The Many Faces of Solo Travel: Real Stories, Real Journeys

Anna, 62 – The Reluctant Adventurer Turned Explorer

"I never thought I’d travel alone. But when you lose the person you always travelled with, you either stay home… or find a new way forward."

My name’s Anna, and for most of my life, I was half of a pair. Peter and I met at 19, married at 22, and spent decades exploring the world together—always hand in hand. We had a rhythm: he’d plan the routes, I’d pick the places to eat, and we’d laugh at getting lost. When he passed away two years ago, the world felt smaller. My grown-up kids were busy with their own lives, and the thought of travelling alone filled me with dread.

But Florence had always been my dream. Last spring, I saw an art documentary about the Uffizi Gallery, and something inside me stirred. I booked a small-group tour—just flights and a hotel, nothing fancy. The night before I left, I barely slept, convinced I’d made a mistake.

The first morning, I sat alone with my coffee, watching couples and families breeze by. My heart ached. But then, a woman my age—Sandra from Toronto—asked if she could share my table. We talked about art, loss, and finding the courage to do things for ourselves. That conversation cracked something open in me. I spent the next days wandering Florence’s alleys, sketching statues, and letting myself get lost in the hum of the city. I cried in front of Botticelli’s “Primavera”—not just for Peter, but for the brave, uncertain woman I was becoming.

There were awkward dinners, moments when I missed having someone to share a joke with, but also bursts of pride: I navigated the train to Pisa, ordered gelato in Italian, and even danced at a local festival. Coming home, I felt changed. I wasn’t just Anna-who-was-married; I was Anna-who-could. Now, I’m planning my next trip—maybe Seville, maybe Vienna. I still feel lonely sometimes, but I also feel alive.

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Mark, 45 – The Curious Mind with a Case of Wanderlust

"People always ask if I mind travelling solo. Truth is, I love it: the freedom, the possibility, the chance to just… be me."

I’m Mark, 45, and I’ve always been the “odd one out” in my circle. I’m single, never married, and I love my independence. My mates joke that I’m part human, part suitcase—always researching flights, plotting new adventures. But here’s the thing: I’m not running away from anything. I’m running toward the world.

Tokyo was my first big solo leap. I’d always been obsessed with Japanese culture—anime, technology, ramen. Stepping off the plane, the city felt like a sensory overload: neon signs, orderly crowds, the distant sound of a shamisen blending with car horns. No one to compromise with, no one rolling their eyes at my endless museum stops.

I spent my days wandering Tsukiji Market, sampling sushi I couldn’t pronounce, and getting lost in Akihabara’s labyrinth of gadget shops. I signed up for a sumo wrestling class on a whim (turns out, I’m not a natural), and made friends with a local barista who introduced me to matcha cocktails. My evenings were spent at tiny jazz bars, chatting with strangers who became friends for a night.

I did have moments of loneliness—like when I saw couples taking photos under the cherry blossoms—but mostly, I felt exhilarated. I could be silent or sociable, spontaneous or structured. I learned to sit with my own thoughts, to let curiosity lead the way. Coming home, I noticed I was more open, more at ease with myself. Solo travel isn’t about escaping life; it’s about embracing it, one adventure at a time.

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Liz, 37 – The Anxious Planner Who Found Her Brave

"I used to think solo travellers were fearless. Turns out, you just have to be braver than your excuses."

I’m Liz, 37, married for 12 years to Tom—my best friend, my homebody. Tom’s idea of adventure is a new recipe, not a new country. For years, my bucket list gathered dust while I made excuses: “Next year,” “Too busy,” “What if I get sick?” You see, I have Crohn’s disease, and anxiety is my frequent travel companion.

But Lisbon kept calling to me—its pastel streets, the promise of custard tarts and fado music. I spent weeks planning: mapping pharmacies, learning basic Portuguese, printing out emergency contacts. My suitcase was a pharmacy in itself, but it gave me comfort.

Landing in Lisbon, my nerves were electric. The first night, my stomach twisted with anxiety. I almost ordered room service, but something in me rebelled. I found a tiny fado bar nearby. The owner, Maria, greeted me like an old friend. She introduced me to her daughter, who sat with me, translating the songs and sharing stories about the city. For the first time, I didn’t feel like a tourist—I felt like a guest.

Each day, I set myself tiny challenges: taking Tram 28 up to the Alfama, eating alone in a bustling tasca, joining a street art tour. I had setbacks—a mild flare-up, a panic about getting lost—but each time, I coped. I journaled at sunset on the Miradouro de Santa Catarina, feeling the city’s heartbeat and my own.

Coming home, Tom hugged me tight and said, “You look different—lighter.” He was right. I’d faced my fears and found not just a city, but a new side of myself. Now, I’m planning a solo hiking trip in Scotland. I’m still anxious, but I know I can do hard things.

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Closing Thoughts: Your Story Awaits

Anna, Mark, and Liz travelled for their own reasons, but they all returned transformed—more confident, more curious, more themselves. If you see yourself in any of their journeys, know that you’re not alone. Solo travel is for anyone brave enough to say yes to themselves, in whatever way feels right.

And this is just the beginning: Anna Mark and Liz's full stories will be in the  of a new book filled with even more solo traveller stories—real journeys, real people, real emotions. Want to share your own story, or be the first to read more? Watch this space, or reach out to Gem for a chat. Your next adventure—and maybe your own story—could be just around the corner.