The Journey Begins

Last year, in a fit of unrealistic optimism, I bought a ticket to see Benedict Cumberbatch in Hamlet in London. At the time - and to this day, to some extent - I had no idea how I was going to actually get there. But I had over a year to raise the funds and figure it out, so I went for it.

It's a year later, and this week, I booked a flight and a hotel room. I'm scared to death, but this is officially happening. Because I'm damn sure not about to back out now that I've spent over $2,000.

My hotel room in Hampstead.

I've been talking about this for months - thinking and planning and shopping around. My friends kept asking, "So, have you booked your trip, yet?" When I told them I had finally done it, they seemed surprised. The people who know me know this whole thing is out of character for me. I only go out with friends. I sometimes dine or go to the movies alone, but I don't like it. I wouldn't have half of my friends, if not for other friends introducing them to me. So, you could say I'm an introvert. An introvert doesn't travel to a foreign country alone.

In the last few days, I've been reading about women traveling alone, and every account I read makes it sound amazing and liberating. I've always been independent, my shyness aside, and I can imagine how this would be an incredible experience for me. I can see how it could boost my confidence tenfold. God knows I need that.