There are evenings when the washing up has been done, the house has finally gone quiet and I make myself one last cup of tea before settling into my favourite chair. I tell myself I’ll spend ten minutes browsing online before heading to bed. Ten minutes somehow turns into an hour, and before I know it I’m looking at photographs of cobbled streets, cosy cafés, mountain views and little boutique hotels tucked away in places I’ve only ever dreamed about.
It wasn’t always like this.
For a long time, I thought travelling alone was something other women did. The adventurous ones. The confident ones. The women who seemed to breeze through airports with nothing more than a backpack slung over one shoulder, somehow knowing exactly where they were going. I admired them from a distance while quietly convincing myself that I wasn’t built that way.
As the years have passed, something has shifted so I began to research the places I believe I could travel alone to
Perhaps it’s because I’ve realised that life has a habit of moving much faster than we expect. Perhaps it’s because I’ve watched too many opportunities drift by while waiting for someone else’s schedule to match mine. Or perhaps it’s simply because I’ve reached a stage where the idea of waiting for “someday” feels far less appealing than it once did.
These days I find myself researching destinations that seem to welcome solo travellers with open arms. I read travel blogs, watch videos, compare hotels and quietly imagine what it would feel like to step off a plane knowing the next few days belong entirely to me.
I haven’t wandered through the lantern-lit streets of Kyoto or watched the midnight sun in Iceland. I haven’t enjoyed coffee in a little Portuguese square while listening to church bells echo through centuries-old streets. What I have done is spend countless enjoyable hours learning about these places, reading the experiences of women who have travelled there on their own and slowly replacing fear with curiosity.
Something rather lovely has happened along the way.
Instead of asking myself, “Could I really do that?” I’ve started asking, “Why couldn’t I?”
This isn’t a list of the world’s cheapest destinations or even the most famous ones. These are simply the places that have quietly convinced me that travelling alone might not be nearly as frightening as I’d imagined. Each one seems to offer something different. Some promise peace. Others promise adventure. A few simply make me smile every time I see another photograph.
If you’re sitting with your own cup of tea wondering whether solo travel could ever become part of your story, perhaps you’ll find yourself adding a few of these places to your own bucket list too.
The first time I started reading about Kyoto, I expected to be captivated by the famous temples and cherry blossom trees. Those certainly lived up to every photograph I’d ever seen, but they weren’t what stayed with me. It was the atmosphere.
Again and again I found travellers describing Kyoto as calm, respectful and quietly beautiful. There was very little talk of rushing from one attraction to another. Instead, people wrote about peaceful morning walks, tiny tea houses hidden down narrow lanes and gardens designed to encourage you to slow your breathing without even realising it.
As someone who can become overwhelmed by noisy crowds and frantic schedules, that immediately appealed to me. I imagine arriving early in the morning while the streets are still waking up. Perhaps I’d find a small café serving fresh pastries and excellent coffee before wandering through one of Kyoto’s famous bamboo forests. I can almost picture myself stopping every few minutes to take another photograph, not because I’m trying to create the perfect Instagram post but because I’d genuinely want to remember how it felt.
One thing that keeps appearing during my research is how incredibly polite and considerate Japanese culture is. People speak quietly on public transport, queues are respected and kindness seems woven into everyday interactions. That doesn’t mean nothing ever goes wrong, of course, but there is something reassuring about reading so many accounts from women who say they felt comfortable exploring on their own.
I’d probably still manage to get myself wonderfully lost at least once. That’s almost guaranteed. Fortunately, getting lost in Kyoto seems less like a disaster and more like an opportunity to discover another peaceful garden or another tiny bakery that wasn’t on the original plan anyway.
Perhaps that’s part of travelling alone that I’m beginning to understand. Sometimes the unexpected moments become the stories we remember most.
There is something about Iceland that feels almost magical before you’ve even arrived. Maybe it’s the dramatic landscapes that seem untouched by time. Maybe it’s the photographs of waterfalls cascading over black volcanic rock or the thought of standing beneath the dancing colours of the Northern Lights. Whatever it is, Iceland has steadily climbed higher and higher on my bucket list.
The more I researched ReykjavÃk, the more I noticed one word appearing again and again.
Safe.
Now, nowhere in the world comes with guarantees, and I think it’s wise to approach every destination with common sense. Still, it was encouraging to read how many solo female travellers spoke about feeling relaxed while exploring the city.
I smiled when I discovered just how many people spend their evenings soaking in naturally heated geothermal pools. Imagine ending a day of sightseeing by slipping into warm water while crisp mountain air surrounds you. It sounds wonderfully indulgent and somehow incredibly normal at the same time.
Then there are the cafés. If you’ve read enough of my blogs, you’ll already know I have a soft spot for cosy cafés. ReykjavÃk appears to have plenty of them. The idea of sitting beside a window with a steaming mug of hot chocolate while watching snow drift gently outside feels like something from a novel.
Would I still feel nervous boarding the plane? Almost certainly. But ReykjavÃk has become one of those places that quietly whispers, “You can do this.” Sometimes that’s exactly the encouragement we need.
If Kyoto feels peaceful and ReykjavÃk feels adventurous, Porto feels welcoming. Every article I read seems filled with warm smiles, colourful riverside buildings and leisurely afternoons that stretch into long evenings without anyone watching the clock.There is something wonderfully unhurried about the city.
The famous tiled buildings, charming trams and views across the Douro River make Porto look like somewhere that rewards slow exploration rather than rushing between landmarks. I suspect I’d spend far too much time wandering little back streets simply because they looked interesting.
One thing I particularly appreciate is that Porto appears to offer excellent value compared with many other European destinations. As much as I’d love unlimited travel funds, my reality involves budgets, comparing accommodation prices and occasionally convincing myself that buying another pastry absolutely counts as cultural research. I think many of us travel like that.
Reading about Porto has also reminded me that travelling alone doesn’t mean filling every minute with activities. Some of the happiest travellers describe sitting beside the river with a coffee, watching boats drift past or enjoying a simple meal while listening to conversations they don’t even understand.
There’s something oddly comforting about that thought. For once, nobody would be asking where we’re going next. Nobody would be checking the time. Nobody would mind if I spent twenty minutes deciding which flavour of gelato looked the most appealing. Although, knowing me, I’d probably still choose chocolate.
Some cities seem to tell stories before you’ve even stepped into them. Edinburgh is one of those places. Every photograph seems to reveal another historic building perched on a hill, another narrow alleyway disappearing between ancient stone walls or another cosy bookshop inviting you inside. I’ve always loved places with character, and Edinburgh appears to have it in abundance.
One of the reasons it continues to hold my attention is because it feels wonderfully familiar. As someone from South Africa, the shared language immediately removes one small layer of uncertainty. It may seem like a little thing, but when you’re imagining your first solo trip, those little comforts matter more than we sometimes admit.
I can picture myself spending hours exploring Edinburgh Castle before wandering down the Royal Mile, popping into tiny independent shops and stopping for afternoon tea somewhere overlooking the city. I’d almost certainly end up buying far too many books. They’d somehow need to fit into my suitcase coming home. Future Sharon could worry about that later.
The more I learn about Edinburgh, the more it feels like a city where travelling alone wouldn’t feel lonely. There seems to be a wonderful balance between history, culture and everyday life. It isn’t trying to entertain you every second. Instead, it quietly invites you to become part of its story for a little while. Perhaps that’s what I’m searching for most in these destinations. Not somewhere that constantly dazzles me but rather, somewhere that simply makes me feel welcome.
As I continue adding places to my ever-growing bucket list, I’m beginning to realise that researching them has already changed me in ways I never expected. Every article I read, every travel diary I stumble across and every photograph that makes me pause for a few moments longer chips away at the belief that travelling alone is only for fearless people.
Maybe courage doesn’t arrive all at once. Maybe it grows quietly while we’re planning a trip we haven’t booked yet, saving destinations we’ll visit one day and slowly believing that we’re far more capable than we first imagined. And if that’s true, then perhaps my first solo adventure has already begun, long before I’ve packed a suitcase.
Some places seem to shout for your attention whilst others simply smile quietly from the corner until you eventually notice them. That is exactly how I discovered Ljubljana.
It wasn’t a destination that appeared on every travel programme or featured endlessly on social media. Instead, it kept popping up while I was researching places that solo female travellers genuinely enjoyed. Every time I thought I’d settled on another country, someone would casually mention Slovenia’s charming capital as one of Europe’s best-kept secrets. After the fifth or sixth recommendation, curiosity got the better of me.
The photographs immediately drew me in. A gentle river winds through the heart of the city, crossed by elegant bridges and lined with outdoor cafés where people seem to have mastered the art of lingering. Rather than rushing from one appointment to the next, they sit together over coffee, watching cyclists glide past while church bells ring somewhere in the distance. It all feels wonderfully civilised.
The more I read, the more I found myself imagining what a few days there might look like. I don’t picture myself racing from museum to museum with an itinerary planned down to the minute. Instead, I imagine slow mornings wandering through local markets, stopping to admire flower stalls bursting with colour before finding a quiet café where I could sit with my notebook and simply watch the city wake up.
I suspect I’d spend far too much time beside the river. There is something about water that encourages us to slow down, and Ljubljana seems built around that idea. Every bridge appears to offer another beautiful photograph, every side street another hidden restaurant or little bookshop waiting to be discovered.
One detail that particularly caught my attention was how compact the city is. Many of the attractions are within easy walking distance, something that feels reassuring when you’re imagining your first solo adventure. There’s a certain comfort in knowing that you don’t need to master an underground railway system or spend half your holiday staring nervously at transport maps.
I also smiled when I discovered that Ljubljana has earned a reputation as one of Europe’s greenest cities. Trees line many of the streets, parks seem to appear around every corner and sustainability isn’t simply a fashionable word but something woven into everyday life.
Perhaps that’s another reason it keeps finding its way back onto my bucket list. It doesn’t seem to be trying to impress anyone. It simply appears to know exactly who it is.
If there is one destination that repeatedly appears whenever women talk about travelling alone for the first time, it’s Singapore. At first I wondered why but after spending several evenings reading travel stories and watching videos, I quickly understood. Everything seems designed to make life just a little bit easier.
The public transport system is clean, efficient and remarkably simple to understand. English is widely spoken, making communication far less intimidating for many visitors. The streets are famously clean, and travellers consistently describe feeling comfortable while exploring both during the day and in the evening.
Reading those experiences felt reassuring. When you’re imagining travelling alone for the very first time, removing even one layer of uncertainty makes a tremendous difference. Of course, Singapore isn’t simply practical. It also looks absolutely fascinating.
One moment you’re surrounded by futuristic skyscrapers that seem to belong in the next century, and the next you’re wandering through neighbourhoods filled with colourful shophouses, bustling markets and centuries-old traditions. It feels as though dozens of cultures have somehow learned to live together while each retaining their own unique identity.
I already know one of my greatest challenges would be the food. How exactly does one choose between Chinese dumplings, Indian curries, Malay dishes and fresh seafood when everything looks delicious? The honest answer is probably very badly. I’d almost certainly convince myself that ordering dessert was simply another way of appreciating the local culture.
Research, after all, can be wonderfully enjoyable.
Gardens by the Bay has become another place I keep returning to whenever I need a little travel inspiration. Those towering Supertrees look almost unreal, especially when they’re illuminated after sunset. I imagine standing beneath them with hundreds of other visitors, all looking upwards with exactly the same expression of childlike wonder.
Moments like that remind me why I keep researching places I haven’t visited yet. The world still has an incredible ability to surprise us.
There are certain cities that seem to invite you to slow your pace without ever asking you to. Vienna feels like one of them. Whenever I see photographs of elegant coffee houses with marble tables, grand old buildings and beautifully dressed pastries displayed behind glass counters, I find myself wondering how many hours I could happily spend there. The answer is probably more than I should admit.
One thing I’ve noticed while researching Vienna is how often travellers speak about simply enjoying the atmosphere. There doesn’t seem to be constant pressure to tick attractions off a list. Instead, people describe sitting in cafés with a good book, listening to classical musicians performing in public squares and wandering through museums that deserve far more time than a hurried visit allows.
That sounds wonderfully refreshing. We’re often encouraged to see as much as possible when we travel. Perhaps there’s equal value in seeing less, but experiencing it more deeply.
I imagine beginning each morning with fresh coffee and warm pastries before choosing just one or two places to explore that day. Maybe an art gallery. Perhaps a beautiful palace. Afterwards I’d wander wherever the streets happened to lead, allowing curiosity rather than a timetable to decide the afternoon.
Would I occasionally sit on a park bench doing absolutely nothing? Without question. I’ve reached an age where doing nothing occasionally feels like a remarkable luxury.
Vienna also appeals to the quieter part of my personality. Not every holiday has to involve adrenaline and endless activity. Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is permission to wander without purpose, to linger over lunch without checking the time and to sit beside a fountain simply because the sunshine feels lovely on our face.
Those simple moments rarely make it onto postcards yet somehow they become the memories we treasure most.
When I first started researching Queenstown, I assumed it would be far too adventurous for me. Every photograph seemed to feature people jumping off bridges, racing down mountainsides or throwing themselves out of perfectly good aeroplanes attached to parachutes. I was fairly certain my heart rate increased just looking at them.
Thankfully, the more I researched, the more I realised there is another side to Queenstown. Yes, it’s famous for adventure sports but it’s also surrounded by some of the most breathtaking scenery imaginable.
Snow-capped mountains reflect in crystal-clear lakes while walking trails wind through landscapes that almost look as though they’ve been painted rather than photographed. Even if I never gathered the courage to bungy jump—and let’s be honest, that’s highly unlikely—I could still spend days soaking up the incredible beauty surrounding the town.
I suspect I’d become very familiar with the lakeside walking paths. Perhaps I’d take a gentle boat cruise or ride the Skyline Gondola for panoramic views without requiring my heart to leave my chest in the process.That seems much more my style.
Reading other women’s experiences also reminded me that solo travel doesn’t require us to transform into someone completely different. I don’t suddenly need to become an adrenaline junkie simply because I’ve boarded an international flight. If my perfect afternoon involves sitting beside a lake with a sandwich, a good book and spectacular mountain views, that’s every bit as valid as climbing a glacier or skydiving from thousands of feet above the ground.
There is something wonderfully freeing about that realisation. Travelling alone isn’t about becoming someone else, it’s about discovering that the person you already are is enough.
The more destinations I research, the more I notice that I’m drawn towards places that seem comfortable in their own skin. Copenhagen is another one. Rather than trying to impress visitors with flashy attractions, it quietly wins people over through everyday life. Bicycles outnumber cars in many parts of the city. Beautiful canals reflect colourful buildings. Locals gather in parks with picnic blankets, coffee and good conversation as though they’ve discovered a secret the rest of us are only beginning to understand.
One Danish word appears so often that I’ve become rather fond of it.
Hygge.
Although there isn’t a perfect English translation, it speaks of comfort, warmth, contentment and enjoying life’s simple pleasures. To be honest, it sounds remarkably similar to what Rustic Daisy has always tried to create. Perhaps that’s why Copenhagen keeps pulling me back.
I imagine hiring a bicycle—assuming I could avoid wobbling into flower beds—and spending the day slowly exploring neighbourhoods that tourists sometimes overlook. I’d stop whenever something caught my eye, whether that happened to be a bakery with irresistible cinnamon buns or a tiny independent bookshop tucked between two cafés.
Knowing my luck, I’d probably buy another book I didn’t have room for. My suitcase would once again become tomorrow’s problem.
The more stories I read from women who have travelled there alone, the more Copenhagen feels less like a destination and more like an invitation. An invitation to slow down and notice the details. To trust myself just a little more than I did yesterday. Perhaps that’s what all of these places have quietly been teaching me. Not simply where I might travel one day but who I might become if I finally found the courage to go.
Sometimes I catch myself looking halfway around the world for inspiration while forgetting just how extraordinary my own country can be. I’ll happily spend an evening reading about hidden streets in Portugal or mountain villages in Slovenia, only to stumble across another international travel article praising Cape Town as one of the most beautiful cities on earth. Every time that happens, I feel a little swell of pride. Perhaps we don’t always appreciate what is close to us because it has become familiar, but seeing South Africa through the eyes of visitors reminds me that we have places people dream about their whole lives. It also makes me wonder how many adventures I’ve overlooked simply because they were closer to home than I expected.
As I’ve researched Cape Town through the experiences of women who have travelled there on their own, one theme appears again and again. They speak about its breathtaking scenery, its incredible variety and the feeling that every day can be completely different from the one before. Of course, they also speak honestly about being sensible, planning ahead and taking the same precautions they would in any large city around the world. I appreciate that honesty because it feels realistic rather than alarmist. No destination is perfect, and pretending otherwise helps nobody. What reassures me is knowing that with good planning, reputable accommodation and a little common sense, so many women have enjoyed memorable solo visits to one of the most spectacular cities on the African continent.
When I picture my own visit, I don’t imagine trying to squeeze every famous attraction into three frantic days. I imagine slow breakfasts overlooking the Atlantic Ocean while deciding where the day might take me. One morning could begin with a gentle walk along the Sea Point Promenade, watching runners, dog walkers and cyclists all sharing the same stretch of coastline while the fresh sea air wakes up the city. Another afternoon might be spent wandering through the colourful streets of Bo-Kaap, camera in hand, stopping far too often because every brightly painted house deserves another photograph. Knowing myself, I’d almost certainly end the day in a little café with excellent coffee, something delicious that I absolutely didn’t need and a notebook full of observations that would probably become another Rustic Daisy blog one day.
If Cape Town reminds me not to overlook what’s close to home, Banff reminds me that the world still has the power to leave me completely speechless. Every photograph I have seen looks almost too beautiful to be real. The lakes shimmer in impossible shades of turquoise, mountains rise dramatically behind forests that seem to stretch forever and little wooden lodges look as though they’ve stepped straight out of a Christmas film. More than once I’ve found myself zooming in on photographs, convinced the colours must have been edited, only to discover that travellers insist the scenery is every bit as breathtaking in real life.
Reading the stories of women who have travelled there alone has been just as inspiring as looking at the photographs. Again and again they describe early morning walks beside quiet lakes, friendly conversations with fellow travellers and the simple joy of spending time surrounded by nature. There is something rather comforting about destinations where people seem united by a shared appreciation for the landscape rather than a race to tick attractions off a list. I imagine that even complete strangers would end up chatting while waiting for the perfect sunrise or hoping to spot a deer quietly wandering through the trees. Those little moments of connection remind me that travelling alone doesn’t necessarily mean feeling lonely.
I already know exactly what sort of traveller I’d be in Banff. While other people queued for the most daring adventures, I’d probably be searching for the best viewpoint with a flask of hot chocolate tucked into my backpack. Comfortable walking shoes would become my most valuable possession, my camera battery would constantly need charging and my phone would almost certainly run out of storage because I’d convince myself that every mountain deserved just one more photograph. The funny thing is that none of those pictures would ever capture how it actually felt to stand there. Some places seem to reach beyond what a camera can record, and I have a feeling Banff would be one of them.
One of the biggest surprises during all this research has been discovering that solo travel isn’t really about destinations at all. Somewhere between reading travel blogs, watching interviews and following the stories of women who finally decided to book that ticket, my attention quietly shifted away from the places themselves.
I became fascinated by the people telling the stories. They weren’t fearless explorers with unlimited budgets or years of travel experience behind them. They were teachers, nurses, mothers, retirees, business owners and ordinary women who had simply reached a point where waiting for the perfect travel companion no longer felt like the right answer.
Many of them admitted they were nervous before they left home. They worried about airports, language barriers, getting lost, eating alone and wondering whether they had made a terrible mistake. I smiled more than once because their fears sounded remarkably familiar. Somewhere along the line I’d convinced myself that confident solo travellers must possess a quality I simply didn’t have, but their stories painted a very different picture. Confidence wasn’t something they packed into their suitcase before leaving. It grew quietly after they had boarded the plane, figured out the train system, found their hotel and realised they were capable of far more than they had imagined.
That thought has stayed with me ever since. Perhaps courage isn’t the absence of fear at all. Perhaps it’s making room for curiosity to sit alongside it. The more I read, the more I noticed my own questions beginning to change. At first I was searching for the safest neighbourhoods, the easiest transport systems and the hotels with the best reviews. Those things still matter, of course, but now I find myself lingering over photographs of flower markets, little independent bookshops, hidden bakeries and peaceful riverside cafés. Somehow my imagination has quietly moved beyond wondering whether I could travel alone and started imagining where I’d stop for coffee along the way. That feels like a rather wonderful kind of progress.
Will I ever visit every destination on this list? Probably not, and I’m perfectly comfortable admitting that. Life has a habit of taking unexpected turns, introducing new dreams while gently reshaping old ones. Some places will remain beautiful photographs tucked inside a folder on my computer, while others may one day become boarding passes, passport stamps and treasured memories. There is something comforting about knowing that the possibilities remain open, even if I haven’t decided exactly when to begin.
I often picture what that first solo trip might feel like. I’d probably check my passport far more times than necessary, arrive at the airport embarrassingly early and spend the first hour convinced I’d forgotten something important. My suitcase would almost certainly contain too many clothes “just in case”, and I’d laugh at myself for packing three pairs of comfortable shoes when one would have been more than enough. Somewhere between the airport coffee and boarding the aircraft, I’d probably ask myself whether I was completely mad for doing this on my own. Then I’d remember all the women whose stories had encouraged me, take a deep breath and keep walking towards the departure gate.
The more I think about it, the more I realise this article was never really about finding the perfect destination. It became something much more personal. It became a reminder that dreams don’t have an expiry date and that waiting until we feel completely ready often means waiting forever. There will probably never be a moment when every doubt disappears, every question has been answered and every detail has been perfectly planned. Sometimes the only thing that changes is our willingness to believe we are capable of taking the next small step.
If your own bucket list looks completely different from mine, I hope you’ll keep adding to it anyway. Perhaps you’ve always dreamed of wandering through the fjords of Norway, exploring the villages of Ireland, discovering the Greek Islands or simply enjoying a peaceful weekend away a few hours from home. Every adventure begins in exactly the same place, with a quiet thought that grows stronger each time we allow ourselves to imagine it. You don’t need to have every answer before you begin dreaming, and you certainly don’t need anyone else’s permission to explore the world in a way that feels right for you.
As for me, I’ll keep researching. I’ll keep saving articles that make me smile, collecting photographs that inspire me and reading the stories of women who quietly remind me that ordinary people achieve extraordinary things every day. One day I hope to replace some of those bookmarked pages with memories of my own. Until then, I’m quite content allowing those dreams to grow a little stronger with every cup of tea, every evening spent planning and every destination that whispers, “Perhaps it’s time.”
If you’ve enjoyed dreaming about future adventures with me, you might also enjoy these travel articles from Rustic Daisy. They celebrate beautiful destinations, meaningful journeys and the simple pleasure of discovering somewhere new, whether it’s on the other side of the world or just around the corner.
Most Colourful Towns in the World
Weekend Getaways Within Two Hours of Durban
Mountain Caravan Destinations Worth the Drive
Why Travel Heals the Soul After Difficult Seasons
Living Large in a Tiny Space: Memories That Last a Lifetime
Wherever you are today, I hope you find something beautiful to notice.
Until next time…
Stay curious. Stay kind. Keep finding the beauty in everyday life.
