In the summer of 2018 I was living in fear. Triggers, both large and small, aroused such anxiety and panic that I became determined to take action. My only recourse was to do something so outside my comfort zone that if accomplished, I would potentially overcome my fears or die trying. A strong dose of bravery and courage was in order so I decided to take a "solo trip" that would entail next level independence. So, I dug deep and traveled to Europe for 16 days. ALONE. This would be my first time to travel unaccompanied and I would be lying to you if I said there weren't moments during the process that gave me pause. I was a novice at planning my own trips and quite frankly convinced (by fear) that I'd screw it up; that I would land in the wrong city, or choose a hotel not centrally located to what I wanted to see, or that I'd somehow end up in a bind. The variety of "what if" scenarios whirled through my head like a tornado. And I had the added bug of a Latin family in my ears panicking over every possible safety snafu. "You're so petite Emily; you could get kidnapped, or mugged or attacked," etc. There I was confronted with the first hurdle in finding the strength to overcome. I wasn't foolish though. I recognized that my family's concerns, coupled with my own, were valid, they too however were based in fear and in "playing it safe." I needed a sanctification from this hold; a cleansing to be replaced with confidence and faith in myself and my capability to do "this thing," and despite every plea from family to stay, my gut told me I had to do this and so I did.
This trip was my Everest.
After getting over all THAT (though the voices in my mind wavered), I straightened up and selected three countries to visit. Within an hour I had booked the entire trip from flights in and out of different countries to hotels, Eurorail transports and even boats for my last country's island hopping. And because I know myself too well, I booked it all as nonrefundable. Now I was committed. And just like that I was three weeks away from an experience I knew I would never forget. I'm pretty sure I closed my laptop that night and thought, "OMG, what am I about to do?"
The next day I purchased a travel guide for each country, surfed Trip Advisor and read blogs about lesser known tourist attractions. I also began wrestling daily with my anxiety and focused on strengthening my resolve little by little until the morning of my departure. I had no idea what to expect.
Fast forward to day one solo trip 2018. My first stop: the Czech Republic. Prague was a city I'd longed to visit since I was a little girl. My parents had vacationed there for an anniversary trip and I remember their photos looking like post cards. I had grown up envisioning this European city with it's iconic cobblestone roads, narrow streets and earthy tones as a "must see." It was everything I expected, full of history and discovery. After arriving early in the morning, checking in to my artsy boutique hotel and setting my bags down, I wasted zero time and hit the ground running. After five days of non-stop site-seeing, hiking up massive hills to see the city from an aerial vantage point, visiting every cathedral, people-watching at plazas and enjoying a cold glass of their world-famous lager, I was wrecked. Those "idyllic cobblestone roads" were hard on the body. Each night as I climbed into bed, I felt every muscle and ache - a direct result of refusing to take even a moment's rest in hopes of soaking up the city and seeing absolutely everything I could. I visited the Jewish Ghetto and wept; I crossed the Charles Bridge multiple times and heard an electronic violinist play one of my favorite Abba songs; I watched the changing of the guard at Prague Castle; I gazed at the Astronomical Clock in Old Town Prague; I finally made it to Petrin Tower at the top the tallest hill in scorching heat; I spent hours searching for the famed Lennon graffiti wall; I went to the Kafka Museum; the Basilica of St. Peter, toured the Schwarzenberg Palace, St. Nicholas Church and so much, so much more. I even randomly bumped into a friend from law school and caught up over oysters and Veuve Cliquot. I soaked in the hotel jacuzzi to combat the effects of the average thirteen miles walked each day and I sat at in Wenceslas Square watching the sunset and journaling the days. It was amazing and unforgettable and everything I thought Prague would be, but it was now time to move on.
Tomorrow, Austria.
This trip was my Everest.
After getting over all THAT (though the voices in my mind wavered), I straightened up and selected three countries to visit. Within an hour I had booked the entire trip from flights in and out of different countries to hotels, Eurorail transports and even boats for my last country's island hopping. And because I know myself too well, I booked it all as nonrefundable. Now I was committed. And just like that I was three weeks away from an experience I knew I would never forget. I'm pretty sure I closed my laptop that night and thought, "OMG, what am I about to do?"
The next day I purchased a travel guide for each country, surfed Trip Advisor and read blogs about lesser known tourist attractions. I also began wrestling daily with my anxiety and focused on strengthening my resolve little by little until the morning of my departure. I had no idea what to expect.
Fast forward to day one solo trip 2018. My first stop: the Czech Republic. Prague was a city I'd longed to visit since I was a little girl. My parents had vacationed there for an anniversary trip and I remember their photos looking like post cards. I had grown up envisioning this European city with it's iconic cobblestone roads, narrow streets and earthy tones as a "must see." It was everything I expected, full of history and discovery. After arriving early in the morning, checking in to my artsy boutique hotel and setting my bags down, I wasted zero time and hit the ground running. After five days of non-stop site-seeing, hiking up massive hills to see the city from an aerial vantage point, visiting every cathedral, people-watching at plazas and enjoying a cold glass of their world-famous lager, I was wrecked. Those "idyllic cobblestone roads" were hard on the body. Each night as I climbed into bed, I felt every muscle and ache - a direct result of refusing to take even a moment's rest in hopes of soaking up the city and seeing absolutely everything I could. I visited the Jewish Ghetto and wept; I crossed the Charles Bridge multiple times and heard an electronic violinist play one of my favorite Abba songs; I watched the changing of the guard at Prague Castle; I gazed at the Astronomical Clock in Old Town Prague; I finally made it to Petrin Tower at the top the tallest hill in scorching heat; I spent hours searching for the famed Lennon graffiti wall; I went to the Kafka Museum; the Basilica of St. Peter, toured the Schwarzenberg Palace, St. Nicholas Church and so much, so much more. I even randomly bumped into a friend from law school and caught up over oysters and Veuve Cliquot. I soaked in the hotel jacuzzi to combat the effects of the average thirteen miles walked each day and I sat at in Wenceslas Square watching the sunset and journaling the days. It was amazing and unforgettable and everything I thought Prague would be, but it was now time to move on.
Tomorrow, Austria.
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