I’m Married and Still Choose to Solo Travel

Taking four international solo trips as a newlywed improved my relationship with myself and my husband.

I didn’t realize it might be weird to travel solo to another country when married until I’d planned a trip to Guatemala in early 2022 and started telling people about it.

“You’re going alone?” they would ask, “Your husband isn’t coming with you?” It was as if they saw this as a breakup announcement when, in my mind, it was a sign of a healthy marriage. My husband’s work schedule meant he couldn’t join. I shrugged off the questions and took the trip. And I liked it.

Even though I was only in my second year of marriage, I decided to not only take that solo Guatemala trip–but three more solo trips abroad. Traveling alone not only allowed me to reconnect with an important part of myself, but it also strengthened my marriage.

Becoming a Solo Traveler

I took my first solo international trip at 16 when I studied abroad in Italy, and I remember so vividly the sense of freedom that accompanied my sadness once I’d waved my last goodbyes from the security line and had taken my first steps into the terminal. Once I graduated from high school, I began working in restaurants, a lifestyle that enabled me to travel during my time off. Although I roll my eyes at the idea of traveling solo to “find yourself”—in my opinion, a cliché that puts too much pressure on travel and skips over all the emotional work that actually goes into finding yourself—I certainly found out about myself while traveling alone.

In Naples, Italy, where I volunteered in an afterschool program in a tough neighborhood of the city, I learned that I enjoy chaos. There, I also developed skills like making friends with strangers and escaping from creepy, persistent men on Vespas by running down steps just like they did in the spy movies. During the week I spent in Berlin with an Italian man I’d met during a flight years earlier, I realized that clubbing was mostly overrated. At a Buddhist retreat in a remote coastal Irish town, I plumbed the depths of my mind and began to feel comfortable spending time in my own silence.

On the Camino de Santiago, trekking upwards of 10 miles each day through the Spanish countryside, I learned I had a terrible sense of direction. By the time I headed to Siem Reap, Cambodia, at the age of 20 to bartend in a hostel in exchange for room and board, I was a seasoned solo traveler. Of course, it was then that I met my future husband, the German hostel owner, and fell so deeply in love with Cambodia that I stayed there for nearly two years before moving back to the U.S.

Planning My First Post-Marriage Solo Trip

By the end of 2021, I was headed to a self-made writing retreat on Lake Atitlan, where I’d get to escape the cold and get all the space and inspiration I needed to make progress on some of the personal writing projects I’d let slip since I started writing full-time.

Right up until the moment my husband dropped me off at the airport, I felt like I was preparing for any other solo trip. Then, when it came time for me to catch my flight, he touched my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about me. I want you to have the best time, you deserve it.” And I started to cry.

Sure, as a grown, independent woman living in America in the 21st century, it’s not like I needed his permission to go, but the fact that my husband celebrated my decision to take this time for myself was still touching. Throughout the flight and upon my arrival in Guatemala City, I felt like I was missing a part of myself. My only distraction from the weird sensation of being alone while newly married was that familiar flash of excitement when I took my first steps in a country I’d never visited before and twisted my tongue into a foreign language to get myself a ride to Antigua.

As we drove away from the airport in a bright morning sun, through a city traffic jam, then over the hills and past small, colorful villages, I looked out the window in awe. That awe continued when I reached the cobblestone streets of Antigua and checked into my hotel room, from which I had a clear view of two massive volcanoes. But that night, after getting terribly lost while wandering around the city, I felt something new to me as a solo traveler: loneliness.

Now that I was tired and hungry and the thrill of being in a new place had worn off, all I wanted was to have my husband’s arms around me—and let him take care of figuring out dinner. Instead, I ordered food to be delivered to my hotel and ate at my desk in silence. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I felt embarrassed. Wow, Zan, I thought, remember the days when you’d stay in hostels and make a close-knit group of friends by the end of the night? Now you won’t even leave your hotel room to get dinner?

Adjusting to Being Alone Far from Home

As I settled into life in Guatemala, I was surprised by how much the lack of my husband’s presence haunted me. When I walked by some particularly interesting scene or looked out over the placid morning waters of Lake Atitlan, I felt the urge to share what I was seeing with him. I also admittedly missed the things he would do for me—make me my coffee in the morning, or ensure we were going the right way, or hold the particularly heavy shopping bags—and at the same time, I felt acutely aware that I might be in danger as a solo female traveler. The friends I made in the small town of San Marcos La Laguna insisted on sending me home in a tuk-tuk if I stayed out after dark, and I missed the extra layer of security walking next to my husband brought me.

But then there were the beautiful moments—the quiet of a morning by the lake paired with a cup of chocolatey coffee, glorious swims between writing sessions, picking up handmade tortillas from a stand in town, the freedom to follow my every whim… As the days passed, I became more attuned to what I was thinking and feeling again. In general, I lead an independent life within my marriage, but my husband’s wants and needs and moods and tastes still influence much of what we do together and the decisions we make, as is natural in any equal partnership. Traveling solo when married allowed me to reconnect with my own needs and wants in a way I hadn’t in years.

The Value of Alone Time in a Romantic Relationship

It’s no secret that alone time is healthy in any relationship—psychologists call this the key to “self-intimacy,” or the awareness and acceptance of your own feelings that, in turn, help you feel fulfilled in your relationships. I relished this feeling of self-intimacy when I returned from my solo trip, plus I found that I appreciated my husband more than ever. I no longer took all the little things he did for me or our home for granted, and knowing how supportive he’d been of my decision to travel alone made me feel more secure in the relationship. The fact that we’d missed each other so deeply during our time apart was also a nice reminder to stay present when we were back to spending most of our time together.

By the time I took my next solo journey—a couple of days in Vancouver before joining my godmother on a cruise—I was ready to make the most of it. A few months later, I headed to a ceremony in London for a travel writing award and then to Vienna to visit some old friends. With each trip, I fell more easily into my own company and my own rhythms, just like I had as a teen. In the year since, my husband and I have traveled both together and separately, and I’m looking forward to an upcoming solo work trip to South America. Marriage has changed my life in so many ways, but it hasn’t—and won’t—change my identity or take away all I’ve learned from traveling alone.