Solo Travel: A Messy, Imperfect Adventure in Copenhagen

“I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it.”

 – Rosalia de Castro

Snow has fallen. Quite a considerable amount of snow has fallen and this has resulted in Maia’s nursery being closed and Grandma not being able to drive to work. So in effect it’s a SNOW-DAY, they are currently outside taking photos. I am sat at my desk, with a cup of coffee, admiring how beautiful my garden looks in the snow, contemplating going out into THE BITTER COLD. (Yes, it’s idyllic, it’s glorious, picture perfect…but it’s also f****** freezing.) I will no doubt venture out later…it’s not every day your garden looks like something out of a winter-based-fairy-tale….

Speaking of fairy-tales..I will pick up where I left off on my travel posts: Copenhagen. I was only there for two nights, but I enjoyed my brief stay, read about my first night at Woodah Hostel right here. 

Despite the hostel being perfectly adequate, thanks to a small collection of snorers I didn’t get all that much sleep on my first night; so my first and only proper day in Copenhagen was spent in a sort of zombie-like haze. Slightly out of character, I avoided all museums and most tourist spots. I didn’t make a list of all my go-to places like in Prague and Budapest. I knew I’d be missing out but all I really felt like doing was wandering round outside, at my own pace, taking it all in. And that I did. Very much at my own pace. It was great.

“I think one travels more usefully when they travel alone, because they reflect more.”

– Thomas Jefferson

I took photos of buildings that made me smile. I nosied around residential areas and imagined what it must be like to live in such a city, ride my bike to work and feel safe doing it. I admired the architecture, the fashion, the colours along Nyhavn. I explored Christiania, did some souvenir shopping, and spent over an hour in a bookshop perusing through books I could have probably found in a Foyles in London, but at the time seemed so fitting that I came across there and then. I sat and sipped over-priced coffee, half-reading half people watching. I reflected and allowed myself to just be.  

It was one of those days I will never forget, and my soul felt truly fed by the end of it. I returned to England the following day knowing I needed to do this again, and again, and again.- For the sake of my mental health if anything.

Travelling solo was one experience that reminded me I was perfectly okay in this big scary world, going on these adventures, all on my own. There really was something to be said for taking these trips unaccompanied. Whether it be the time to reflect, or the feeling of empowerment, I knew I would never regret going about this all alone.

I found myself looking at life differently, as more of a messy, imperfect adventure that we have to embrace rather than something I had to be afraid of failing in. I was always so afraid to make mistakes, I still am. I’m still learning.

“I love that I am but one of millions of single girls hitting the road by themselves these days. A hateful little ex-boyfriend once said that a houseful of cats used to be the sign of a terminally single woman, but not it’s a house full of souvenirs acquired on foreign adventures. He said it derogatorily: Look at all of this tragic overcompensating in the form of tribal masks and rain sticks. But I say that plane tickets replacing cats might be the best evidence of women’s progress as a gender. I’m damn proud of us. Also, since I have both a cat and a lot of foreign souvenirs, I broke up with that dude and went on a really great trip.” ―Kristin Newman, What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding