Traveling solo is one of the most rewarding and exciting things I have ever experienced! I’ve traveled around Europe and the States by myself. I plan to someday backpack through Central America by myself and even live in the Middle East by myself at some point.

But let’s go back, 3 years ago, to the first time I traveled solo. When the smallest hiccup felt like the end of the world for me…

I was in my first semester of my junior year of college, studying abroad in Florence, Italy, and all of my roommates and friends had big plans for Fall Break. Some were going on trips to other countries and others were going with tour groups to explore Northern Europe. I, on the other hand, decided to do a short, solo trip. I had always wanted to try traveling alone so why not go to London? I spent about a week planning my trip and was determined to over-prepare so that nothing would go wrong.

But if there is one thing I learned on this trip, it’s the fact that something will go wrong. No matter how much I prepare.

When I first stepped off the plane in London, it was 8:00pm. I went inside the London Standtsed airport, exchanged my euros for pounds, discovered the awful exchange rate, and made my way down to the lower level, which was deserted and under construction. But there were train tracks so I stood there and waited for the Standsted Express, a 45 minute train ride to take me to the Liverpool Street Station.

I was so nervous for this trip but so excited to finally be in London! It’s kind of a blur to think about how I got off the train and went down multiple staircases to get to the London Underground Liverpool station. I remember asking an attendant for help with buying an oyster card and asking which train to take to get to the Tower Hill station. Up until this time was when I was nervous, but confident, and so sure of how to get where I needed to go. I traveled from Florence to London by bus and plane by myself, and I stood by myself in a deserted, dark basement because I knew the express was coming. But when I watched all the trains go by in the London Underground I couldn’t figure out which train I was supposed to take. It was all because the attendant gave me a description that wasn’t word for word what the train would say. I didn’t listen to my gut and I sat in the Underground for 3 hours because I kept second guessing which train was mine, even though every 15 minutes a train came by that said “via Tower Hill.” My phone was dying, I called my hostel to let them know I would be late to check in, and then I started to contemplate sleeping on that bench at Liverpool Station that night…

But it was cold and all the attendants had gone home for the night. So I took a chance and jumped on the next train that had the word “tower” typed on the screen. Once inside, I saw the map showing my station only a couple stops away. I was so relieved! Until I got to Tower Hill…

I made my way up through the tile-lined subway tunnel staircase and arrived outside, across the street from a building that looked like a medieval castle: Tower Hill. In the distance I could see tall, modern buildings, lit up against the dark, cloudy sky. But I wasn’t as excited as I thought I would be. I was in the middle of London, all alone, with 2% battery on my phone, Google Maps was glitching out, homeless people were sleeping nearby, and I had no idea how to get to my hostel from there. I thought I had prepared for this! I paid to have data on my phone in London so I could use Google Maps but I didn’t think about how much the journey would drain the battery…

I tried so hard not to panic. I tried to go back to the confident girl that knew exactly what she was doing. A little ways away I noticed a group of 4 or 5 blond haired girls that looked around my age. I ran up to the group and asked them if they knew how to get to Dock Street. One girl said, “oh, are you staying at Wombats?” Recognizing the name of my hostel, I said “yes!” and she said “Oh we’re staying there too! You can walk with us if you want.” I learned that this group of girls were from Sweden and were also enjoying the Fall Break with some traveling. When we arrived at the Wombats City Hall they went to their room while I checked in.

I immediately went to my assigned bunk in the mixed dorm on the third floor, exhausted from the trip. The lights were out and one guy in the bunk next to mine was snoring. I climbed up on to my top bunk, felt the scratchy, cheap sheets, and realized why hostels are cheap but also why they are the backpacker’s best friend. After the day I had, those scratchy, cheap sheets felt like a cloud. I slept like a baby that night.

The part of my trip that still cracks me up is that I was back at my hostel every night before the sun went down. I think it was half because I didn’t want to be reckless and half to give my parents back home peace of mind. But, boy, how times have changed when I travel solo these days! But that’s a story for another time… (sorry, mom)

The next three days were full of exploring the city! I knew three days wouldn’t be enough, but I was determined to make the most of my stay there! I had so much planned out and I couldn’t wait to go explore! A fully charged phone and the daylight made me excited and confident once more.

I started in Notting Hill, with a phenomenal breakfast at Granger & Co!

The next day’s highlight was afternoon tea at Gallery Mess, located in the Saatchi Gallery.

My third day was spent at Borough Market, a huge market situated under the railway lines. This was a huge space crawling with vendors selling anything from fruit, fresh juice, mulled wine, cheese (which I spent a lot of time tasting), olive oil, bread, tea, and food from all over Europe. At one I point I saw Spanish vendors with three giant skillets filled with paella, an Argentinian vendor selling empanadas, and I even found a Turkish vendor selling fresh Turkish Delight. There wasn’t enough room in my stomach for all the food I wanted to try. I ended up eating an empanada, some goat cheese, a couple pieces of Turkish Delight, and a classic meal of Pie and Mash. Unfortunately, I forgot to leave room for Fish and Chips.

Last, but not least, I spent my last day at Camden Lock before my flight. I almost didn’t go to Camden. I was tired and I didn’t want to stress about my flight, but I didn’t have any other specific plans so I figured I would check it out. Little did I know that it would be my favorite part of London! Streets lined with thrift shops, graffiti, and people walking around with spiked, neon green hair, fish net stockings, and leather jackets. Plus, the food choices were limitless and delicious!

Once the sun started setting I hopped on the tube and went back to Liverpool Street Station, where my crazy journey home started. I got back on the Stansted Express and headed back to the airport where my RyanAir flight was getting ready to board. This part of my trip was something I was slightly nervous about. I had booked my flight to arrive in Bologna at 10:30 and I also booked a ticket for a bus that was leaving for Florence at 11:15pm…

I had prepared myself to miss my bus but there is no way to mentally prepare yourself for something so stressful as being stranded in a strange city for the night. I arrived in Bologna on time but it took me an hour to get from the airport to the train station, where the bus would pick me up. The bus had long gone so I tried to buy a train ticket home but the train station closed at midnight. I was being forced out of the building and left to stand on the street. Men were harassing me and approaching me, offering me a taxi ride back to Florence in cars that were obviously not taxis, my phone was at 4% (once again, I obviously have a problem…) and I was about to have a panic attack. I finally took a breath and I looked around for the taxi station. I had a taxi within 20 minutes and I had just enough battery on my phone to pull up my HostelWorld app and show him the address for a hostel I had saved before my trip.

Once at the hostel, I got a bed in a dorm and went to bed, with tears of stress in my eyes. The hostel didn’t have lockers so I decided to sleep with my backpack next to me. But once I pulled my backpack close I smelled the high quality, French goat cheese I had bought 2 days ago at Borough Market and laughed at myself for stressing about traveling alone when I didn’t even know how to store cheese.

The next day I walked to the train station and got a train back to Florence. I came home to a package from my boyfriend that contained a rechargeable battery and I couldn’t wait to travel solo again!