Solo Backpacking Memoirs
When I had the opportunity to study in Seville, Spain, I leapt at it. May through June of 2024, a six-week language intensive. I decided I wouldn’t stop there, though. Solo travel had plagued my dreams for damn near a decade, and I figured 19 years was enough life experience for me to explore Europe alone. So, I booked my return flight for July and decided I’d plan along the way.
Studying abroad was awesome. Absolutely do it if you can. Seville was a gorgeous city that taught me the art of tapas and how to flamenco, albeit badly. It made me comfortable with solitude, the perfect preparation for my solo endeavor. (At several points, my study abroad friends asked if I had lost my mind. “You’re backpacking ALONE? Have you planned anything?” To which I said, “Umm, not really. I’ll figure it out.”)
I flew to Porto, Portugal, to visit my friend Evan after my term ended. It was fortuitous timing – the Festa de São João was happening, and the city became one big party. DJs took up residence in the streets, and paper lanterns were lifted into the sky. (Imagine that one scene in Tangled. It was like that, but with techno blaring in the background).
Image Courtesy: Hailey Indigo
After Portugal, I had a lengthy layover in Milan on my way to Czechia. So, like any rational girl, I dropped my 40L Osprey backpack in a Trenitalia locker and walked to the Milan Cathedral. I went in and examined it, then returned to the airport for a Ryanair flight to Prague.
It was in the Milano Malpensa Airport that my parents and I had our largest fight to date. You see, they knew I was backpacking… they just didn’t know I was alone. I had been the quintessential do-gooder eldest daughter for almost two decades, and somehow decided solo backpacking seven time zones away was the best time to rebel. My parents yelled at me (rightfully so) and told me to come home. (Spoiler: I did not do that).
Prague taught me that solo travel is entirely what you make of it. My hostel had a built-in bar, which I used as a hunting ground for travel friends. What started as a passing remark turned into a mix of Swedes, Brits, Ozzies and a handful of Dutch guys sitting around a table playing cards (and me, the sole American). We talked about football (soccer) and cultural differences before going to a rooftop disco, which sums up the hostel experience pretty well.
Image Courtesy: Hailey Indigo
After Prague was Vienna, a truly miraculous city of white sculpted marble and artwork, not to mention several Versailles-esque palaces. (If my net worth were significantly higher and I spoke German, I would totally live in Vienna. Billy Joel was SO right about it). I stayed in a party hostel, which is always the right idea if you’re outgoing and have a concerning lack of social anxiety. My hostel roommates and I visited the basement bar and made friends with a girl from the Basque country and a group of Scots who hated the English as much as they do in the movies.
The Slovak capital of Bratislava was an hour outside Vienna, so I took a day trip. I wandered through neighborhoods after a brief exploration, comforted by vague reminders of my hometown. Residential Bratislava reminded me of downtown Sanford – and no, I’m not going to elaborate.
My final stop was Budapest. I couldn’t tell you if I stayed in Buda or Pest, just that the city is something of a bohemian paradise that I’m dying to return to. My friend Brooke had been interrailing as well, and our time in Budapest overlapped. We embarked upon a Prosecco cruise to celebrate our reunion, and I’m told we went clubbing afterwards. Prosecco cruises are not for the weak; I’ll tell you that.
I returned home on July 4th after a few months abroad, listening to “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue” as I watched fireworks burst across the Floridian skyline from the comfort of my window seat. (This was, without a doubt, the most patriotic moment of my life).
Image Courtesy: Hailey Indigo
I’d like to thank my parents for being happy to see me at the airport instead of immediately berating me for going to Central Europe by myself. Don’t get me wrong, they eventually did. Can’t blame them! Learn from my mistakes and tell your parents before you book a non-refundable flight to the Czech Republic.
Every time I recount this story, people tell me they “could never” solo travel. Was I not scared to live in hostels, to not speak the language? Was I not scared to be alone?
In short…. no, not really.
I have a healthy fear of the world at large. It’s big, it’s changing, and people are unpredictable. But I craved the world. I craved experience, the understanding that comes with solitude. For years I had presented a confident façade, the self-assured girl who knew who she was and what she wanted. Only the people closest to me knew I was a turbulent mess, unsure of myself and my place. Solo travel forced me to be alone with my thoughts, to learn about myself from the inside out and embrace the woman I had become.
Life is long, but youth is deliriously short. It’s a time of confusion and learning, full of lessons you don’t even know you need to learn.
Sometimes you need to get a little lost to figure out what you’re looking for.
Strike Out,
Writer: Hailey Indigo
Editor: Olivia Hansen
Hailey Indigo is a copyeditor for Strike Magazine GNV. She is a lover of gold jewelry, deep conversations, and the color orange. If you’re looking to book an impromptu trip halfway across the world, she’s your girl. Slide into her dms @haileyindigo.
