As a woman travelling alone to the other side of the world, you can never fully quiet the initial doubt – even when heading to a place as notoriously safe as New Zealand. You could say it’s overthinking that causes the anxiety we feel when stepping off a long-haul flight into a foreign country, but how do you explain feeling anxious even when you’ve wanted this journey your entire life?
Maybe it’s the sheer distance, or the lingering worry in my parents’ voices when I first mentioned flying across the globe to Auckland. Wherever it stems from, it was a very real hesitation that for many years kept me from booking the ticket to Aotearoa that I had daydreamed about for so long.
It wasn’t until my 30th birthday that it suddenly dawned on me that I no longer had all the time in the world to wait for the ‘perfect’ moment. In fact, time was of the essence. You might be thinking, why didn’t I decide to travel with a group of friends, or my partner instead? Well, I was fortunate enough to have a job I loved, one that gave me the flexibility and freedom to work remotely. I couldn’t expect anyone to put their life on pause to trek across the North and South Islands with me. So for this reason, I knew it was a journey I’d have to take alone. Before I could change my mind, I packed my thermal layers, said my goodbyes, and boarded a flight bound for New Zealand solo for the very first time.
I won’t sugarcoat it: from the moment I waved goodbye at airport departures to the second the wheels touched down in Auckland, I was gripped by waves of nervousness. Sitting on the plane during that long final stretch over the Pacific, I couldn’t help but run through every scenario where things could go wrong on the road. Luckily, once I made it through customs, I was temporarily distracted by navigating the local airport transfers and checking into my hostel near Viaduct Harbour. Still, the unfamiliar surroundings made my nerves flare up, and every minor obstacle felt like a sign that I should have stayed home.
When I arrived at the hostel, I quickly unpacked and hid away in my room, wondering if I had made a huge mistake. About an hour later, a knock came at my door. I was hesitant to answer, but opened it to find an elderly gentleman standing in the corridor holding a trail map. He was a solo traveler visiting from Japan, softly spoken and struggling slightly to find the right English words, but warm and reassuring. He showed me a note with the name of a local seafood spot by the harbor and asked if I knew which direction it was in.
I was hardly the expert guide, having only just arrived myself, but I couldn’t bear to leave him wandering alone. Craving an excuse to escape my own spiraling thoughts, I offered to walk down to the waterfront with him so we could figure it out together.
Before I knew it, we were sitting outside looking over the harbor, sharing a plate of fresh fish and chips while laughing over our mispronounced Kiwi place names. We talked about our travel itineraries and shared stories of back home for hours before strolling back under the city lights. What an incredible relief I felt that evening. Everything I had feared on the plane seemed to melt away, replaced by genuine excitement for the road trip ahead across New Zealand.
That encounter taught me how a single connection can completely dissolve fear. It reminded me that travel isn’t about navigating the journey in isolation, but about opening yourself up to the people and experiences you meet along the way.
Throughout the rest of my time exploring New Zealand, from hiking mountain trails to shopping for my new favourite women’s tracksuit, I made a conscious effort to say yes to unexpected conversations and shared journeys. I learned that the most breathtaking moments aren’t just the postcard views, but the warmth of shared stories when you least expect them.