Without a travel partner, I forced myself to shake off my inhibitions, allowing myself to be vulnerable.

“Can I just sit anywhere?” I asked the waiter. He stared at me for a beat. “Can I just sit anywhere?” I repeated, suddenly wondering if I had violated an obscure Colombian cultural norm by asking. Maybe, in Colombia, you were supposed to just boldly sit down anywhere, even if you didn’t have a reservation. Maybe this was another negative aftereffect of Spanish colonialism that I didn’t yet understand.

Finally, the waiter shook off his reverie and listlessly gestured to a table, still apparently confused. Sinking into my seat, I basked in the knowledge that I had successfully acquired a place in this restaurant.

It wasn’t until hours later that I learned there was a difference between sentarse (to sit) and sentirse (technically, to feel one’s self). I hadn’t, in fact, been asking if I could sit anywhere. Instead, I had been asking, repeatedly and with confidence, “Can I just touch myself anywhere?”

I blamed my boyfriend Renzo. He was supposed to protect me from these situations; he was the native Spanish speaker of the two of us. However, he had been busy with a work meeting that day during the hour of my solo excursion. But little did I know that this was merely the first of many similar situations. 

For the past year, we had both been working remotely, so Renzo could play translator whenever I forgot a word or didn’t have enough functioning brain cells. But many months after my restaurant faux pas, Renzo’s job stopped being remote, temporarily separating us and leading me to embark on several solo travel journeys that turned me into a Merry Loner. Here’s what happened—and what I learned.

Related Posts:

• I Don’t Like Traveling Alone—But I Keep Doing It Anyway
• No Date? No Problem—A Guide to Dating Yourself in 2025
• Extroverts Can Be Loners, Too: How Solo Travel Taught Sarah Silvia to Love Spending Time Alone

Embrace mistakes

Mixing up sentirse and sentarse is not the only mistake I’ve made while speaking another language. 

In French, I once accidentally ordered a toddler-sized bottle of wine for my mom, who barely drinks. In Italian, I accidentally told a flight attendant I was vegan. In Portuguese, I accidentally declared to an entire room that I was straight. But in all of these cases, I was able to overcome my temporary embarrassment by laughing everything off.

Speaking another language can be frustrating and even terrifying, but it helps if you take yourself less seriously. Even if you’re the smartest person in the world, you’ll make mistakes when you first engage with a new language. 

This is humbling; this is ego death. This is life. It happens when you have no one else to rely on but yourself.

Seek creative solutions

When Renzo and I were constantly traveling together, he would fight my battles for me in Spanish as if we were Meegan and Andre. Without him, I’ve not only improved my Spanish but learned to fend for myself. 

For instance, when I was in the northeastern Colombian city of Bucaramanga for a travel writing assignment, I couldn’t find a pool with open hours for lap swimming. Every person I talked to had said that I needed to pay for lessons. The problem was that I already knew how to swim. 

So I decided to pay for lessons. Then when I met the instructor, I simply told him that I could already swim and that he was now officially on paid vacation. In one fell swoop, I had both unlocked a new level of Spanish and learned how to navigate the informal currents of Colombian culture. 

Since that moment, I’ve tackled all of my obstacles with a sense of playfulness and calm. It’s the best way to stay sane when I have no one else to vent or laugh about my troubles with. Plus, my swim instructor was able to use his time off to finish The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.

Step outside your comfort zone

If you are an introvert, then the idea of asking a stranger for help can incite a nervous breakdown. But sometimes, you have to push yourself and take that extra step. 

Case in point: In my second year of solo trips without Renzo, I found myself in a pickle. I was in the Calanques of southern France, slightly lost and more than a little shaken after a disastrous solo lunch in which I broke every rule of French etiquette. (I used the wrong spoon; I dipped the wrong bread in my soup; I smiled too much.)

But soon, I noticed a fellow Merry Loner, equally lost-looking and (as I would soon discover) similarly separated from his boyfriend, who was temporarily overseas. I swallowed my fear, ignoring my impulse for shyness, and asked this man if he knew how to find a trail back to civilization. In the end, we found it together and even swam in a grotto for a bit. He lent me his towel. 

Though I had indeed relied on the kindness of a stranger, I strangely felt more independent afterwards. Without a travel partner, I’d forced myself to shake off my inhibitions, allowing myself to be vulnerable. I could now add “asking for help” to my arsenal.

Don’t neglect yourself

Solo travel can be intimidating, but you’ll need to engage in active self-love to succeed. 

Whenever I’ve traveled without Renzo, I always made it a point to find sites for phoneless reflection. Facing a sunset. Behind an abandoned warehouse. Under the shade of an oak tree. I’ve needed this time to confront my thoughts, uncover my pain, and reflect upon my experiences. Only then have my lessons been learned or even recognized.

Without that time for reflection, solo travel would have become a series of meaningless images and sounds, soulless and uninspiring, pushing me back into my comfort zone. I also wouldn’t have grown to see myself as my own best travel partner.

Boyfriend? What boyfriend?

Solo travel has also made me a better boyfriend. Armed with self-knowledge, I’ve grown more skilled at communicating my needs and accommodating Renzo’s. I fight my own battles but seek help when I need it. I learn from my mistakes. I appreciate the smaller moments.

That said, boyfriends remain overrated. Don’t wait on your significant other if you want to book that ticket to Rome. Go. A sunrise epiphany on Capitoline Hill only happens once in a lifetime. Date night can happen any old Wednesday.

Recommended Reading:

• 7 Books on Self-Awareness to Become a Better Person
• 21 Quotes for Traveling Alone
• How to Live a More Analog Life: 5 easy, cheap (or free) ideas
• 5 New Things I Want to Do Alone This Year
• How to Get Over Yourself and Go to that Damn Wedding, Gloriously Solo

Evan E. Lambert is an essayist, journalist, travel writer, and short fiction author with clips at Thought Catalog, People, Business Insider, Mic, Going, Santa Fe Writers Project, Paste, Motley Bloom, and more. He spends much of his time in Lima, Peru, and is fluent in Spanglish.