@myka28044: 𝐍𝐠𝐚̂𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨̛ 𝐭𝐡𝐞̂𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐮́𝐭 𝐛𝐨̛ 𝐩𝐡𝐨̛̀. 𝐏𝐡𝐚̂̉𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞̂𝐦 𝐦𝐨̣̂𝐭 𝐜𝐚́𝐢 𝐝𝐚̣𝐢 𝐤𝐡𝐨̛̀ 𝐝𝐞̂̃ 𝐭𝐡𝐮̛𝐨̛𝐧𝐠..!😊😊

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Whenever I tell people I travel alone, I can almost predict the reaction. Eight times out of ten, it’s the same tilted head, the same puzzled expression. Like I’ve just admitted to something slightly unhinged. “You aren’t afraid?” “Wouldn’t it be better with someone?” “What do you even do by yourself?” And every time, I smile. Because the truth is simple: no, I’m not afraid. I love being alone. It’s my kind of therapy—the quiet, the freedom, the ability to wake up and decide the entire day belongs only to me. Call it selfish if you want, but it’s one of the few things in my twenties I wish I had discovered sooner. But my first solo trip… that was something else entirely. It was France. My first time visiting the vineyard where Memories Wine was born. Bordeaux wrapped itself around me in a way I didn’t expect, and when I left, it felt like I’d left a piece of my heart behind in those rows of vines. From there, I drifted through Lyon, wandered into smaller cities, and eventually found myself in Paris. And I cried. Every single day. Not because I wasn’t grateful. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. But there was this quiet ache that followed me everywhere. I couldn’t call my mom since she passed. I couldn’t share the little details; the way the light hit the buildings, the strangers who became conversations, the moments that felt too big to keep to myself. It was beautiful, but it was lonely in a way I hadn’t prepared for. Then one evening, just before the sun slipped away, I found myself at a wine bar in Paris—Le Mary Celeste. I was sitting alone, halfway into my second bottle, letting the world blur a little around the edges. That’s when I heard it. A New York accent cutting through the room. She asked if they had space for one. They didn’t. I looked up. Bright red hair. A smile that felt instantly familiar. And without really thinking, I offered her the empty chair across from me. That was how I met Kristen. What started as a simple “sit here” turned into a night that refused to end—wine flowing into laughter, laughter spilling into jazz bars, the kind of night that feels like it was written before you ever lived it. A few days later, she bought a last-minute ticket and joined me at the opera. We showed up in ball gowns, completely committed, and somehow ended the night at dinner wrapped in the restaurant’s blankets like they were part of the outfit—our own ridiculous, perfect fashion statement. And just like that, a stranger became a wonderful experience. Since that night, we’ve stayed in touch, checking in on each other’s lives across time and distance. That’s the thing about traveling alone. Yes, it’s quiet. Yes, it can be heavy. But it cracks the world open in ways you don’t expect. It invites moments that would never exist if you stayed within the comfort of familiarity. I love traveling with friends and I adore them dearly. I love shared memories. But if you know me, you know this too—I love the unknown. I love putting myself in situations where I have to reach out, speak first, take a chance. Because sometimes, the most unforgettable parts of your life begin with an empty chair… and the courage to say, “You can sit here.” #fyp #grief #paris #solotrip #winetiktok🍷

Whenever I tell people I travel alone, I can almost predict the reaction. Eight times out of ten, it’s the same tilted head, the same puzzled expression. Like I’ve just admitted to something slightly unhinged. “You aren’t afraid?” “Wouldn’t it be better with someone?” “What do you even do by yourself?” And every time, I smile. Because the truth is simple: no, I’m not afraid. I love being alone. It’s my kind of therapy—the quiet, the freedom, the ability to wake up and decide the entire day belongs only to me. Call it selfish if you want, but it’s one of the few things in my twenties I wish I had discovered sooner. But my first solo trip… that was something else entirely. It was France. My first time visiting the vineyard where Memories Wine was born. Bordeaux wrapped itself around me in a way I didn’t expect, and when I left, it felt like I’d left a piece of my heart behind in those rows of vines. From there, I drifted through Lyon, wandered into smaller cities, and eventually found myself in Paris. And I cried. Every single day. Not because I wasn’t grateful. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. But there was this quiet ache that followed me everywhere. I couldn’t call my mom since she passed. I couldn’t share the little details; the way the light hit the buildings, the strangers who became conversations, the moments that felt too big to keep to myself. It was beautiful, but it was lonely in a way I hadn’t prepared for. Then one evening, just before the sun slipped away, I found myself at a wine bar in Paris—Le Mary Celeste. I was sitting alone, halfway into my second bottle, letting the world blur a little around the edges. That’s when I heard it. A New York accent cutting through the room. She asked if they had space for one. They didn’t. I looked up. Bright red hair. A smile that felt instantly familiar. And without really thinking, I offered her the empty chair across from me. That was how I met Kristen. What started as a simple “sit here” turned into a night that refused to end—wine flowing into laughter, laughter spilling into jazz bars, the kind of night that feels like it was written before you ever lived it. A few days later, she bought a last-minute ticket and joined me at the opera. We showed up in ball gowns, completely committed, and somehow ended the night at dinner wrapped in the restaurant’s blankets like they were part of the outfit—our own ridiculous, perfect fashion statement. And just like that, a stranger became a wonderful experience. Since that night, we’ve stayed in touch, checking in on each other’s lives across time and distance. That’s the thing about traveling alone. Yes, it’s quiet. Yes, it can be heavy. But it cracks the world open in ways you don’t expect. It invites moments that would never exist if you stayed within the comfort of familiarity. I love traveling with friends and I adore them dearly. I love shared memories. But if you know me, you know this too—I love the unknown. I love putting myself in situations where I have to reach out, speak first, take a chance. Because sometimes, the most unforgettable parts of your life begin with an empty chair… and the courage to say, “You can sit here.” #fyp #grief #paris #solotrip #winetiktok🍷

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