I took a deep breath and stepped into the Italian restaurant Amano in Auckland, New Zealand.
My 21-day solo trip was off to a rocky start. My goal for the day was to explore the city, see its beaches, and visit a few cafes and restaurants.
I thought it was going to take all morning and afternoon. Instead, it took just a few hours.
I spent the rest of my day bouncing between emotions. I was feeling lonely, which turned into frustration when I realized I was wasting my time feeling sorry for myself on a trip to new parts of the world. I felt hyperaware that I was sitting alone at a restaurant when everyone else around me was dining with others. And I looked at the 20 days ahead of me fearing these emotions of loneliness would stick.
As I sat at the bar, I wondered why this solo travel day had gone so poorly. By this point, I had spent dozens of days by myself traveling in both the US and around the globe. Why did today suck?
I landed on the fact that my mindset didn't match my day's itinerary. Since I didn't have enough planned and was grumpy from jet lag, my empty schedule only encouraged me to dwell on the negatives.
For the most part, I'm comfortable being alone. I spend most of my afternoons and evenings with friends, so when the rare solo weekend or night approaches, I celebrate.
I also celebrate solo traveling. It allows me to do what I want when I want. I can wake up for sunrise without anyone complaining about sleeping in; I pick which tourist traps I want to visit and which ones I want to skip; and I can decide how long I spend in a destination and leave at the drop of a hat.
I thrive while traveling by myself. But that doesn't mean I don't have hard days.
To prevent those days from happening, I keep my schedule busy.
Prior to each trip, I create a list of all the museums I have any interest in visiting. I list out all the restaurants I want to dine in, as well as takeout options and fast-food restaurants. I'll map out roadside attractions, local events, tourist traps, and other activities I can fill my days with.
The goal is to create a list so long it's impossible to complete. That way, I'm never bored or sulking in a bad attitude.
This is especially helpful when something goes wrong.
On a recent solo trip to Japan, I missed a train and had to wait another hour for the next one. Thankfully, it wasn't a big deal, but I was frustrated with myself for being late.
Instead of spending an hour being upset about my mistake, I pulled up my list, spotted a nearby bakery with traditional Japanese pastries, and headed that way.
A few years ago, I would've likely let a missed train ruin my day, but by filling my schedule with delightful, flaky foods, I distracted myself from my error. And once the sugar was pulsing through my system, I was back in a good mood.
I don't build itineraries when I travel with friends. That's because I know I'll have company, and we can wander around aimlessly and still have a good time.
There are times when I can have a blast exploring with no plans and no one else, but it doesn't always work that way. So I keep full itineraries as an option — not a requirement.
I'm still open to exploring places I've never heard of or listening to a local's restaurant recommendation. Thankfully, this ability to pivot has led to some of my favorite travel memories.
I also check in with myself on when I need to rest. I feel pressured to cram in activities when visiting a new place, but sometimes a night in with takeout is the fuel I need for the rest of the trip.
My jam-packed itinerary isn't set in stone. Instead, I've learned to tune into my feelings and create a schedule that best suits my needs.
Typically, though, I feel most fulfilled when I'm doing a lot, so with a stuffed schedule, I'll always have options.