Cabo for One: What I Learned By Conquering My Fear of Solo Travel

"I realized how many fear their own company. They don’t know what to do when there’s no one to distract them from themselves."

Check-in for one.

“Just you?” The question followed me throughout the trip. There’s something about traveling alone that sparks a lot of queries and even more curious eyes. 

“Just me,” I said with a confident smile as I slid my card across the counter. 

I sipped the herbal beverage offered by the concierge and took in my surroundings while the front desk attendant rapidly typed in my information.

The hotel was beautiful. The kind of pristine white and neutral color palette that would normally disinterest me, but this place was artfully designed and tastefully decorated. More museum than monotone. With water surrounding a narrow walkway that parted ways to different destinations— restaurants to the left, the beach ahead, my room to the right. I exhaled a sigh of relief that my home for the next three days was just as breathtaking as social media had described. 

I’ve always wanted to take a solo trip. Something about traveling abroad without the comfort of friends and family scared me a little, which made me want to do it even more. While I’m no stranger to moving alone, I find solace in knowing that there’s usually someone journeying with me to foreign lands. But this year I wanted something different. I wanted to not only step outside of my comfort zone but also to embrace the peace and clarity that only stillness can provide. 

Room for one.

“I’m going on a solo trip,” I responded whenever someone asked what my plans were for my birthday. The statement was often met with looks of intrigue, and perhaps a bit of bewilderment as to why I would choose to be alone, in a foreign country, on my birthday—no less. 

I must admit that I questioned the decision a couple of times myself. Birthdays are the one time of year when I can take a break from celebrating everyone else and be celebrated. But it’s also something that often only gets the spotlight if I’m the one planning it.

And for the last couple of years, planning has been the last thing I felt like doing. I was starting to find self-centered celebrations to be a stressful endeavor. Figuring out where to go, who to invite, and what outfits to purchase (only for the outfits to not look as I had hoped). Organizing, waiting to see who would drop out last minute and drive up the costs a little more. By the time I finished planning and prepping, I would find myself emotionally fatigued and lacking enthusiasm for the trip to come. 

This year I just wanted to go and to be without the pressure of performing for the world to see. There would be no premeditated photo shoots. What I sacrificed in clothing hauls and beauty routines I made up for in high-quality accommodations. This trip wasn’t about what would look great on social media, it was about what would feel good to my soul. With the perfect kind of bourgeois niceties that made you aspire for more than an average existence. I gave to myself (within my budget) how I desired to be treated—the best.

As I opened the door to my complimentary upgraded room (the first room was met with a lovely birthday surprise from my mom, but was a little too close to the noise of happy vacationers), I said a quiet prayer as I walked in awe throughout the suite. 

Thank you, Father God, for providing me with the means to be able to experience this moment. For the opportunity to rest in a space that sparks joy.

I was also thankful that I decided to come on my own. It allowed me to experience the quiet solitude of the hotel in a way that I wouldn’t have if I was with others. I could go where I wanted and move at my own pace without considering how everyone else would feel or feel the need to entertain them. 

I casually moved about the property, stopping occasionally to snap a photo or two of aesthetically pleasing spaces. I treated myself to piña coladas on the beach as the sun set, and eucalyptus-filled steam rooms in the spa. I swam a few laps in an overlooked and under-used rooftop pool that I was quite sure most people didn’t realize existed and dipped my toes in the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean.

I did what I wanted, when I wanted—freedom at its finest.

Table for one.

I’ve always found eating alone at restaurants to be a little awkward. On one hand, I desire to be fully present and detached from my phone. Maybe lock eyes with a cute stranger and spark a conversation that carries well into the night. But I find that rarely happens. Instead, you’re looking around watching others who are mostly coupled or in groups, trying not to stare. The bartender whirs to and fro as they mix together alcoholic concoctions, and even if there is someone joining in on your solo experience, their eyes are usually glued to their phones. Go figure.

But a solo birthday dinner in a beautiful country? Well, that’s different. You’re taking in your surroundings, chuckling at the drunken happenings around you, or tuning into too loud conversations that you can’t help but be privy to—keenly aware, but mildly amused. 

And for some reason, everyone wants to talk to you. The waiters are extra friendly and attentive. The guests want to do you favors you didn’t ask for and snap photos because they like how your outfit matches the sunset. Your new next-table neighbors smile and clap as they sing along to the embarrassing happy birthday song that even fancy restaurants insist on chanting. You’re both the center of attention and the object of curiosity. 

Who is this person who dresses up and dines alone? 

It makes me realize how many fear their own company. They don’t know what to do when there’s no one to distract them from themselves. They’re afraid to look unpopular or unwanted. They fear the questions that they imagine other people are asking. 

But I find that being alone is an invitation to truly know oneself. Deep ruminations turn into much-needed revelations. There’s a sense of empowerment that comes with being willing to do what others won’t. It’s in solitude that time slows to allow quiet reflection. And as a bonus, you feel badass when at the end of it all you pay for your check and walk away having accomplished your task for the day. 

While I somewhat seriously declared this as my only solo birthday trip because next year, God-willing, I’m shedding the single title, I don’t believe this solo trip will be my last. There’s so much to gain in the absence of others. So many more parts of myself that I want to explore.

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