I've Traveled to 20+ Countries — 7 of them Solo. Here's Why I'm Done.
Cuba 2015
from Randi Williams
I need to tell you something that feels almost blasphemous to admit in the travel community: I'm tired of traveling alone.
Not tired of travel—I still get that flutter in my chest when I book a flight. Still screenshot good flight deals at 2am. Still lose hours scrolling through photos of places I haven't been yet.
But the solo part? I'm over it.
This admission feels like betrayal. For years, I was that friend. The one who'd head off to a new adventure in Kyrgyzstan by herself without blinking. The one who'd spend a long weekend in a new city like it was nothing. The one posting sunset photos with captions about finding yourself and being brave and all the things we say to make solo travel sound like the ultimate form of self-actualization.
And listen—I meant every word. There's real power in navigating a foreign city on your own. In figuring out the trains, the tipping customs, the "where the hell is my Airbnb" moments. In proving to yourself that you can.
I've done it. Navigated countless cities where I didn't speak the language, didn't know a soul, and figured it out anyway.
But somewhere between trip 15 and 20, something shifted.
I was sitting in this cute Chinese restaurant in Mexico City — 2 months into a 3-month sabbatical I had been dreaming about taking for year. I had my phone propped up trying to get the angle right for a photo. It felt like the waiter kept giving me sympathetic looks. And I just thought… I wish someone was here with me right now.
Not because I needed help. Not because I couldn't handle it. But because some moments are just better shared.
That's when I realized — I don't need to keep proving I can do this alone.
The Things Nobody Tells You About Solo Travel
Here's what I learned after 20+ countries, 7 of them on my own—the parts that don't make it into the Instagram captions:
1. You can be fiercely independent and still crave company
For the longest time, I thought these were mutually exclusive. That if I wanted to travel with others, it meant I was somehow less capable. Less adventurous. Less something.
But that's not it at all.
I can navigate the Bishkek marshrutka system and still wish I had someone to laugh with about how chaotic it is. I can book my own trips and still want someone to turn to when the sunset is breathtaking and say "are you seeing this?"
Independence and connection aren't opposites. They're both valid needs that can coexist.
Thailand 2016 with my Howard University MBA classmate before I ventured off to Bali solo
2. The hyper-vigilance never fully goes away
Every city, every neighborhood, every interaction requires a calculation:
Is this street safe to walk down at night?
Should I take this taxi or is that sketchy?
Can I have that second glass of wine or do I need to stay alert?
Is that person following me or am I being paranoid?
As a Black woman traveling alone, that mental load is constant. And it's exhausting.
Even in cities where I felt relatively safe, I could never fully let my guard down. Part of my brain was always scanning, assessing, planning exit strategies.
I got good at it. But "good at it" doesn't mean it stopped being draining.
3. Being "the only one" gets old, no matter how confident you are
I've been the only Black woman in more hostels, museums, restaurants, and tour groups than I can count.
Sometimes it's fine. Sometimes it's whatever. Sometimes I see or hear something ignorant and I have to decide if I have the energy to educate or if I'm just going to finish my meal and leave.
What it never is? Restful.
There's a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from being hypervisible and invisible at the same time. From knowing you're representing every Black woman to people who've maybe never met one before. From code-switching so automatically you don't even realize you're doing it until you're alone in your room and can finally exhale.
Even when you feel safe and people are friendly, sometimes being too seen can be an unwanted load.
Solo travel means carrying that alone too.
4. Some moments are just better shared
One of the most breath-taking views I’ve ever seen was in a hot spring outside of Mexico City. It was truly magical and I took as many photos as I could. I asked the tour guide to take a few pics. I tried to capture the moment.
But when I got back to my Airbnb that night, there was no one to tell. No one who'd been there, who'd saw what I saw, who could reference it later and spark the memory all over again.
I have a camera roll full of incredible moments experienced alone. And while I'm grateful I got to see those things, there's a loneliness to unshared joy that nobody talks about.
5. You don't have to keep proving you can do it alone
This one took me the longest to learn.
I'd achieved the thing. I'd proven I could navigate the world on my own. I'd built confidence, independence, resilience—all the things solo travel promises.
So why was I still doing it?
Because I thought stopping meant I was going backward. That wanting company meant I was somehow less capable than I used to be.
But that's not what it means at all.
It means I've outgrown the need to prove anything. It means I'm secure enough in my capabilities that I can choose ease over demonstration. It means I know I can do it alone, so now I get to decide if I want to.
And increasingly, the answer is no.
6. Wanting ease doesn't make you less of a traveler
There's this underlying narrative in travel culture that hard equals worthy. That if you're not roughing it, not pushing yourself, not doing the absolute most, you're somehow not doing it right.
I internalized that for years. Every trip was a test. How much could I see? How many cities could I pack in? How early could I wake up to maximize the day?
I came back from trips exhausted. Needing a vacation from my vacation.
And at some point, I realized — this isn't actually fun anymore.
I was optimizing for productivity instead of enjoyment. For Instagram proof instead of actual presence.
The shift happened slowly. I started building in rest days. Saying no to activities that didn't actually interest me. Choosing slower mornings over packed itineraries.
And you know what? Those became my favorite trips.
Wanting to savor instead of speed through doesn't make you lazy. It makes you intentional.
What Changed (And What I'm Craving Now)
In the Blue Lagoon on our Iceland We Go Too trip (2017)
I still love travel. That hasn't changed.
What changed is how I want to travel.
I don't want to prove I can navigate a foreign city alone anymore. I've done that. Multiple times. In multiple languages. I know I can.
Now I want something different:
I want to share the moment when the food is so good I need to make eye contact with someone and just know they're experiencing the same thing.
I want to come back from a long day of exploring and have someone to debrief with. To process the incredible museum we just saw, or laugh about the wrong turn that led to the best neighborhood, or just sit in comfortable silence because we're both peopled out.
I want the safety of numbers without losing my autonomy. I want to know that if I'm tired, there are other people who can handle the logistics for a minute. That if something feels off, I'm not the only one making the call.
I want to stop being the only Black woman in every space. I want to walk into a room and see faces like mine. To not have to explain my hair, my skin, my existence. To just be without performance.
I want the group chat that's still active six months later. The inside jokes. The "remember when we..." moments. The friendships that outlive the trip.
I want ease. Not because I can't handle hard, but because I'm done choosing hard just to prove something.
What I'm Not Looking For
Iceland
Let me be clear about what I'm not craving:
I don't want forced bonding activities where we all pretend to have the same energy at the same time.
I don't want back-to-back activities from 6am to midnight with no breathing room.
I don't want to have to compromise myself into exhaustion just to be part of a group.
I don't want the typical group trip chaos I've seen friends deal with—the endless group chat negotiations, the person who's always late, the subtle pressure to be "on" constantly.
I've been on trips like that. They're somehow more exhausting than solo travel.
What I want is community without compromise. Connection that doesn't require me to shrink. A group small enough that we can actually know each other. An itinerary loose enough that I can opt out of something without guilt.
I want to travel with people who understand that rest is part of the experience, not a luxury.
The Permission I'm Giving Myself (And Maybe You Need Too)
You're allowed to change your mind about what you want from travel.
You're allowed to have loved solo travel and be done with it now.
You're allowed to want ease without being less adventurous.
You're allowed to crave community without being dependent.
You're allowed to be tired of being the only one—in the room, carrying the plan, holding the memories.
You're allowed to want something different than you wanted five years ago.
That's not regression. That's evolution.
I spent my twenties proving I could do hard things. I navigated four countries as a resident, not just a tourist. I figured out bureaucracy in languages I barely spoke. I built a life in Kyrgyzstan, for crying out loud.
I have nothing left to prove.
Now I'm choosing what actually feels good. What recharges me instead of depleting me. What creates memories I'll want to revisit instead of moments I had to white-knuckle through.
And for me, right now, that means traveling with other Black women who get it. Who value their independence and their peace. Who want cultural immersion without the exhaustion. Who understand that sometimes the best part of the day is the two-hour conversation over dinner that you didn't plan for.
What's Next
I'm not swearing off solo travel forever. I'm sure there will be trips where it's the right call. Weekend getaways. Quick city breaks. Even long stints abroad alone. Moments when solo feels like exactly what I need.
Accra, Ghana We Go Too Trip | 2019 Year of Return
But for the trips that matter—the ones I've been dreaming about, the ones I want to fully experience—I'm done doing them alone.
That's why Alishia and I built Black On Arrival. Because I needed this to exist for me, and I'm betting other women need it too.
Small groups. Ease-first itineraries. Cultural richness without the chaos. Space to be yourself without apology.
The group travel I wish I'd found five years ago.
Solo travel taught me I could do hard things. Now I'm choosing to do joyful things instead.
And if you're feeling this too—if you're tired of carrying everything alone but don't want typical group trip chaos—I see you.
You've done the hard part. You've proven you can.
Now you get to choose ease.
Randi Williams is the co-founder of Black On Arrival, a boutique travel company creating ease-first group experiences for Black women who are done traveling alone. After 20+ countries and four years living abroad, she's learned that the bravest thing you can do is stop proving yourself and start enjoying yourself.
Tired of solo travel but not sure group travel is for you? Join our waitlist for upcoming trips to Chicago and Mexico City.
