Embrace a transformative journey of self-exploration—discover independence and freedom through a narrative that traces a one-year journey of solo travel. Immerse in the shared tales of fresh connections, inspiring locales, and internal battles, to understand how this journey moulded my perception of independence.

I was on the brink of my thirties, seated comfortably within life's bubble: a paycheck-oriented job, a predictable set of routines, flatmates who felt like family, and a small town called home. And yet, there was a hollow longing—a persistent urge for something more undefined, untamed, and adventurous. Friends labelled this itch the classic 'pre-thirty crisis', but to me, it was a call to explore a facet of life I had never allowed myself to embrace.

Taking a page from Christopher Columbus's diary, I turned in my resignation, packed up my life into a backpack, bid farewell to my comfort zone and embarked on a year-long journey into the unknown. I was about to travel solo across the globe, armed only with a couple of language dictionaries, a jumble of currencies, and an insatiable appetite for new experiences. Little did I know, this journey would gift me an unprecedented perception of independence.

Being alone had always triggered anxiety in me, but as I watched the sunset from a train window in Trans-Siberia, I began to revel in the solitude. Finding comfort in my own company was a pleasant surprise. It was during these solitary moments—taking in the vivid sunsets, navigating through unfamiliar streets, sampling local cuisines—that I discovered the color of my soul. The solitude crossed over from fear to freedom, and it was exhilarating.

The maze of Venetian alleys, the clamour of markets in Marrakech, the rugged Himalayan passes, the language barriers, the occasional lost belongings—all these hurdles were tough, but every challenge unravelled the dependable friend I was yet to acknowledge: independence. It wasn’t just about navigating alone—it was about making decisions when lost, conversing in a foreign tongue, and problem-solving when things went awry. Each obstacle quickened my step towards understanding true independence.

My solo journey was not bereft of companionship. Rather, it revealed a deeper sense of connecting with others. With every new city, I found connections that transcended language and cultural borders—whether it was Monica, a lively septuagenarian from Florence who invited me for home-cooked pasta, or Tenzin, a Tibetan monk who taught me the art of meditation. These shared stories from diverse backgrounds further broadened my horizon, subtly inspiring an interdependent independence.

My year of solo travel culminated back in the familiar bends of my small town, but I was returning, not as the woman who left, but as a woman reshaped by her understanding of independence. I realized independence was not just financial—it was emotional, intellectual, and relational. It meant being comfortable in solitude, defying challenges with composure, being decisive yet flexible and forging connections that nurture diversity. Independence, as I now understood it, was not about being alone—it was about being complete on my own.