Before I came to college, I was the type of person who was constantly aware of everyone around me and their possible perceptions of me. Even doing something as normal as grabbing a coffee or going for a walk by myself evoked the anxiety levels of someone being hunted for sport –
When I moved to Dublin, I knew no one. Coming from the top corner of the country, very few people from my secondary school ended up in Dublin, and I felt alone. It was a terrifying concept at the time. I had to find my bearings alone, wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar streets, trying to navigate the public transport system and locate the obscure off-campus lecture halls. I was stuck in the limbo of wanting to see everything and try everything, but not knowing anyone well enough to ask if they wanted to join. Doing them alone seemed like the most embarrassing thing in the world to me.
Gradually, I came to the startling realisation that no one is looking at you, and no one cares, and you’re really only the centre of your own universe. We tend to overestimate the extent to which others observe and judge us. The humbling fact is; no one is thinking anything significant about you for any significant amount of time. So, although it might feel like there’s a huge spotlight pointed at you, everyone is way too busy thinking about their own lives to think incessantly about yours.
“Learning to be comfortable in your own presence is one of the most rewarding things in the world”
Learning to be comfortable in your own presence is one of the most rewarding things in the world. Having a group of friends you can travel with, go out with, and share everything with is, of course, amazing; but sometimes it’s equally as fun to stroll around an art gallery alone, or go to that film you’ve been wanting to see by yourself. Last summer, I went to a concert by myself for the first time. I had two tickets, but no one was free to go, so I sold one and went anyway. Realising that you don’t have to wait around for people to be free opens up a new world – you can have equally as much fun by yourself, if you stop caring about others’ judgement.
Over Reading Week, I went solo-travelling for the first time. For years, I have always wanted to visit Florence. As someone obsessed with Renaissance art, it was high on my bucket list: Michelangelo’s David, Botticelli’s Primavera, Gentileschi’s Judith Beheading Holofernes. I also knew that the inhuman level of ‘nerd’ I was to embrace probably didn’t require an audience. The only souvenir I bought was a copy of Dante’s Inferno, in the original Italian, a language I don’t speak. I also knew I would need the freedom to stare at paintings long enough that the staff would get concerned. I had some money saved from my summer job, and I thought why not? I have the time and the funds. Next thing I knew, I was boarding a flight to Pisa.
This was definitely a step up from going to concerts by myself. I was in a foreign city, with a language I didn’t speak, and a public transport system I didn’t understand. It was truly me and Google Maps against the world. Although nerve wracking at points, there was something empowering about building a trip entirely around my own interests. Travelling with a group can feel like a balancing act—navigating everyone’s preferences, energy levels, and schedules. No two people go on a trip with the same motives, and while that’s entirely okay, solo travelling offers a refreshing alternative: the freedom to do what you want when you want without compromising or feeling guilty..
“I strolled down narrow streets lined with bookshops, vintage shops, and an insane amount of leather. I made friends with the girl in my hostel room that chain-smoked out the window at all hours”
I sat outside cafés across from the most beautiful cathedrals, drinking espresso and reading for hours. I saw every artwork on my bucket list and ate really good food. I strolled down narrow streets lined with bookshops, vintage shops, and an insane amount of leather. I made friends with the girl in my hostel room that chain-smoked out the window at all hours. I was able to get up as early or as late as I wanted, and go to bed early without feeling lame. Don’t get me wrong, I love a night out – I’m normally the first to lace up my docs and squeeze into my little black dress – but it felt nice to be cosy in bed, editing my Instagram photo dump, after doing a hefty 30,000 steps around the city.
“The beauty of travelling alone is in discovering that you’re good company”
It honestly didn’t bother me that I was alone. I’m trying to steer clear of the cliche of ‘finding yourself’ that people use to a nauseating extent when talking about travelling solo, but you really do learn a lot about yourself. It’s an act of self-care to give yourself time to reflect and not have to be constantly present for other people. The beauty of travelling alone is in discovering that you’re good company. At the end of the day, if you wait around too long for other people, your bucket list will start to collect dust. No one else is going to experience things for you, sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and just do it. There’s a quiet freedom in knowing you’re not waiting on others to live your life.
Looking back on myself as a teenager, I hope that she would think I’m super cool, being able to travel to a foreign country by myself and have genuine fun. A far cry from the girl who couldn’t even walk into a room without her friend next to her. Honestly, it’s more likely that she would think I’m a loser. And it’s weirdly comforting not to care what fourteen-year-old me thinks.
