcoming, soul-stirring places I’ve travelled. Yes, safety can be more complex here, but it’s also where I’ve experienced the deepest kindness, the biggest laughs, and the strongest solo confidence. Here are five countries where I’ve felt genuinely safe as a solo female traveller:
Rwanda is so calm and well-run that I experienced reverse culture shock when I travelled there from Tanzania. It’s one of the cleanest places I’ve ever been (plastic bags are illegal), women are visibly empowered, and there’s an unspoken layer of respect for solo women. And yes, I once felt safe enough to say yes to a spontaneous multi-day road trip with a taxi driver I met in Kigali—one of my favourite decisions ever.
Go for: Kigali’s creative scene, Volcanoes National Park for gorilla trekking, and the peaceful shores of Lake Kivu.
Female-forward bonus: Rwanda has one of the highest percentages of women in government in the world.
Final thought: If safety were a feeling, it would be the ease of walking Kigali’s quiet streets at dusk.
Kenya is a solo travel powerhouse—especially once you find your rhythm. Nairobi can be intense (okay, very intense), but it also has pockets of creativity, calm, and community. Once you’re outside the city, the landscape opens up, and so does the warmth. It’s a country that rewards confidence and curiosity in equal measure.
Top picks: Nairobi (stick to safe neighbourhoods), the Maasai Mara for safaris, and the coast near Diani for downtime. I’ve explored “beyond the safe neighbourhoods”. I recommend you have a read.
Cultural insight: People are friendly but direct—set your boundaries, and you’ll be golden.
Must-Do Activity: Join the Nai Nami Nairobi Tour. Honestly, it is the best thing you will do in Kenya!
Final thought: Kenya doesn’t baby you—but it will back you if you let it.
There’s something about Tanzania that just feels soft—people greet you like an old friend, whether you’re in a village or a city. I’ve walked alone, taken long-distance buses, and hosted group tours here, and the respect and kindness I’ve received as a solo woman has been remarkable. Even in the bustle of Arusha, I felt seen, not scrutinised.
Go for: Zanzibar, Moshi (hello, Kilimanjaro), and hidden gems like Bagamoyo or the Usambara Mountains.
Female-run finds: Look for community tourism initiatives and women-led walking tours—they’re doing amazing work.
Best Safari: If you are in Tanzania for a safari, then you need to contact Malaki. He is the best!
Final thought: Tanzania holds you gently, even when the roads don’t. African massage anyone?
Senegal is vibrant, colourful, and genuinely welcoming. From the music echoing through Dakar’s streets to the peaceful fishing villages along the coast, I felt respected, safe, and surprisingly relaxed. People may approach you to chat or sell something, but it never felt pushy or unsafe—just part of the rhythm of life here.
Best for: Dakar, Saint-Louis, Île de Gorée, and the beach towns of Toubab Dialaw and Popenguine.
Cultural tip: French helps (a lot), but kindness goes even further.
Final thought: Senegal is warm in every sense of the word.
This tiny country packs a punch. I felt completely at ease travelling solo in Eswatini—whether hiking through peaceful nature reserves or chatting with locals at roadside stalls. It’s not a common backpacker route, which makes it feel even more special—and perhaps even safer, as everyone seems genuinely happy you’ve chosen to visit.
Top spots: Ezulwini Valley, Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary, and cultural villages for a real glimpse into Swazi life.
Female traveller insight: People are curious but never intrusive.
Final thought: Eswatini proves that small doesn’t mean simple—it means quietly spectacular.
Some countries didn’t make the main list, not because I didn’t feel safe—but because safety there comes with a few more layers. Still, they left lasting impressions and deserve to be recognised:
Egypt – One uncomfortable experience with a driver could have tainted the trip… but then the true Egyptian hospitality showed up. Locals stepped in, looked out for me, and reminded me why Egypt remains one of my all-time favourite solo adventures. The generosity is real—just stay assertive and trust your gut.
Sierra Leone – The people? Honestly, some of the kindest I’ve ever met. But there’s often an expectation—help, money, a job—which means you can’t fully let your guard down. That said, I still love it deeply and always feel emotionally safe, even if I stay mentally alert. You can read my Sierra Leone Guide here.
South Africa – This isn’t a solo female safety issue so much as a general one. The reality is that South Africa has complex safety dynamics. And yet… I’ve picked up a hitchhiker, walked alone in parts of Cape Town, and experienced nothing but kindness. Travel smart, get local advice, and don’t write it off—it’s a powerful, perspective-shifting place.
Lesotho – The violence against women stats will scare you. The people won’t. I expected to be cautious and left with a full heart. Whether in mountain villages or roadside cafés, I was treated with openness and respect. Sometimes, the places that look risky on paper are the ones that surprise you most.
Canada is like that polite friend who always holds the door open and apologises when you bump into them. It’s effortlessly solo-friendly, from big cities to tiny mountain towns. I’ve wandered around Toronto at midnight and hiked solo in Banff without a flicker of worry—except about bears, but that’s more of a “read the sign, clap your hands, and carry on” kind of thing.
Top picks: Vancouver for chill city vibes, Banff and Jasper for jaw-dropping nature, and Quebec City if you want your safety with a French accent.
Female-run finds: Women-led wilderness tours, outdoor adventure groups, and plenty of cosy hostels with women-only dorms.
Final thought: If kindness were a country, it’d be wearing a flannel and handing you a Timbit.
Argentina surprised me. Sure, it’s big and dramatic, but it’s also relatively easy to travel solo. Buses are long but safe and comfy (some even serve wine), and the culture leans heavily on socialising—so you’re rarely alone for long. Buenos Aires has its chaotic moments, but I always found that confidence and curiosity go a long way here.
Go for: Buenos Aires’ culture, Mendoza’s vineyards, Bariloche’s lakes, Iguazu for the waterfalls, and Patagonia’s wild edge.
Cultural tip: Keep your bag close in cities, but don’t be afraid to chat with locals—they’ll talk your ear off, in the best way.
Final thought: Solo doesn’t mean solitary in Argentina—you’ll be tangoing with strangers before you know it.
The USA can be tricky to sum up—it’s not one country; it’s 50 wildly different ones duct-taped together with fast food and freedom. Safety here really depends on where you go and how well you plan. That said… it’s also the country where I’ve experienced the best hospitality of my entire solo travel life.
We’re talking free meals, spontaneous road trip invitations, homestays with strangers-turned-friends, and more “You gotta meet my cousin!” moments than I could count. I’ve been taught how to shoot guns (yes, safely), how to do doughnuts in a truck (less safely), and had long, hilarious conversations about aliens, COVID-19, JFK, and every other conspiracy theory under the sun.
Top safe bets: Nebraska, Oklahoma, Florida, Vermont, New Mexico, small-town Utah, and pretty much anywhere that’s not a tourist hotspot or a big-city grey zone.
Cultural insight: Americans love a story—and if you’re a solo female traveller, you are a story. Say yes to invitations (within reason), and you’ll come away with new friends, strange skills, and a fresh view of the world.
Final thought: It’s a country of contradictions—but kindness, in my experience, always wins. I recommend you read about the time I thought I’d booked into a crack den!
The only other country I have been to in the Americas is Brazil, but I didn’t go solo, and safety is rather nuanced there, so I will wait to comment on it until I explore more of it on my own.
(Disclaimer: I haven’t personally made it to this part of the world—yet—but I’ve done enough research and spoken to enough solo female travellers to know which places rise to the top when it comes to safety, ease, and good vibes.)
If solo travel had a spiritual home, it might just be New Zealand. Nearly every woman I’ve spoken to who’s been has said the same thing: “I felt completely safe.” Whether you’re hiking through Middle Earth-style mountains, road-tripping in a camper van, or sheep-watching (which is a legit pastime), New Zealand welcomes solo women with open arms and organised trail maps.
Best bits: Queenstown for adrenaline junkies, Wellington for culture, and anywhere in between for scenery that looks CGI’d.
Female-friendly feature: Excellent hostel networks and women-led adventure companies.
Final thought: If you want to travel solo without worrying about safety, New Zealand’s your passport to peace of mind.
Australia is the kind of place where strangers will help you fix a flat tyre, invite you for a barbecue, and give you a nickname within five minutes. Yes, it’s huge. Yes, the spiders are real. But so is the solo travel friendliness. From coastal cities to red desert heartlands, women travelling alone are a totally normal (and well-supported) sight.
Go for: Melbourne’s café culture, Sydney’s beaches, and the Great Ocean Road for the ultimate solo drive.
Cultural tip: Aussies are casual and open—conversations are easy, and so is asking for help.
Final thought: Come for the kangaroos, stay for the community.
Samoa is often overlooked, which makes it perfect for solo travellers craving authenticity. Reports from fellow travellers rave about how welcoming locals are, how peaceful the islands feel, and how easy it is to slow down. It’s not about five-star resorts—it’s about real connection and cultural immersion.
Top picks: Upolu and Savai’i for beaches, waterfalls, and village life.
Solo-friendly vibe: You’ll be looked after like family in locally-run guesthouses.
Final thought: Samoa isn’t flashy—it’s heartfelt, honest, and healing.
Fiji might conjure images of honeymooners, but it’s surprisingly great for solo travellers too—especially those looking for a balance between relaxation and cultural exchange. Local-run hostels and eco-resorts offer community without pressure, and island-hopping ferries make travel easy (and ridiculously scenic).
Don’t miss: Nadi for markets, the Yasawa Islands for snorkelling and solitude.
Cultural tip: Fijians are famously friendly—expect to be greeted like an old friend wherever you go.
Final thought: Come solo, leave with 14 new WhatsApp contacts and a fresh tan.
Vanuatu is a place where time slows down, and the safety lies in simplicity. It’s quiet, culturally rich, and full of natural beauty. Solo female travellers report feeling incredibly safe and well cared for by locals, who take hospitality seriously and warmly welcome outsiders.
Explore: Port Vila, Tanna Island (for live volcanoes), and hidden beaches with no one but a wandering chicken in sight.
Solo travel bonus: You’ll never be rushed—and never be alone unless you want to be.
Final thought: If your soul needs a digital detox in a place that’s safe, serene, and real—Vanuatu is your girl.
Let’s be honest: if one more article tells me to “avoid dark alleys”, I might actually scream. I mean… yes, obviously. But solo female travel is so much more nuanced than that. These tips are pulled straight from real-life experience—triumphs, mishaps, and a few “what on earth am I doing?” moments along the way.
Because when you’re navigating a new country solo, it’s the small, clever habits that really make a difference.
Wi-Fi will fail. SIM cards will be confusing. And at some point, your phone will die right as you’re trying to find that one hidden riad down five unlabelled alleyways.
The trick? Search the city or region in Google Maps while you do have Wi-Fi, then click “Download.” Voilà! You’ve got a full offline map at your fingertips—blue dot and all.
Bonus tip: Star your hotel, main landmarks, and a good coffee shop. You’ll never be lost-lost again.
I didn’t realise how game-changing these little trackers were until I had a tour guest in Kenya who kept… wandering. Lovely woman. Absolutely no sense of direction. So we popped an AirTag in her bag, and suddenly, I could locate her without panicking or launching a nationwide search.
You can use them for:
• Your luggage (no more guessing if it made it off the plane)
• Your day bag
• Yourself—if you’re travelling with someone who needs to find you again
Trust me: It’s the kind of tech that feels slightly creepy… until it saves your sanity.
From tuk-tuks in Cambodia to dala-dalas in Tanzania, local transport often gets a bad rap. But it’s usually the best way to meet people, save money, and see the world unfold beyond the window.
What I’ve learned:
• Always ask your hotel/hostel staff how they get around. They’ll steer you right.
• Sit near other women if you’re unsure—it’s a quiet safety trick that goes a long way.
• Keep small change. You’ll need it, and you’ll look infinitely more local.
Ah, the classic: “Just wear a fake wedding ring and say you’ve got a husband waiting at home.”
Spoiler: I don’t wear one.
That said, I do say I’m married if I’m asked—or if someone’s asking me out… or proposing… or insisting I’d make a great second wife. For most of my solo travels, I’ve actually had a partner at home (and still do), so technically, it’s not even a lie. It’s just… easier. The word “husband” carries a kind of international authority that “no thanks” sometimes doesn’t. And in some cultures, saying, “My husband doesn’t allow it” carries even more weight.
What I don’t do? Pretend I’m travelling with someone or about to meet up with a man unless my gut tells me it’s necessary. I’d rather own the fact that I’m a woman travelling solo—because I am—and 99% of the time, that’s totally fine. But when that 1% crops up and something feels off, I’ll absolutely whip out an imaginary spouse and a waiting group of “friends just around the corner.”
The rule? You don’t owe anyone the truth. You owe yourself peace of mind.
This one takes practice. Sometimes, you’ll feel anxious simply because you’re doing something new. Other times, your gut will scream at you—and you won’t know why.
Here’s my rule:
• Fear says, “This is unfamiliar.”
• Intuition says, “Something’s not right.”
The more you travel, the better you’ll get at telling the two apart. And in the meantime, never ignore that little voice—even if it turns out to be a false alarm. Worst case? You took the long way home. Best case? You avoided something you’ll never need to know about.
Solo travel didn’t just show me the world—it showed me myself. And no, I don’t mean that in a yoga-on-a-cliff-at-sunset kind of way. I mean that travelling alone taught me what I’m capable of. How resourceful I can be. How to trust my gut, my feet, and my somewhat questionable sense of direction. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever given myself.
But here’s the thing: I wasn’t fearless when I started. I’m not fearless now. I get nervous. I triple-check the locks. I occasionally forget where I am and have that moment of “Oh god, what am I doing here?” But then I remember: I’m here because I chose to be. Because the rewards always outweigh the wobbles.
There’s a big difference between being safe and feeling safe. You can follow every guidebook rule and still feel uneasy. Or you can be in a new, unfamiliar place and suddenly feel this deep, calm sense of “I’ve got this.”
The safest countries for solo female travellers aren’t just about stats—they’re about spaces that help you grow in confidence. Places where you can take up space, explore at your own pace, and experience the kind of joy that comes from doing something that once scared you.
So don’t aim to be fearless. Aim to feel strong. Curious. Capable.
Because solo travel isn’t about proving anything to anyone else. It’s about proving to yourself that you can trust yourself wherever in the world you land.
So now you’ve got the list, the tips, and the mindset—what’s stopping you?
Whether you’re ready to wander through Icelandic landscapes, sip coffee in Lisbon, or dance awkwardly with strangers in Vietnam (highly recommend), the world is waiting for you. And the safest countries for solo female travellers aren’t just “safe”—they’re spectacular.
If you’ve been teetering on the edge of booking that ticket, consider this your sign. Not because it’ll be perfect or predictable, but because it’ll be yours. A solo trip is never truly solo anyway—you’ll meet people who restore your faith in humanity, challenge your worldview, and probably help you find your lost charger.
If you’re not sure where to start, check out some of my other destination-specific safety guides, like Is Nepal Safe for Solo Female Travellers? or A Safety Breakdown of the Countries I’ve visited in Africa, where I break it all down—from cultural expectations to personal stories to the real, unfiltered experience of navigating it all solo.
Have questions? Drop a comment. Message me. Send me your destination dilemmas or safety concerns. I’m always happy to chat—and sometimes, I even have useful answers.
Now go on. Be bold. Be curious. Be adventurous.
Where will you go first?
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