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EURO SOLA TRAVEL 2025

Updated: Jul 28

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I had always watched the men in my life travel fearlessly. Renovating their trucks to drive them across the US to surf along the coasts and play in the mountains. Spending winters surfing in South America and summers working 3 jobs to do it all over again. My brother went to Japan alone last summer just because he’d always wanted to go. 


I’ve always yearned for that kind of adventure. Since the first time I got up on an outside set wave and watched the green East Coast water move underneath me, gliding over sea weed and foam, I’ve felt a certain magnetism to the ocean. An intangible draw towards trying new things. 


At the same time I’ve always felt afraid. As strong and athletic as I am, at the end of the day I’m only 5’6,” a woman vulnerable because of her biological sex. Trapped by my physical body—afraid of being harassed, raped, murdered, taken advantage of. Trapped by my fear of the unknown. Weary of my ability to handle unforeseen circumstances. 


So instead of traveling after graduating school, I searched restlessly for a 9-5 job. I trained myself to relinquish my free spirit during the interview process, to lie and say "I’m not creative." To start really believing that I’m passionate about business. I got up at 5:45am every morning for a year, drank iced matcha lattes with my coworkers and the occasional Erewhon smoothie, negotiated business deals, only to lose my "why" and discover the obvious—I needed to set myself free. Search for that feeling I had the first time I caught that wave. 


Upon quitting my job it seemed natural that I needed to do something I’ve never done before. Something that I’ve always wanted to do. So I put my type A personality to work and started planning a trip. Bali, Brazil, Thailand, South America all seemed more appealing than Southern Europe, but if I was going to go alone, I had to be realistic. 


Where in the world can I go and feel safe without company? I thought to myself. 


Born and raised in NYC and having lived in LA for a few years on my own, I naturally gravitated towards western cities because they remained in my comfort zone. If I could live alone in LA, traverse NYC alone from age 11 onwards, I would be okay doing the same abroad. I would make friends in the hostels, I would meet my sister at some point, I could do it. 


LISBON


I started my trip in Lisbon. The taxi that took me from the airport to my hostel asked me if I was traveling alone and warned me about walking at night. “The square with the statues and the purple flowers is okay,” he said. “But, don’t walk past the park at night.” He pointed out the window to show me the small park surrounding a fountain along the way from Baixa to Intendente – Martim Moniz Square. He explained that a lot of men who come from the countryside to work in the city come there to sleep, so they don’t have to go back home – a byproduct of the lack of social support by the government (READ more about the housing crises HERE). 


It was frustrating to be reminded of the precautions women always take no matter where we go, but I was grateful for the advice, and for my ability to avoid putting myself at any risk. When I walked to dinner that night at a small local restaurant called Trinca, I ate my food quickly to make it back to the hostel before sundown. I felt grateful to have a bed to sleep in that night.


The hostel itself was decent. While the pictures online had alluded to a larger space in the dorms, I felt comfortable in the all female room I selected. There were a few older women travelers, but throughout the 4 days I was there, I met young women from all over the world doing the same thing as me. There was Ai Ling from London and Yu Zhen from Singapore. 


Yu Zhen and I continued to DM throughout the rest of our solo adventures. While she traveled to Lagos, Faro, Estonia, I made my way to Madrid and explored the French Riviera. We exchanged pictures and checked in on each other. 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - LISBON & CASCAIS 




MADRID


I was supposed to stay at another hostel in Madrid: The Loft House. But, after my stay in Lisbon I could feel my anxiety start to fester about staying in a 12 person mixed dormitory in the middle of the city. My clothes smelled from all of the day trips to Cascais and all of the walking uphill, so I went with my gut and splurged on a hotel. I was happy to be able to wash my clothes in the sink, and to take a long warm shower. But in Madrid I missed the company I had in Lisbon. There weren’t other young people to fill my days with inspiring conversations about politics. Critical discussions about the Trump presidency, the rise of nationalism globally. There was no one to exchange recommendations with about what to do and what to see while I was there. 


Walking around in Madrid I felt perfectly fine. Safer than I’ve ever felt in Los Angeles or New York. The streets were grand and pristine, and even the parks retained the same sterilization. But it made me wonder where all the people were. Was there a homeless population in Madrid? And where did they sleep? By what means does the government maintain such rigid control of the city? Was there a particular focus on environmental sustainability? Compared to Madrid, I thought to myself, Lisbon is a poor city. But I much preferred it—colorful, vivacious, unpredictable—even if I had to be a bit more cautious. 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - MADRID



The SOUTH of FRANCE


My stay in Nice, France was one of the highlights of my trip. When I arrived at La Maïoun Guesthouse, I felt like I was coming home. The family run hostel just minutes from the beach was tucked away behind a garden in an old building with a spiral staircase. I couldn’t believe the light and the high ceilings in my mixed dorm. 


I flipped through the book of guest recommended restaurants and activities that had been compiled over the years and then made my way to a bakery for some lunch. Then to the beach for the rest of the afternoon. I figured it was France, and this was my opportunity to go topless, so I laid my bikini top next to me on the grey stones and tried something new. It was freeing not to be constrained by the same cultural norms that we have in the US. But, when a strange man approached me, and I didn’t have the chance to cover myself, I felt exposed, vulnerable. I indulged him as he asked me for my Instagram and begged me to go out with him that night. I put my knees into my chest, waiting for him to go away. He shoved his face up close to mine and kissed me on the cheek. 


When I finally let him find my account and follow me, he left. The people next to me asked if I was okay. 


I jumped in the water to wash him off of me and made my way to the hostel for the night. 


I woke up to a complimentary homemade breakfast plate with fruit and pastries and yogurt. On the terrace over chocolate croissants the first morning, I got to know a young woman from Paris who became a close friend of mine during my stay. She loved La Maïoun so much that this was her second time staying in the hostel alone for a short vacation. She agreed when I said that they “treated us like we were a part of their family here.” As I adventured around the French Riviera with my new friends to Monaco, Èze, Cap-Ferrat, Villefranche and Antibes, I always looked forward to going back home to rest. 


I was happy to be surrounded by other people as we took day trips along the coast. Without my Parisian tour guide, I would have struggled to commute with such ease. While I speak good Spanish, French has always eluded me. It was a relief to have someone else lead the way. 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - The SOUTH of FRANCE


ROME


When I first landed in Rome the heat billowed off the concrete. While making my travel arrangements, an old friend of mine had warned me about Rome being “sketchy,” so I didn’t even consider booking a hostel there. But, after connecting with a few experienced travelers at La Maïoun and trading stories, it seems like I would have been totally okay to do so—as long as the hostel has AC. 


If you are visiting Rome in the summer, you should know that the heat is something to be taken seriously. During my tour of the Colosseum, in line for the bathroom inside the museum, there was another woman traveling alone. She fell to the linoleum floor out of exhaustion. She was extremely dehydrated and on top of that, having a panic attack about the dehydration. We crowded around her and offered her drinks from the vending machine, packs of cookies to get some sugar in her. Someone told her to put her legs up the wall and lay her head back, and eventually she started to breathe deeply again.


The day prior I had a similar moment of intense fear when I exited the Vatican museum after my tour and realized I had run out of water. The sun scorched the limestone underneath me and made my cheeks flush. I searched for a small market along the streets, but I struggled to find something, and I knew I was running out of time before I felt faint. I wandered into Scalia The Original Street Food— a pizza place I had pinned on my map. Thankfully they had a refrigerator case. I ate some pizza and bought a few bottles of cool water and chatted with a Chilean family in half Spanish and half English. They offered me some of their tiramisu, and I re-gained the strength to traverse the Tiber back to my art hotel on Via Corso. Escape the sun for the hottest part of the day. 


The privilege I had to retreat to my hotel was at the forefront of my mind every time I felt the wrath of the afternoon sun. But while I could stay prepared with extra water, and keep sunscreen, Coca Cola and stone fruit in my bag to keep me up and running, I couldn’t seem to shake the relentless stir of the Italian men. 


I was careful to eat dinner at the most established restaurants – Hostaria de Pietro and Tempo Perso. Still, eating alone I was being ogled at by the waiters. “Is everything okay?” My waiter at Tempo Perso returned to my table excessively. Was he trying to manipulate me into asking for his help? 


"Do you need anything?" He came back again. 


Another young woman, Charlotte, sat down next to me about halfway through my meal. She is from the UK, was also traveling alone. She says she’s going to a Pasta Making Class tomorrow. 


When I ask her where she’s staying she says, her hostel is “fine.” “But, really hot,” she emphasizes.


"I don’t know if I would recommend it."


I’m sad I can’t join her at the cooking class. I’m leaving via train the next day.


When I finally manage to pay my bill, I start walking and realize I have to use the bathroom. When I pop back into the restaurant, the same waiter asks me “if I’ve forgotten something.” I assume he doesn’t suspect I’ve left my bag. He’s certainly walked past the table enough times to know I don’t have much with me. He’s clearly talking about himself. 


Again, at Trevi fountain I am interrogated by two men sitting at a nearby café. “You look really happy,” one says. “You are so perfect,” the other one says. “Very beautiful,” they both chime in. The first one starts to explain that his friend is looking for a wife, that he would love to take me around the city, show me around. Apparently just smiling is an invitation for a marriage proposal. I lie when they ask if I am traveling alone. I lie about where I’m staying. 


Still I love Rome for its history. It's yummy pasta and pizza. I’m not ready to leave.


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - ROME


BARI


When I arrive in Bari around 10pm, I take a taxi from the train station to the town center because I’m too tired to carry my things, and I’m too unfamiliar with the city to walk alone at night. I wouldn’t know what to expect. I go to use the restroom at a restaurant with both of my backpacks still strapped on, and the owner starts yelling at me—accusing me of not being a customer. 


“I’m going to sit and eat,” I explain. “I just don’t want my things to be stolen.” 

When I finish my food I walk 10 minutes in the dark back to the small apartment complex I’m staying in - Giardiano dei Lenti. The host has sent me Whatsapp instructions for how to enter the property. I punch in a code to make it through the first door. I punch in another code to open the lock box for my place and grab my keys. I enter two more gates that lead to an outdoor courtyard. The gates are left unlocked, and I feel nervous as to why. I try not to think too much about it. I try not to think about why there have been 4 locked doors so far, and still too many to go. 


The instructions say to open the door to my apartment with the smallest key on the ring. I try a few times, and still I can’t open it. There is nothing I can do to get the door to budge, and I start to go to dark places in my head. Am I being scammed? Is there someone else in the apartment I have reserved? What if the host isn’t who they say they are? What if I have to sleep outside tonight? I hold my face in my hands, and I start to cry. 


I try the other key on the ring, and the lock finally moves, and then I switch keys to open the last door. The host made a mistake in her instructions. I fall onto the bed in relief. I can’t get the AC to work, but I’m just grateful to have a safe place to sleep that night. 


PUGLIA


I met a love interest at Polignano e Mare and the only reason I gave way to the interaction was because he was there with his parents. This was an indication to me that he was not going to put me in danger or violate my boundaries. Reflecting on the interaction, it is frustrating to consider how men never have to think about such things. It’s one of those unfortunate double standards that exists cross-culturally, that I fear may never go away. 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - BARI & PUGLIA



ATHENS 


I befriended 2 young women on the overnight ferry from Bari, Italy to Patras, Greece. They were split up into two separate rooms during the ride – one room being the one assigned to me. We swapped so they could sleep together, and I got lucky with a room all to myself. We all shared a taxi from the ferry port to the bus stop together and rode the bus to Athens that morning. 


I walk around various markets in the heat before my sister arrives. The city is congested and hot. It smells like Brooklyn in the summertime. I hug my sister tightly when we meet at Taverna Platanos for lunch in Monastiraki. 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - ATHENS



PAROS


In a line, my sister and I walked to dinner at Naoussa Port the first few nights in Paros. The desolate road weaved as the sun started to set. We watched the sun fade and the sky turn various shades of pink and purple. Stopping to look, and squeezing towards buildings, trying not to trip on cobblestones as cars whizzed by on the unmarked street. The walk back from dinner was usually even more precarious. There was no street light like everywhere else I’d been all trip. Just cats and motorcycles. I was glad I wasn’t in Paros alone. 


My sister sprained her ankle the last day on the limestone steps leading up to our hotel. When she limped into our room and explained that she fell, I was afraid that it was broken. What were we going to do? Go to a hospital? An urgent care? How were we going to get there? 


I asked her to flex her foot, wiggle her toes, and try to walk on it. She could barely do the latter, but we figured we could wait another day to truly see how bad it was. 


I knew we needed to ice it, to at least mitigate the situation for the time being. When I went to the gas station near our hotel, they didn’t have any, and the hotel didn’t have much infrastructure, let alone an ice machine or a freezer. I wandered into a coffee place that by some miracle was still open at 8pm and asked if they had any ice left. I begged them to buy a bag off them, and they gave me one for 5 Euro. We kept it in the sink in our room. With a little Advil, she was better. We took a taxi to dinner for an abhorrent amount of money and picked up a bandage.


Throughout the trip, I’d noticed that minor health ailments would come up, and due to the financial means, or even just luck, I was usually able to avoid any harm in the situation. But it did make me nervous as to what I would do if the worst thing did happen. What would we do if she broke her ankle? Would we complete the rest of the trip or go home? What would she do if she was alone? 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - PAROS


MILOS


In Milos I got sick myself. The morning after a full day cruise with Odysseus Tours and the badass female lead crew member – Fay (shout out), I woke up with a yeast infection. In Milos, we were unable to get anywhere by foot, and having decided not to rent a car, we had been taking taxis everywhere, and being hustled every time. Told they don’t take credit cards, and up-charged. We had figured out that in order for this not to happen, we needed to have the hotel staff call for the taxi. 

When they asked me where I needed to go, I found myself in an uncomfortable conversation as to why I needed to go to a pharmacy so urgently, what kind of infection I had, and where it was. I was happy I was speaking to another woman, but I was confused as to why she kept prying. I didn’t want to get into all of the details and couldn’t she understand? 


This felt all too familiar, especially when it comes to receiving healthcare as a woman. On the one hand I have this desire to keep what’s going on with my body private, and on the other hand I need help, so I need to rely on the people around me–doctor’s, family members, pharmacy staff, to provide that help. 


When the staff member finally understood what I meant, they became very nervous. I may not be able to get any medicine at the pharmacy, they explained. They wanted me to go to urgent care.


I took the risk, and thankfully had something over the counter at the pharmacy. 


When we got back, she asked me if I was “better.” I had to explain to her, again, that no, I was not better because that’s not the nature of the infection. Again, forced to step outside of my comfort zone and discuss a medical issue with a stranger. At least she is another woman. 


WHERE TO EAT & WHERE TO GO - MILOS 


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FINAL REFLECTIONS


Having completed this trip, I proved to myself that I can be alone for weeks at a time—that I can rise to the occasion in challenging situations. Even in moments where I felt unsafe, I was able to think strategically about what my next step could be. It was empowering to make choices throughout my days that supported what I wanted to do and simultaneously kept me safe. For instance, while I went on different adventures every single day, I didn’t go out at night alone to bars or clubs. In fact, I only went out for drinks one time when I was with a group of young people from my hostel in Nice.


Functionally, Europe operates in a similar way to the US, and there are similar societal conventions and infrastructure. Walking around, buying groceries, going to restaurants, riding the trains and bus, were all very similar experiences to doing so in cities like LA. For the most part, there are a lot of other young people solo traveling throughout Europe in the summer, so there were usually people to connect with throughout my days. That said, Paros and Milos were more barren infrastructure wise, and I was so glad to be there with my sister to accompany me. I wouldn’t have felt safe being there without her. 


While I booked hotels last minute in Madrid and Rome because I felt scared to be in those places in hostels, upon reflection I think staying in the right hostel or apartment would have been totally fine. At the bottom of the piece I’ve gone ahead and included alternative accommodation recommendations from the friends I met during my travels. And, in some sense, being around other travelers in hostels made me feel more safe than the physical spaces of nicer accommodations–because I was equipped with community and shared connection.


On a personal level, I often rely on my family and close friends for support. Without them there for the first few weeks of my trip, I was forced to do a lot of emotional processing alone in my journal and on the move, which was conducive to reflection and personal growth. I had to self soothe when I felt nervous, afraid, sad, lonely. For me, self empowerment predominantly came from proving to myself that I could manage my emotions on my own. I also learned that as humans, as important as it is to be self-sufficient, there is no shame in relying on your community to support you. Throughout my trip I was diligent about calling my mom and close friends at home, and connecting with fellow travelers. Because I was alone, I was put in a position where I connected with other people out of necessity. These new relationships allowed me to find a community where I never would have before, and made the trip invaluable. 

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION


BUDGET: ~ $5k  + ~ $500 - $1k spending money

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WHAT TO PACK: 


  • Bags 

  • Clothing 

    • 1 sweatshirt 

    • 2 longsleeves 

    • 1 rainjacket 

    • 5 pairs of shorts 

      • 2 linen (1 white, 1 black) 

      • 1 pair of jean shorts 

      • 2 pairs of athletic shorts 

    • 3 white Hanes tanktops 

    • 2 white t-shirts 

    • 3 sundresses (1 long, 2 short)

    • 2 long skirts 

    • 3 nice blouses 

    • 15 pairs of underwear 

    • 4 bras: 2 regular, 2 soft, 1 sports bra 

    • 2 pairs of athletic shorts

    • 1 bandana 

  • Shoes

  • Toiletries put in plastic bags for European airline security

    • Shampoo 

    • Conditioner 

    • Bodywash 

    • Sunscreen 

    • Moisturizer 

    • Aquaphor 

    • Face sunscreen 

    • Regular sunscreen 

    • Nail clippers

    • Nail file 

    • Hairbrush 

    • Leave in conditioner 

    • Hair oil 

  • Medicine put in plastic bags for European airline security

    • GasX 

    • Ducolax chewies 

    • Tums 

    • Advil 

    • Tylenol extra strength 


Miscellaneous Items

  • Wallet - with 2 credit cards, Debit Card, $200 US dollars in cash, Driver’s License 

  • Passport & Small Passport holder pouch  

  • 2 pairs of sunglasses & eyeglasses 

  • 2 Journals - I really like THESE from Denik

  • Kindle (really helped reduce weight of my bag)

  • Colored pencils and extra pens 

  • Sand Cloud Towel (doubles as a blanket)

  • Airplane pillow 

  • Hat 

  • 2 carabiners

  • Water bottle 


TICKETS

Flights

  • Norse Airlines 

    • JFK → London, Gatwick 

    • Athens → JFK

  • Easyjet flying Easy Jet is faster and cheaper than taking the train

    • London → Lisbon

    • Lisbon → Madrid

    • Nice → Rome

  • Iberia 

    • Madrid → Nice  


Innercity & Regional Trains / Busses


Ferries (booked via FerryHopper App)

DO NOT take the high speed inter-island ferry if you get sea sick. Opt for the regular

Taxis 

  • In most cases, there will be local taxis available outside of airports/ bus stops/ train stops/ ports 

  • Try to opt for Bolt where it is available (European rideshare app)

    it’s usually significantly cheaper


Day Trips - Via Local Trains and/or Busses 

  • Lisbon → Cascais 

  • Nice → Monaco, Antibes, Eze, Ville Franche, Cap - Farrat 

  • Bari, Italy → Puglia and/or Monopoli


ACCOMODATIONS - all found through Booking.com and/or Amex Travel


Alternative if you don’t want to splurge: Check out Booking.com’s list 


Maija Ariele Fiedelholtz is an MFA candidate at Columbia University’s creative writing program. After completing her BA at UCLA in history and professional writing, she worked at The Gersh Agency for a year in the Digital Department; she has now made her way back from LA to NYC to explore her passion for storytelling. If she’s not writing in her journal or drafting the next piece for her personal Substack, she’s probably out surfing or sipping an iced latte from a trendy café and exploring the city.


Check out Maija WIG Stories and Interviews


Talkaboutit xCrushing Interviews with Beth O'Rourke, Violet Reed & MissFits



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