I Took My First Solo Trip at 52

The morning I left for my first solo trip, I stood in my kitchen at 4 a.m., passport in hand, and thought about canceling everything.

I was 52 years old. I'd raised three kids, run a middle school, organized countless fundraisers and faculty meetings. I'd navigated teenagers, budget cuts, and parent-teacher conferences. But the idea of getting on a plane to Portugal by myself? That terrified me.

My divorce had been finalized for six months. My youngest had just left for college. And I was standing in an empty house, looking at my life and thinking: "Now what?"

A friend had suggested I travel. "Go somewhere you've always wanted to see," she said. So I booked a trip to Lisbon—ten days, just me. No tour group. No travel companion. Just me and a city I'd dreamed about for years.

I almost didn't go. But I did. And it changed everything.

Now, three years and twelve countries later, I want to tell you what I wish someone had told me before that first trip. Not the Instagram version. The real version.

You're Going to Feel Guilty

Here's what nobody tells you: the hardest part of solo travel at our age isn't navigating foreign airports or eating alone at restaurants. It's giving yourself permission to do it.

For decades, we've been the ones taking care of everyone else. But go do something for ourselves? It feels selfish.

Let me save you some time: it's not selfish. It's necessary.

You've earned this. You've paid your dues. And taking time for yourself doesn't make you a bad mother, daughter, or friend. It makes you a whole person.

The guilt will come anyway—I called my kids three times on day one. But it fades. And what replaces it is something better: peace.

Eating Alone Is Weird at First (Then It's Wonderful)

I spent my first solo dinner in Lisbon staring at my phone, pretending to read emails. I felt exposed. Conspicuous. Like everyone was wondering why that middle-aged woman was eating alone.

Here's the truth: nobody was wondering that. Nobody was looking at me at all. By day three, I brought a book to dinner. By day five, I was people-watching and enjoying my wine. By day seven, I struck up a conversation with the woman at the next table—also traveling alone, also in her 50s, also initially terrified.

Now? I love eating alone. I order whatever I want. I eat slowly. I watch the world. It's one of my favorite parts of traveling.

Your Body Will Surprise You

I worried about my knees. I worried about getting tired. I worried that I was too old to keep up with the pace of travel.

Then I walked 20,000 steps through Lisbon's hills and felt more alive than I had in years.

Yes, travel at 50+ is different than it was at 25. I need more sleep. I can't do hostels. I need a good mattress and my reading glasses and my medications organized in my pill case.

But I'm also stronger than I thought. More capable. And way more patient than I was in my 20s. I don't need to see everything. I don't need to rush. I can sit in a café for two hours and call it a perfect afternoon.

Our bodies have limits, but they also have resilience we've forgotten about. You'll be amazed at what you can do.

You'll Make Friends (Even If You're Shy)

I'm an introvert. Small talk exhausts me. The idea of chatting with strangers on a trip made me anxious.

But here's what happens when you travel solo: people approach you. Other solo travelers recognize each other. We're all a little nervous, a little brave, a little wondering what we're doing here.

I've made friends in hostel common areas, on walking tours, at wine tastings, in cooking classes. Not forced friendships. Natural ones. People who were also figuring it out.

And if you want to be alone? That's okay too. Solo travel means you get to choose.

What You Actually Need to Know

Forget everything you think you need to pack—you need half of it. Bring comfortable shoes, a good jacket, and clothes you can wash in a sink.

Book your first night's accommodation before you arrive. After that, you can be spontaneous.

Download Google Maps offline. Learn to say "hello," "thank you," and "where is the bathroom" in the local language.

Most importantly: give yourself grace. You'll get lost. You'll make mistakes. You'll have moments of loneliness and doubt.

And you'll also have moments of joy so profound you'll wonder why you waited so long.

Here's What I Know Now

That first trip to Lisbon? I cried on the plane ride there and cried on the plane ride home. The first set of tears was fear. The second was gratitude.

I'm 55 now. I've been to Portugal, Italy, Greece, Thailand, Iceland, and Morocco. I've hiked volcanoes and taken cooking classes and gotten lost in medinas. I've eaten alone in restaurants where I couldn't read the menu. I've made friends I still text. I've discovered parts of myself I'd forgotten existed.

My kids are proud of me now. They send me destination suggestions. They tell their friends about their mom who travels alone.

And me? I'm finally living for myself. Not selfishly. Fully.

If you're sitting there at 50, 55, 60, wondering if it's too late to start traveling solo, let me tell you what I wish someone had told me: It's not too late. You're not too old. You're exactly where you need to be.

The world is waiting. And so is the version of yourself you haven't met yet.

All you have to do is go.