Everything Is Figureoutable: What I Learned from Traveling & Living Alone Abroad
Lessons from Bolivia, South Africa, and Four Years in Canada
At “Into Many Things” I write about the kind of life where the rules are optional. My two biggest joys are traveling (or even more so, living abroad) and asking big questions about life—because, honestly, why not? Expect personal essays, travel guides from the many places I’ve been to, and a few thoughts on the little things that make life worth living.
There’s something about being completely on your own. No safety net, no familiar faces, no one to split the burden with. It strips you down to your most essential self. You learn what you’re capable of, what scares you, and what actually matters to you when no one else is around to influence the answer.
I’ve traveled solo to Bolivia and South Africa, then packed up my life and moved to Canada alone, where I lived by myself for four years. As an introvert, I fell in love with the autonomy of it all; the quiet independence, the ability to move through the world on my own terms. But that’s not to say it was easy.
Lately, I’ve had so many conversations on Substack with people who have done the same. People who have traveled alone, lived abroad, pushed themselves beyond the comfortable and familiar. And no matter where we went or how different our lives are, the core experiences seem universal. There’s something about these moments that forces you to grow in ways you never expected.
Here’s what I learned (from my experiences and yours):
1. Everything Is Figureoutable*
Visas. Buying a car. Getting your car towed. Furnishing an apartment from scratch. Dealing with insurance. Finding a doctor. Finding a dentist. Filling out tax forms that make no sense.
Every single one of these things felt impossible at first, especially in a country where I didn’t grow up, where the rules and systems were unfamiliar. But eventually, you realize that no one actually knows what they’re doing the first time. You just start. You Google. You ask people. You make mistakes. And somehow, things get done.
I had to learn this firsthand when I bought an old IKEA bed frame from a stranger on Kijiji. I thought I could pick it up by myself. I didn’t anticipate how much it would weigh, how awkward it would be to fit into my tiny car, or how impossible it would be to assemble without a second set of hands. It was a mess. I got frustrated, sweaty, and tired. But eventually, the bed stood. And that moment, the one where you look at something that once felt impossible and realize you did it, that moment is addictive.
2. The High of Ultimate Freedom vs. the Weight of Responsibility
Living alone in a foreign country means absolute freedom. You wake up and decide exactly how your day will go. You don’t have to compromise on plans. But that freedom comes with an equal weight of responsibility.
When things go wrong, there’s no default person to call. No family nearby. No lifelong friend who just knows what to do. Back home, my instinct would always be to call my mom. But with an 8-hour time difference, that wasn’t always an option. I had close friends in Canada, but there was never that one go-to person who would just show up without question.
That’s both terrifying and empowering. Because eventually, you learn that you can be that person for yourself.
3. I Believe in the Good in People (Sometimes to a Fault)
The belief in the goodness of others is something that’s always been central to who I am. I’ve always trusted that most people are acting in good faith. But traveling alone can challenge that belief.
One of the most unsettling moments of my life came in Bolivia, when I found myself alone in a taxi. The driver’s route didn’t seem familiar, and his questions were odd, almost as if he was trying to gauge how much I knew about where I was going. My phone was dying, and I hadn’t taken a photo of the taxi’s license plate, something a friend had warned me to do.
That moment was a wake-up call. My instinct told me something was wrong, but I had ignored it, telling myself I was just being paranoid. I’m lucky it didn’t escalate, but that experience has stayed with me as a reminder that sometimes, even the people who seem the most harmless can have ulterior motives.
It doesn’t make me cynical, though. It just makes me more aware.
4. Always Saying Yes
I’ve never been the life of the party. I’m the type who enjoys my own company, but over the years of traveling and living abroad, I realized that saying yes to things, especially as an introvert, was often the key to unlocking experiences that shaped my journey.
It wasn’t always comfortable. I’ve had awkward coffee dates, nightmarish “group activities,” and moments where I wanted to run away and hide in my apartment. But these moments also led me to new connections, new insights, and new parts of myself I hadn’t known existed.
I made a habit of saying yes to anything that felt even remotely interesting, even if it scared me. I said yes to meetups, to random events, to people who reached out. In the end, it was those uncomfortable yeses that shaped my experience abroad the most.
6. Finding Friends as an Expat Is Weird
I was lucky—I worked in a coworking space, which made meeting people easier. But I also used Bumble BFF, and let me tell you, making friends through an app feels oddly like dating. You connect on the app, see if you vibe, decide to meet up at a coffee shop and then have that awkward first date. Still, some of my best friendships came from that and we are still friends to this day, even if we no longer live in the same country.
7. You Learn What Actually Makes You Happy
When you live alone abroad, you have to face yourself every single day. And in that process, you begin to truly discover what brings you joy, without the influence of other people’s opinions or societal expectations.
When you’re on your own, there’s no one else’s preferences to mold around. No default “things to do” because that’s just what your friend group does. You have to actively choose your life.
For me that means that now that I am in a partnership, I really know who I am, what I want out of life and what draws me in. Because I had to spend so much time with myself figuring all of that out and being my own best companion.
8. Constant Thoughts of “What Am I Doing?”
Of course, there were moments of doubt. There were nights when I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d made a mistake. If I should just go home. If I was missing out on the life my friends were living—one with stability, routine, proximity to family. I was missing out on friends’ weddings, my nieces being born and growing up, seeing my family age and celebrate countless birthdays. For what? To sit in a country by myself?
But every time I questioned it, I came back to the same answer: I wasn’t done yet. I will probably never be done. Something that might look so stupid on the outside actually felt like the right thing to do.
These experiences shaped me more than anything else.
If you were to ask me today, “What’s your biggest fear?” my answer would probably surprise you: I don’t really have one. Not because I’m fearless, but because I’ve learned that life is unpredictable. Things will go wrong, and when they do, you’ll figure it out. It might be messy or difficult, but you’ll handle it somehow.
I don’t say this to sound like I have it all figured out—because I certainly don’t. But my husband and I always say that everything is a choice. Nothing is too hard to do. And I know that might sound overly simple, but in those moments when everything feels impossible, it’s a reminder that sometimes, the things that feel the hardest are the ones that are the most worthwhile.
*this term is not my own, it’s the title of a book by Marie Forleo. I just find it so fitting when it comes to many things in life.
I relate so hard to assembling a bed yourself. A ten-minute job that took an hour, but alas, it was done. Also, I love that you lived in Calgary. Hard to find people on here that did.
We certainly don't know what we can do until we try. 🙏 Then what we find ordinary is extraordinary to others.