People often say that solo travel is the ultimate journey of self-discovery, but that phrase can sound a little too neat. My first proper solo trip did not begin with a desire to “find myself.” It began because I had reached a point where I could no longer cope with work, my mental health had collapsed, and my personal life was beginning to unravel.
My boss told me to take a month off and go travelling. So, in 2021, I got in my car and started driving around Spain without much of a plan. I had travelled alone for work before and had moved abroad at 17, but this was different. Nobody was waiting for me at the other end, and there was no schedule telling me what to do next.
What I discovered was not a new, fearless version of myself. I discovered that being overwhelmed with work did not mean I was overwhelmed with life. Away from the pressures that had consumed me, I could still make decisions, talk to strangers, laugh, explore and enjoy my own company.
That realisation changed far more than the trip itself.
What's in this post:
Why does solo travel encourage self-discovery?
When you travel with someone else, your days naturally become a series of joint decisions. Where should we eat? What should we see? Are we tired? Do we both want to stay another night? There is comfort in sharing those choices, but there is also less space to notice what you would choose without somebody else influencing you.
Travelling alone removes that safety net. You quickly learn whether you enjoy your own company, how you respond when plans go wrong and what genuinely interests you when nobody is there to approve, complain or suggest an alternative. It can be uncomfortable, but discomfort is often where the most useful learning happens.
Self-discovery looks different for everyone. For some people, it comes through journalling or long walks, while others prefer to explore personality, spirituality or intuition as part of that journey. The Nebula website offers articles on self-reflection and different approaches to personal growth, making it an interesting companion if you’re curious about understanding yourself from a different perspective.
Solo travel also exposes the difference between what you fear and what is actually difficult. Before my first trip, I worried I might get bored, feel lonely or struggle without accommodation booked in advance. In reality, most of those fears disappeared once I was moving. The problems I had imagined were far more dramatic than the ones I encountered.
That does not mean every moment was easy. It means I started trusting myself to handle whatever came next.
How did my first solo trip change me?
On the first day of that trip around Spain, I stayed in places I already knew. On the second, I drove into Castilla y León and began moving through unfamiliar villages with no real idea of where I would stop. After a while, I was hungry, thirsty and increasingly aware that I had not passed anywhere open for miles.
Eventually, I reached a tiny village and spotted a bar. The lights were not even on. Inside, an elderly man stood behind the counter, apparently surprised to see a customer. I ordered a drink and chose one of the slightly sad-looking pintxos that had probably been waiting for me since breakfast.
He asked whether I had ever tried deer chorizo. I had not, so he disappeared and returned with some. We chatted for a while, and when I eventually asked what I owed him, he refused to take any money. He told me the first customer of the day never paid.
I drove away with my first free meal of the trip and the quiet realisation that things generally work themselves out. I did not need to know where I would sleep every night or plan every meal in advance. I simply needed to keep going and trust that I would deal with the next decision when it arrived.
It was a small interaction, but it stayed with me far longer than many of the supposedly important moments.
Does travelling alone make it easier to meet people?
One of the biggest misconceptions about solo travel is that it involves spending every day alone. In my experience, the opposite is usually true. People are far more likely to approach you, include you or invite you into their lives when you are not already part of a couple or group.
During that first trip around Spain, I commented on how much I liked a tortilla. Instead of simply saying thank you, the people serving me took me into the kitchen to meet the grandmother who had made it. Somehow, that conversation ended with an invitation to join the family for dinner later that evening.
Years later, I spent nine weeks travelling through small towns across the American Midwest. During the entire trip, I only bought my own food six times. Strangers fed me, invited me to meals, introduced me to their families and made sure I was looked after, usually without expecting anything in return.
The same thing has happened in countries all over the world. Of course, travelling alone does not guarantee instant friendship, and you still need to use common sense. But it creates space for interactions that may never happen when you are focused on a travel companion.
Those moments have changed how I see people. The world is rarely as cold, hostile or divided as it can appear from a distance.
Why solo travel is the ultimate journey of self-discovery
Solo travel forces you to examine your assumptions, not only about yourself but also about other people and cultures. It has made me less certain, more curious and far less willing to accept simple explanations about places I have never experienced for myself.
The media often reduces countries to conflict, poverty, danger or politics. Travelling alone has allowed me to sit with people whose lives are routinely discussed by outsiders and listen to what they actually think. Those conversations have rarely matched the simplified version I had been given beforehand.
It has also taught me that understanding a belief does not require sharing it. Curiosity is not the same as agreement, but it is usually a better starting point than judgement.
That lesson became particularly clear during a visit to a traditional settlement in Eswatini, where I was introduced to a local shaman.
What did a shaman in Eswatini teach me?
I had gone to the settlement to learn about traditional Eswatini life. When somebody mentioned there was a shaman who could give me a reading, I thought, why not? I did not particularly believe in it, but solo travel has a habit of placing you in situations that would sound ridiculous if you tried to plan them in advance.
I sat inside a small hut while he gathered a collection of tiny bones. He said several words I did not understand, threw the bones onto the ground and began interpreting how they had landed. I tried to look appropriately respectful, but the entire situation felt so surreal that I got the giggles.
Among other things, he told me I would have two children. At the time, I dismissed it. I have never physically given birth, but I now have two girls in my life through my relationship with Steve. Does that mean the shaman predicted my future? Possibly. It may also be a coincidence. I am comfortable admitting I do not know.
The reading did not change my life or suddenly make me spiritual. What it did was make me less dismissive of why people seek meaning through beliefs, signs or divine intervention. When life feels uncertain, it is understandable that people look for explanations or reassurance beyond what they can see in front of them.
Some people find that through religion, meditation or journalling. Others explore astrology, psychic readings or spiritual guidance through platforms such as the Nebula blog. My own instinct is still to question everything, but I no longer assume that my way of understanding the world is the only sensible one.
Can solo travel make you feel lonely?
Solo travel is often presented as either wonderfully liberating or desperately lonely. In reality, it can be both, sometimes within the same afternoon. Travelling alone does not remove sadness, heartbreak or anxiety. It simply changes where you happen to be when those feelings catch up with you.
Shortly after my divorce, I was sitting in Time Out Market in Cape Town, eating an excellent burger, when something triggered a memory. I suddenly started crying in the middle of the food court. There was no graceful cinematic moment. I was simply bawling over my lunch while everyone else continued with their day.
At times like that, the difficulty is not necessarily being alone. It is not having somebody nearby who knows you well enough to offer a hug without needing an explanation. When you are travelling, you often have to let the emotion pass, compose yourself and continue with whatever you were doing.
I do not find travelling lonelier than being at home. Loneliness can exist in a crowded room, a relationship or a familiar town. Solo travel simply makes it harder to distract yourself from it. That can be painful, but it can also force you to understand what you are feeling instead of burying it.
Does solo travel make you braver?
I would not say solo travel made me braver. I am still cautious, I still overthink things and I still make mistakes. What it has done is make me more aware of my own judgement and more willing to act when something feels wrong.
In Cairo, I got into the front seat of a taxi and started chatting to the driver as I normally would. I did not realise that my friendliness and choice of seat could be interpreted very differently. The journey became increasingly uncomfortable, and I eventually video-called my boyfriend, pretending he was my husband, to make the situation clear.
Nothing happened, but it was a useful reminder that openness needs to be balanced with cultural awareness. Kindness is common, but so are misunderstandings. Travelling alone does not mean assuming everybody is dangerous, yet it also does not mean ignoring your instincts because you want to appear polite.
The lesson was not to stop talking to people. It was to pay more attention to context, recognise when an interaction was changing and take action before discomfort became risk.
Can one trip change what success means to you?
My first visit to Sierra Leone did not give me an instant, neatly packaged revelation. It was more like a series of experiences that gradually made my previous definition of success feel increasingly hollow.
I saw a level of poverty I had never encountered before. One day, a woman approached me in the street holding her baby. She tried to hand the child to me and begged me to take it home. She said the baby would die if it remained in Sierra Leone and pleaded with me to give it a life elsewhere.
There was nothing useful I could say. I could not solve her situation, and I could not pretend that a kind word would make it better. I was simply confronted with the reality that a mother could believe giving her child to a stranger was the best chance of keeping that child alive.
Until then, I had built a successful career helping businesses make more money. Sierra Leone forced me to question whether I wanted to spend the rest of my life helping people buy themselves better Range Rovers. I no longer wanted success to be measured only by salary, job title or somebody else’s quarterly target.
That shift eventually became part of the reason I created Bea Adventurous. I still run a business and need it to make money, but I want my work to support local communities, encourage more responsible travel and help people understand places beyond the usual headlines.
Does self-discovery end when solo travel does?
Solo travel is often described as a path towards independence, but independence does not mean you must remain alone. Learning to enjoy your own company can make it easier to recognise the relationships that genuinely add something to your life.
For years, home was mostly connected to place. It was where I grew up, where I had lived or where my belongings happened to be stored. Meeting Steve and his girls changed that. Being with them feels like home in a way that has very little to do with geography.
That does not cancel out what solo travel gave me. In many ways, it helped me understand the difference between needing somebody and choosing to build a life with them. I know I can travel alone, solve problems and create a meaningful life independently. I also know that independence is not the same as emotional isolation.
Self-discovery is not about reaching a final, improved version of yourself. It is about noticing when your priorities, beliefs and definition of home have changed.
How should you start travelling alone?
Your first solo trip does not need to involve flying to the other side of the world, trekking through a jungle or eating unidentified food in a dark hut. Start somewhere that removes as many barriers as possible.
Spain was an easy first choice for me because I grew up there. Although I travelled to unfamiliar places, I understood the language, culture and practicalities. I did not have to worry about communicating, reading signs or knowing how things worked, which left me free to deal with the emotional challenge of being alone.
Choose somewhere you already feel comfortable, even if it is only a city a few hours from home. Book one or two nights rather than several weeks. Plan enough to feel secure, but leave some space to make decisions once you arrive.
The goal is not to prove how adventurous you are. It is to discover what happens when you stop waiting for somebody else to come with you.
Final thoughts on solo travel and self-discovery
Solo travel has not given me all the answers. It has made me better at asking questions.
It taught me that I could be mentally broken by work and still capable of living. It showed me that strangers are often extraordinarily kind, that loneliness does not disappear when the scenery changes and that curiosity must sometimes be tempered by caution.
It also led me to an elderly barman serving deer chorizo in an empty village, a shaman scattering bones across the floor in Eswatini, tears over a burger in Cape Town and a woman in Sierra Leone whose desperation permanently changed the way I thought about success.
None of those moments felt like self-discovery while they were happening. They simply felt like life.
That is probably why solo travel changes us. Without the familiar people and routines that usually tell us who we are, we have to pay attention to our own reactions. We begin to notice what frightens us, what excites us, what we believe and what we are no longer willing to accept.
You do not need to travel alone forever. You only need to do it long enough to hear yourself clearly.