How a Solo Trip Taught Me the Alchemy of Alone

How a Solo Trip Taught Me the Alchemy of Alone: A Complete Guide

The empty seat beside me on that Gatwick-bound flight seemed to yawn with judgement. Who travels alone? I’d wondered, fidgeting with my boarding pass. Just months before, solitude felt like a cage. Then came the divorce papers, and suddenly, a quiet weekend in Portugal became my rebellion.

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It started pragmatically: searching Gatwick airport cheap parking at 2am. Booking a meet-and-greet deal felt radical – no frantic drop-offs or train delays. Just driving to North Terminal, handing my keys to Brenda (who called me "love" and promised my Fiesta would nap safely), and walking into departures with time to actually breathe.

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Lisbon unfolded softly:

● 7am: Pastéis de nata at a tile-clad bakery, no rushed sharing

● 11am: Losing hours in MUDE museum’s shadowy galleries, answering to no one’s pace

● 4pm: Getting gloriously lost in Alfama’s staircases, following fado music like breadcrumbs

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The loneliness myth dissolved somewhere between that first custard tart and realising I’d wandered for three hours without checking my phone. Solitude, I learned, isn’t emptiness – it’s a vessel you fill with your own curiosities.

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Flying home, the seat beside me stayed empty. I didn’t notice. My journal lay open, scribbled with names of azulejo artisans I’d met. The £11/day parking fee? A bargain for the revelation that followed me through Arrivals: being alone isn’t a condition to cure. It’s a landscape to explore.

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Now I hunt airport parking deals like treasure maps. Each booking whispers: Your next self waits beyond the gate.