Our standout poll last week was about solo travel. More than 600 readers weighed in, and we received 173 comments offering travel advice to those who’ve never tried. Just over half of respondents (55 percent) say they feel very comfortable traveling alone. You can read some of the highlights here.
I started traveling solo abroad in 2021. My first trip was to Paris. I chose the City of Lights because I can stumble through French comme un enfant.
While there, I did. Despite being told that locals would scoff at my effort, I found them to be receptive and encouraging. One morning, I even held up a coffee line, the woman behind the counter smiling and nodding as I searched my brain for the word for sugar. (It is sucre. I needed the coffee.)
Reading the responses to the poll reminded me of that moment and so many others I’ve experienced while traveling—the hesitation, the humanity, the waiting. In fact, of all the responses to the poll, the ones that resonated with me most spoke of waiting specifically:
“Life is too short to wait on folks to do things with you. Take the trip solo. Get to know yourself.”
I don’t usually give a second thought to doing things solo, but when it came to traveling abroad, I waited for years. I was intimidated—the navigation, the sucre. But more importantly, I had a vision. In the same way that some people picture their wedding day, I had this glamorous and romanticized plan for how my big, adventurous travels would pan out. The plan always included other people.
So, I waited. And the longer I waited, the more restless I became. It was like there was a tiny Beth tapping her foot in the back corner of my brain—checking the time on her phone, sighing, crossing her arms, then tapping again. It was agitating and baffling. I remember wondering, Why don’t other people seem as restless as I am?
Eventually I realized: many people weren’t waiting. They were doing… something. Their thing. Those actions were a release valve—the reason their brains didn’t feel like the tap routine from A Chorus Line. Even tiny, imperfect steps forward give energy somewhere to go, give our creativity something to swirl in, become handholds or beacons or sparks.
I’m not just talking about solo travel. Waiting can stall careers, relationships, whole chapters of life. Think about a career plateau, when you feel comfortable, yet unfulfilled and bored. It’s fine, but it needles at you. Left alone, that discomfort only grows, whispering, something is better than nothing, just go. Discomfort, boredom, restlessness—they’re signals urging us to seek more.
I’m not telling you to quit your job, but I do think that if you’re waiting for something to change, it’s time to take a baby step, even if the future isn’t clear yet:
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Learn a new skill, take a class, or complete an online course. I’ve attended free conferences in my city to stretch my skillset, and we’ve published a list of free and cheap ways to upskill.
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Shadow a coworker. My ideas are 10 times stronger when I talk to people who think differently and do different kinds of work.
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Update your LinkedIn more than once a year. I try to post or interact at least once a week—I don’t love being on there, but it’s happening.
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Ask your boss for a stretch project. This newsletter started as a fun brainstorm, but it continued because I wanted to see what I could learn from it.
Become a tourist for your own career. Give your restlessness somewhere to go.
That can be your Paris—though you should still go if you haven’t been.
When I visited, solo and a little nervous, I thought a lot about the years I’d spent waiting and the plans I'd had. I asked myself how I could make the trip feel like my best day over and over again (highly recommended doing this when soul searching, 10/10).
I booked an Airbnb in Montmartre. I cooked breakfast every morning and fell asleep watching French Netflix every night. I read for hours in Jardin des Tuileries. I heard a really weird orchestral arrangement of “Human” by The Killers outside Notre Dame. I got lost in the Louvre trying to get photos of all of the dogs in the paintings. I took a train to Versailles and watched a black fox slip into the queen’s garden, which was closed to visitors—a sly reminder that life sneaks in, whether invited or not.
All that because I stopped waiting. I never, ever could have envisioned such a meaningful trip.
