Solo Backpacking: The Fleeting Feeling of Possibility
During the month of June, I decided to backpack Europe with nothing more than a 40L Patagonia duffel and a 20L backpack strapped to my shoulders. It was one of the most exhilarating feelings of possibility I have ever experienced; one that has continued to linger long after I returned home. There was something freeing about realizing just how little I actually needed to carry with me, both physically and mentally.
Back in December, my boyfriend and I were up late talking about travel. For years, I had dreamed of backpacking Europe. I had looked into studying abroad, mapped out routes I never took, and always found myself waiting until I felt "ready." Life, timing, and my own fears seemed to get in the way every time. That night, though, he looked at me and simply said, "Book the tickets."
While he was booking flights for his own study abroad semester, I was mapping out my own backpacking route. The entire time, he was cheering me on, and for the first time, everything felt right. As if every plan that had fallen through was simply making room for this one. By 3 a.m., every ticket had been booked, and the adventure I'd been imagining for years was finally real.
I started in Portugal, which was the best way to begin my trip. It was also my only solo destination, and I genuinely couldn't have picked a better place. If you're thinking about taking your first solo trip, Portugal is the place I'd recommend every single time.
I started in Lisbon and stayed in a hostel. During my stay, I met so many incredible girls - one of whom I ended up meeting again a couple more times throughout my trip. The hostel was run by the sweetest grandma named Isabel, who cooked a homemade dinner every night that guests could sign up for. We shared hearty meals, long conversations, and so many laughs around the table. It was one of those places that instantly made a new city feel like home.
One of my favorite days was when I spontaneously decided to do a cliffside hike. But honestly, the highlight wasn't even the hike itself. The Bolt ride there was about 30 minutes, and I ended up having the loveliest conversation with my driver, who had moved to Portugal from Nepal. We talked about his family, what life in Portugal had been like, and both the hardships and rewards of immigrating somewhere new. Those are the kinds of conversations that stay with you long after the trip ends.
From Lisbon, I made my way to Porto, where I drank plenty of port wine, ate incredible seafood, and spent afternoons sitting by the river listening to locals play music. And, of course, I ate an embarrassing number of pastéis de nata. My favorite memory, though, was meeting up with one of the girls I'd met in Lisbon. After dinner, still a little tipsy from the port wine, we wandered over for a couple of pastéis de nata before saying goodbye. It was the loveliest way to end my solo week and the sweetest beginning to everything that came next.
From there, I met up with my boyfriend, and we headed to the Dolomites. It was such a contrast to my solo week in Portugal in the best way. We spent our days driving winding mountain roads, pulling over at every lookout that caught our eye, and chasing sunsets through one of the most beautiful mountain ranges I've ever seen. Almost every evening turned into us spontaneously deciding to drive somewhere new just to catch the alpenglow as it lit up the peaks. Somewhere in between all of that, we played an embarrassing amount of Uno.
One of the biggest highlights was this little farm to table restaurant (my favorite kind of restaurant) we spotted on our way down from Rifugio Auronzo. I was honestly drawn to it because it overlooked this massive field filled with cows, and it just felt like one of those places you can't pass up. We ended up having the most incredible handmade pasta alongside grass fed beef raised right there on the farm. It was simple, hearty, and one of those meals that somehow becomes just as memorable as the mountains themselves.
I spent the next week bouncing between France and Switzerland.
In France (I somehow always end up here - I think I'm just intuitively drawn to this country), I met up with my friend Noor in Aix-en-Provence. The heat wave was definitely an adjustment after the crisp mountain air in the Dolomites, but I loved being immersed in such a charming little town. We spent our days wandering in and out of unique boutiques, popping into local produce shops, and eating the most incredible nectarines. Seriously... nothing back home compares. I think we bought nectarines almost every single day while we were out exploring. And then during the afternoons we doozed off and took naps to then rally again at night around town.
Then came Switzerland, where I celebrated my birthday (I partied hard). My boyfriend and I completely fell in love with this little area called Cully, right on Lake Geneva. Vineyards lined the hills behind us, tiny intimate restaurants overlooked the water, and jazz bars and little art studios were braided throughout the cobblestone streets. There was something so special about Cully. We ended one evening with a sunset dip in Lake Geneva, and it felt like we had stumbled upon a place that most people drive right past. A secret hidden gem that we chatted a lot about afterwards.
Lastly, Mallorca. It was the perfect way to end my month of backpacking. We spent our days hopping from cala to cala, baking in the hot Spanish sun, and jumping into the clearest blue water. It was slow, simple, and exactly what I needed after a month of constantly moving.
One of my favorite days was this little boat excursion I had booked. We anchored in a tiny cove that we almost had completely to ourselves, and I don't think I stopped jumping into the turquoise water once. I genuinely felt like a little kid again, climbing back onto the boat just to jump right back in.
We also celebrated my boyfriend's birthday at this amazing restaurant overlooking the water. There was jazz playing, the sun was beginning to set, and we ordered duck confit rice (our first time trying it... we still talk about it). We were completely blown away.
There's just something about sand between your toes, salt in your hair, and spending all day by the sea that replenishes the soul.
Oh! And remember the girl I met in Portugal? We somehow ended up meeting again in Mallorca. We grabbed drinks with her and her friend and spent hours chatting about travel, the places we'd been, and all of the little differences (and similarities) between where we each came from. It felt so full circle. I ended my trip the exact same way I had started it: sitting around a table with people who had been complete strangers just weeks before, sharing stories, laughing, and leaving with that same feeling I had in Portugal. I honestly couldn't have imagined a better way to end the month.
I left with a 40L Patagonia duffel and a 20L backpack, but somehow came home with so much more; conversations with strangers, meals I'll think about forever, friendships I never expected, and memories that I know I'll be talking about years from now.
There's something so freeing about carrying everything you own on your back for a month. It makes you realize how much of life isn't about the things you pack, but the people you meet and the moments you stumble into (usually the ones you never planned for). I think that's the feeling I've been trying to hold onto ever since I got home.
All my love,
Brejette Nepa