New Zealand wasn’t just a destination, it was my beginning...!
I never imagined I’d travel alone. The idea of flying across the world, 19 hours by myself, felt too much. Honestly, I thought it wasn’t something I could ever do. I used to feel awkward even ordering food alone in a restaurant. So solo travel? That sounded impossible.
One day, my brother casually said, “Why don’t you visit New Zealand? Our cousin is there.” It sounded nice, but also scary. I didn’t know how to even begin. The thought stayed with me, though. I started looking up pictures of New Zealand, and I was mesmerised. Lakes, mountains, glowworm caves, black sand beaches. I couldn’t stop scrolling. And before I could talk myself out of it, I booked my ticket.
When I landed in Auckland, I was exhausted but relieved to see a familiar face. The first few days were comforting. Home-cooked food, short city walks, long naps. But once my cousin went back to work, it hit me. I was on my own, in a country I didn’t know, with no plan.
I had no idea where to start, so I just began with the basics. I walked around the city. I people-watched, sat at cafes, figured out the public transport. Then I tried taking a ferry to a nearby island. It felt like a big step. Slowly, I started stretching that comfort zone. I visited the Hobbiton movie set, something I’d always wanted to see. There, I met a few other travellers, many of them also travelling solo. That made something click. They didn’t just give me travel ideas, they sparked something in me. They inspired me.
One of my first real adventures was Rangitoto Island. It’s a volcanic island near Auckland with black rock trails and lava caves. I decided to go alone. I hiked up to the summit, and for the first time, I felt a deep sense of connection with the place. It was quiet, raw, and beautiful. That hike changed something in me. It felt like I had taken a real step into solo travel.
As I explored more, I started talking to more travellers. Some suggested I visit the South Island. The idea of flying again by myself felt like a huge leap. I was still figuring things out. But something in me said yes. So I booked the flight.
At first, I was planning to book hotel rooms because I didn’t know how hostels worked. The thought of sharing a room with strangers was intimidating. But my cousin encouraged me to try staying at backpacker hostels. I was unsure, but I gave it a shot.
It was one of the best choices I made.
At the hostel, I met people from all over the world. Some of them were solo travellers too. We cooked together, shared stories, made random plans. I learned more about travel just by listening. I got tips, learned bus routes, figured out what to do next. I found myself casually chatting with people from completely different cultures. It was eye-opening.
I started noticing my own behaviour. How I talked to strangers, how I carried myself, what I enjoyed. I had always been someone who felt most at ease in my own circle, but this trip showed me a different side of myself. I wasn’t just comfortable—I was thriving. I liked connecting with people. I liked the freedom of deciding what to do next, of saying yes to unplanned adventures.
One night, in Queenstown, I met a group of travellers who were also winging it with no plans. We ended up camping on a hill under the stars, no tents, just sleeping bags. The sky was unbelievably clear. We whispered stories, laughed, and watched the stars in silence. That night felt like magic. I didn’t feel like a tourist. I felt part of something.
Another time, in Glenorchy, I realised I had only booked a one-way bus ticket. I was stranded twenty kilometres outside town with no return plan. I started walking, hoping someone would give me a lift. Luckily, a friend I had met earlier joined me. We hitchhiked back, walking beside stunning mountains and crystal-clear lakes until some kind strangers from the UK picked us up. That moment reminded me how generous people can be.
Then there was Milford Sound. It poured the whole time, but the waterfalls looked even more alive. On the boat ride, I met people from so many countries. Russia, Germany, South Korea, the Philippines, Singapore, even India. We had different lives but somehow shared the same love for discovering the world. I felt inspired just listening to them.
Some days, I simply got on random buses, got off at some quiet town, explored for a few hours, and got back on the same bus later. I didn’t have a plan. I just followed what felt right. Waterfalls, hills, beaches, silent lakes. New Zealand kept surprising me.
I learned so much about myself during that trip. I was stronger, more curious, more independent than I had ever imagined. I stopped being scared of being alone. I started enjoying it.
Solo doesn’t mean lonely. It means giving yourself a chance to grow. It means making friends from everywhere, even if just for a day. It means listening to your own rhythm. Travelling solo taught me that. And once I experienced it, I couldn’t stop. Something in me had changed.
And that’s how someone who once felt nervous about eating alone in a restaurant ended up discovering the joy of her own company—and fell in love with who she was becoming!
