A Weekend Alone: My First Solo Adventure

I wish I could say there was some life-changing, cinematic moment that inspired me to book my first solo trip — some dramatic turning point that suddenly pushed me towards adventure. But honestly, there wasn’t.

My first solo travel selfie

If I’m truthful, I can barely remember the chain of events that led to me clicking “confirm booking” on a weekend trip to Oslo at aged 21. What I do remember is that I had broken up with my short-term boyfriend the day before, so perhaps that was the catalyst. Or perhaps it wasn’t. I’ll never really know.

What I do know is that the desire to travel had lived in me for as long as I can remember. Even at fourteen, I felt this restless pull towards the world beyond the borders of my own life. None of my close friends seemed to share that same longing, something I could never quite understand. There was an entire world out there — different cities, languages, people, stories — and I couldn’t comprehend how that wasn’t endlessly fascinating to everyone else.

My return flights to Oslo cost just £19.99 — departing early on Saturday morning and returning late on Sunday night. Honestly, it was hardly the kind of deal anyone could turn down, even if it was the middle of November and Oslo would likely be cold, dark, and miserable. But none of that mattered to me.

It was my first solo trip, and booking a stay in a hostel felt like one small step too far. Instead, I found myself checking into the cheapest hotel I could find.