The moment the taxi drove away, my reality hit me like a tonne of bricks.
After just spending two weeks exploring London and Paris with my partner, he was heading back home to Australia for work and I was staring down the barrel of the next 11 weeks travelling alone.
I’d always dreamed of doing the proper backpacking adventure around Europe (original I know!) but my partner — who I’d been with for six years by this point — couldn’t get any more time off.
“You should still just go for it,” he encouraged.
So I bit the bullet and booked my dream holiday, but I was naïve to think I’d find that much time on my own easy.
Horoscopes at the airport. Post continues below.
I’m one of those girls who goes to the bathroom with a friend on a night out. I’ll play a podcast if I’m home alone so there are other voices around. And the thought of going to the movies solo makes me want to cry for reasons I can’t quite explain.
How the hell was I going to survive three months solo!?
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