I traveled alone for a weekend, and managed to survive

A few weeks ago I impulsively bought a round trip flight to Stockholm, and told myself I’d figure out the rest later. It’s so cheap. Be fun and spontaneous! Two minutes later, I received a confirmation email from Ryanair and stared down at my debit card wondering what exactly I had just done. Short of a quick Google image search, I knew absolutely nothing about Stockholm. I had nowhere to stay and no friends who would come with me.

And I had to figure out a way to tell my parents.

When I left to study abroad this semester, my parents made only one, very reasonable request of me: that I not travel alone. At the time, never occurred to me that I would want to go anywhere by myself. But, here I was. After a very diplomatic, and surprisingly brief conversation with my mother, she conceded. I agreed not to drink, not to stay out too late, and to send updates along the way so they knew I was still alive. Three weeks later, I was on my way.

Fortunately, getting into Stockholm could not have been easier. My flight arrived on time, the bus I had planned to take was waiting right outside the airport, and I immediately found an ATM to take out kronas (Sweden is not, unfortunately, on the Euro). So far, so good. I arrived at the hostel, checked in, and unlocked the door to meet my new roommates: 10 men, ranging in age from early twenties to late thirties.

None of them spoke English, and all of them assumed I was French, for some unknown reason. Afraid to leave anything valuable behind in the hostel, I unpacked only my extra shirts, toothbrush, and towel before setting off to explore.

Stockholm is beautiful. The buildings are colorful and somehow appear to be coordinated, and the older neighborhoods blend seamlessly in with the new to create a sense of unity throughout each of the fourteen islands the city occupies.

The streets are wide and clean, but should probably be replaced by fashion runways, because every Swedish person I saw looked like a model. They are all tall, blonde, beautiful, and impeccably dressed. Needless to say, I fit right in with my oversized backpack and beat up Converse.

I had initially planned to visit a museum about the Vikings that showed pictures of a preserved shipwreck online. Instead, my superior navigation skills led me to another, very boring museum dedicated to the history of Swedish design. It wasn’t until I was half way through the first gallery, which looked more like an Ikea warehouse than an exhibit I’d paid to see, that I realized this series of perfectly constructed chairs had nothing to do with bearded warriors or their ships.

I quickly recovered, however, and continued my afternoon wandering around town, until the sun set promptly at 5:45 PM and I wandered back to my room.

The next day, I woke up to the lovely realization that I had forgotten to bring shower shoes. So I showered in my socks. And, afraid to let my backpack out of my sight for one moment, I actually brought it into the shower stall with me. (I am pleased to report that through these dramatic measures I was able to arrive home with all of my valuables intact.)

Wandering around that second day was an entirely new experience. After a night of sleep, and facing an entire day on my own, with no one to please but myself, I felt completely relaxed (aside from my deep fear of knocking over Viking figurines in over-crowded tourist shops).

With no one to talk to all day, I was able to stop and absorb my surroundings without rushing through on a tight agenda. Instead, I walked slowly and tried to notice more things, to really be in the moment and appreciate the fact that I had just arrived in Sweden for the weekend. It was an immensely refreshing experience; I felt completely vulnerable, but somehow strong and confident at the same time.

But don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and love to travel with other people. When you travel alone, there is no one to take the basic you-standing-in-front-of-a-pretty-view-holding-a-railing-with-your-best-soft-smile pictures to show that you actually visited that city. Instead, you must resort to awkward selfies (which you must then send to your parents as evidence you are still alive). This brings about awkward scenarios.

Like, for example, when I decided to take a picture in a Viking hat because nobody in the country knew me and therefore their judgments were irrelevant. But at that exact moment a very tall, very blonde, very gorgeous Swedish boy almost bumped into my immensely large backpack and openly laughs because I was, indeed, taking a selfie in a Viking hat. (Below, for your personal amusement, I have included the picture, as well as the selfie my mother sent back.)

In the end, however, my first solo adventure was a success. The only failure of the trip was my inability to think of a witty Instagram caption.

You may have thought an entire weekend alone would be enough time to think of something witty, but you would, in fact, be wrong.