Whenever I mention I’m heading abroad on my own, the reactions tend to split down the middle. There’s the pitying look—the tilt of the head usually reserved for people whose dogs have gone missing—and there’s the dramatic gasp, as if I’ve just announced a one-way walk across the Sahara in flip-flops.

“Aren’t you terrified?”

“Won’t you be terribly lonely?”

“Who’s going to take your photos?”

Over the past decade of boarding trains, planes, and questionable overnight ferries by myself, I’ve realised that people project their own anxieties onto solo adventures. If you’ve never tried it, the prospect sounds daunting. In reality, travelling alone rarely resembles the extremes fed to us by films: it is neither an exercise in grim isolation nor an unhinged test of survival.

Here is what people get wrong about solo travel—and why the reality is far better than the fiction.

Myth 1: You’re Constantly Plagued by Loneliness

The single most common question I get asked is how I cope with being on my own all day. The short answer is: you aren’t on your own all day unless you want to be.

Travelling solo turns you into a social sponge. When you’re with a partner or a group of mates, you exist in a closed bubble. You look inward, talking amongst yourselves over breakfast and nursing private jokes at the bar. When you’re alone, your posture changes. You’re approachable. You end up swapping books with the person in the train seat next to you, trading itinerary tips with someone waiting in line for coffee, or sharing a table in a bustling bistro because every other seat is taken.

There will be quiet evenings, of course. Sometimes you will nurse a glass of wine and wish you had someone to say, “Look at that sunset,” to. But being alone is a logistical state; feeling lonely is an emotion. The former gives you mental stillness; the latter passes the moment you strike up a conversation with a local shopkeeper or fellow traveller.

Myth 2: The Entire World Outside Your Front Door Is Recklessly Dangerous

Safety is a valid consideration, especially for women. Pretending that risk doesn’t exist anywhere would be irresponsible, but assuming danger lurks around every foreign corner is equally absurd.

Most solo travellers aren’t adrenaline junkies throwing caution to the wind. We use the same basic urban awareness abroad that we do at home: we don’t wander down unlit alleyways late at night, we don’t leave drinks unattended, we keep emergency contacts handy, and we read up on local customs before arriving.

The surprising truth about the world is that the overwhelming majority of people are just getting on with their lives—and they are remarkably kind to a stranger asking for directions. Being cautious is prudent; letting fear keep you glued to your sofa is a waste of a passport.

Myth 3: Eating Out Alone Is Cripplingly Awkward

Ah, the dreaded table for one. There’s a widespread belief that walking into a nice restaurant by yourself is social suicide, bound to draw whispered comments from nearby couples.

In truth, nobody is looking at you. Waiters do not care; they just want to turn the table efficiently or hand you a menu. Fellow diners are too self-absorbed, checking their phones or bickering over dessert choices, to notice what anyone else is doing.

Once you get over the initial hurdle, dining alone is an absolute indulgence. You eat whenever you feel hungry, without an hour-long committee debate over whether everyone fancies tapas or noodles. You can prop open a paperback, scribble in a notebook, or simply watch the street drift by without feeling the need to make polite dinner table chatter. It transforms dining from an exhausting social performance into pure recreation.

Myth 4: You Need to Be a Bold, Extroverted Maverick

People often tell me, “I could never do what you do—I’m not brave enough.”

I am not particularly brave. I get nervous before long-haul flights, I double-check door locks, and I occasionally get turned around in train stations and stand there feeling slightly flustered.

You don’t need an unflinching sense of daring to travel alone; you simply need patience and a willingness to solve small problems as they arise. Missed the morning connection? You wait for the afternoon one. Ordered something completely unexpected off an untranslated menu? You try it anyway.

Solo travel doesn’t demand boldness from day one; it quietly teaches it to you. Every time you figure out a foreign metro line or ask a stranger for help, your self-reliance notches up a point.

The Real Reason We Go Alone

The real magic of solo travel isn’t about proving a point or searching for an Eat-Pray-Love epiphany. It’s about total autonomy.

For once in your adult life, your schedule belongs entirely to you. You can spend four hours wandering through an eccentric local museum without worrying that someone else is bored, sleep in until 10:00 without apologising, or change destinations on a whim because the forecast looks better two towns over.

Stepping out into the world alone isn’t a substitute for company; it’s a decision to enjoy your own. Once you realise you make rather good company, the whole world opens up.