It was six months ago that I packed my suitcases for the adventure of a lifetime. I was getting ready to fly to Europe to spend a semester studying and traveling alone. I had no idea what laid on the path ahead of me. I was certain I would see beautiful places and meet great people, which I did. The journey I took hardly resembled the one I imagined when I zipped my suitcase shut for the transatlantic flight.

One week until take off

I had been counting down the days until my flight for about four months. I weighed my luggage more times than I could count. I had pinned every travel article on Pinterest. I had a head full of dreams and an arsenal of backpacking equipment that still had tags dangling from it. I knew this was not going to be easy but everyone told me it would be the best experience of my life. I believed them. I believed that if Elizabeth Gilbert could travel the world solo for a year and write a kick a** book about it, so could I. If Cheryl Strayed could hike the Pacific Crest Trail alone, find herself, and have Reese Witherspoon play her in the movie, I could definitely make it through a semester alone. I was strong but I would come out of this stronger. The world was, quite literally, at my feet and I had some shoes to break in.

One week after touch down

It did not take long for loneliness to settle in when I arrived in my new home country of Wales. I spent my first two days talking to no one but waiters and cashiers as I bought food and supplies. When I finally met someone from the university who would also be there for the semester on exchange, I clung to the conversation, desperate for the interaction. I had no idea how important meaningful human contact was to me until I didn't have it anymore. I had no one. If I wanted to grab dinner and drinks with someone, it would have to wait until I made friends. If I got sick, no one was there to hold my hair. Studying abroad is hard enough. Studying abroad when not a single person from your home town or university is in your country is almost cruel. It became my mission to make friends because I needed to. I needed to make a life for myself that I enjoyed and if I did not put in the work, no one else was going to do it for me. I had flights to book and a backpack to pack. If I was going to see this world, it would begin with a decision I'd have to make.

Halfway

By halfway, I found my rhythm. I studied during the week and took off for other countries on the weekends. I had more stamps in my passport than I could count. I gained the standard amount of weight for eating some of the best food in the world with no attention to calories and no access to a gym. I stayed in hostels where I met some great people. I stood on mountains that took my breath away and dipped my feet into the blue water that only the Mediterranean can possess. I slept on airport tile floors and took six hour bus rides consistently. I counted pennies and ran across the tarmac to almost missed flights. I collected post cards and shot glasses to remember this by and got tattoos as souvenirs. I made a few very good friends to meet with during the week but on the weekends, I was on my own. I started to like that time by myself with no interruption to my thoughts.

One week until home

As I pack my suitcases once more, I am proud of the worn shoes and backpack straps. I ended up traveling to 15 countries in the six months, 11 of which I did alone. I collected shot glasses from each country and I stare at them lined up, Denmark, Holland, France, Wales, England, Belgium, Poland, Greece, Spain, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland, Italy, and Iceland. I realized that when people said this would be the "best time of life," it was not because it would be fun. Traveling alone is NOT fun. It is challenging. It is frustrating. It is exhilarating. It is satisfying. It is something to be proud of. It shows you who you are. Sometimes the image you are left with of yourself is not fun. You might not be who you thought you were before. That is not a "fun" realization. I realized that I love my friends and need time with them to feel like myself. I also know now that I can withstand a lot more alone time than I once believed possible. I realized that I will go through hell to see a new place and get that stamp on my passport. I realized that some of the best people in this world are not from the place you call home, but from 5,000 miles away. I realized that I am tougher than I thought but I do not always want to be tough. I could not wait to go home.

In conclusion

I believe everyone should travel alone at least once. I think six months is excessive but I would not trade it for any amount of comfort. Traveling alone taught me to think for myself and make quick decisions with only myself to blame or reward. It forced me to take responsibility for my actions and celebrate them when possible. I was forced to not sweat the small stuff because the little inconveniences mean nothing in the big picture. I also learned that there is no one that will experience your time abroad like you do. No matter how beautiful the pictures you post or how detailed the stories you tell, only you will know the pain of the blisters, the sweetness of the gelato, the heat of the Spanish sun, the chill of a Scandinavian winter without gloves and the satisfaction of making it to wherever the destination may be.