Do it alone, do it scared, do it anyways

Six weeks into my internship at Alpine F1, most operations came to a stop due to the Formula I Academy-mandated summer shutdown, which meant two weeks of vacation for almost every employee. The majority of my coworkers were prepared to return to lifestyles established outside the city since they had relatives nearby or other destinations to visit. As a new transplant to England, with family across the Atlantic Ocean and not many close friendships on this continent, my calendar was empty, and I was anxious about how to spend that time. Being at my house didn’t appeal to me since it was too quiet, so I decided to take myself on a trip — not because I felt bold or anything but because standing still felt worse than stepping outside my comfort zone. 

In full honesty, I had always felt a bit uncomfortable being solo in places that seemed to be designed for couples and groups. At first, being alone in public felt performative, like I was on display for everyone to silently judge me. Once, at a Parisian cafe, I tried to focus on my writing but convinced myself that I looked awkward and out of place. I viewed my own presence in these areas as this sort of anomaly that required an explanation to exist. It took some time for that uneasiness to go away, but eventually I realized that no one was really paying attention to me. People were so preoccupied with themselves that they hardly noticed a stranger writing quietly in the corner.

It took some effort to get used to being in public, but spending time alone quickly stopped feeling vulnerable and instead felt liberating as I enjoyed more and more of my surroundings on my own terms. Anyone who is hesitant should try going out by themselves; you could be surprised.

The exploration of a new place will carry a certain amount of anxiety. When I started traveling alone, I only went to places where I knew the local language, which at least eliminated one factor. In addition, I allowed myself to settle in gradually by spending the first few hours exploring the area on foot, researching for my itinerary and trying local food. I would sometimes listen to my favorite playlist and go for a run around the neighborhood, allowing my habits to follow me to foreign places. Spending time alone is an opportunity to determine my own pace rather than test my isolation. It’s often treated like a consolation prize or something to be endured, but I’ve found real enjoyment in it. The freedom to move through a place on my own terms makes solo time feel less like a burden and more like a privilege.

Traveling solo also opened space for connecting with others in unexpected ways. When I went to Marseille in May, the train ride held its own set of surprises. With the help of our phones and a translation app, I had an entire discussion with a woman who sat next to me about her trip to the Bruce Springsteen concert and my upcoming year in Europe. On the journey back, my seatmate happened to be close to my age, and we talked about the differences between university in France versus the U.S., and our favorite movies. As a local, he also gave me recommendations for what to do in Paris, like to go visit Parc des Buttes-Chaumont and the Hôtel National des Invalides.

Even though I’ll probably never see them again and the conversations weren’t really profound, they left me with new ideas and a newfound sense of humanity. There’s something quietly remarkable about sharing a moment with someone whose daily life is wildly different from your own, yet finding common ground in a story. These few conversations made me realize how much everyone wants to be seen and understood, even for a brief moment. If I had travelled with someone else, I would have been locked in our own little world and missed those small and genuine conversations. Traveling alone, however, I could shut out the world when I needed to or connect with others when I wanted to. Both choices were mine, determined by my feelings rather than by having to fit in with someone else’s interests.

I won’t pretend loneliness never followed me on those days abroad. Sometimes walking along the Seine as the sun set or wandering the streets of Oxford, I would think that this moment would be a really great memory to share with someone. Acknowledging that these thoughts happen and impact my mood are normal experiences while living abroad. But when they did happen, I started to write the experience down, saving it for later, because they would someday become stories I shared with others or memories I revisited by myself. 

While I am so grateful to have the opportunity to solo travel, traveling with a friend encourages individuals to attempt new activities they may not otherwise do. However, I’m also aware of the quiet satisfaction that comes from making my own decisions, following my gut, taking my time and allowing each day by myself to unfold as I like it. 

Nevertheless, exploring cities alone is not limited to trips across Europe. Back in Ann Arbor, I built the same confidence in smaller steps. I would go for a walk downtown on the weekends, choosing an area that I hadn’t been to in a long time. Sometimes I’d try a new coffee shop and study there for a bit. Once in a while, I would treat myself to a movie at the State or Michigan Theater, where I would be in my own solitude but in a community of moviegoers. These solo outings taught me that making memories alone may be just as fulfilling as sharing them, if not more so, since I had complete control over every decision. 

Whether at home or halfway around the world, the same dread still precedes any solo travel or date. Although the first outing is scary, I would much rather do it alone than not do it at all. What started off as a way to get through two weeks alone turned out to be one of the greatest presents I’ve ever given myself. I have become the type of person who I hoped to meet, one with stories worth telling and experiences worth sharing. And now, whenever I’m given the option, I always choose to face things alone rather than let fear stop me. 

Jovanna Gallegos is an Opinion Analyst on a year-long internship in Oxford, England. She writes about culture, technology and travel. She can be reached at jovanna@umich.edu.