Getting My Head Straight Before Takeoff
Right, so I decided to go ahead with that solo trip to that place everyone kept warning me about. You know the one. My family thought I was nuts. Honestly, part of me agreed with them, but the challenge got me hooked. I started planning like my life depended on it… because honestly, it kinda did.
First thing I did was dive deep into researching the specific neighborhoods. Forget just checking the country – I needed street-level intel. Spent hours on forums, travel blogs (looking for recent posts only!), and embassy sites. Made a list:
- No-go zones: Literally highlighted them in bright red on my offline map app.
- Safe-ish zones: Found a couple of areas where other travelers stayed without issues recently. Wrote those down.
- Local scams: Read up on the latest tricks – fake taxis, distraction thefts, the whole shebang. Felt like studying for an exam.
Next up was the gear. Didn’t want to stand out like a flashing tourist target. Ditched the fancy backpack for a beat-up old daypack. Left my shiny watch and fancy headphones at home. Got myself a super basic burner phone for navigating and comms – my expensive smartphone? Stuffed it right at the bottom of my bag, only for emergencies and pre-downloaded maps. Bought one of those secret money belts too. Felt a bit silly putting it on, but better safe than sorry.
Then came the awkward part: telling people where I was going. Made sure a couple of trusted folks back home knew my rough itinerary, had copies of my passport and basic info. Sent them check-in times. Printed out embassy contact details and stuck them everywhere – bag, wallet, phone case. Felt like I was prepping for a spy mission.
Hitting the Ground (Nervously)
Landed feeling super alert. Followed my research to the letter for getting into the city. Pre-booked an airport transfer recommended by several reliable sources. No way was I hailing a random cab. Driver met me inside the terminal with my name on a sign. Little things like that helped my nerves. Kept my bag hugged tight.
Checked into my accommodation – a small, family-run place in one of those ‘safe-ish’ zones I’d identified. Host seemed legit, place was clean and tucked away. Felt a tiny bit safer having a base.
First rule on the street: move with purpose. Always looked like I knew exactly where I was heading, even when I was just figuring it out. Kept the fancy camera hidden unless snapping a quick pic. Used that burner phone for navigation, checking discreetly. Kept scanning around, but tried not to look paranoid.
Learned quick that blending in was impossible, so I aimed for being uninteresting. Dressed simple, avoided eye contact with hustlers, didn’t linger anywhere too long. Kept small amounts of local cash in easily accessible pockets for daily stuff – drinks, snacks, tickets. Big bills and backup cards stayed tucked away under my clothes. Pulling cash from the secret pouch felt ridiculous, but hey, no one tried to pickpocket my underwear!
That One Incident…
Okay, so things weren’t always smooth. One evening, heading back to my place, I got turned around a bit. Ended up on a street that felt… off. Poor lighting, sketchy groups hanging around. My gut screamed “WRONG WAY!”
Suddenly, two guys started approaching me fast, talking loudly in local slang, gesturing aggressively. Couldn’t understand them, but the vibe was pure trouble. Heart jumped into my throat. Remembered what I’d read: don’t engage, don’t stop walking.
I immediately crossed the street, not looking at them, but walking firmly towards a small convenience store with lights on. Didn’t run, just sped up purposefully. Hopped inside like I needed something. Grabbed a water bottle, paid, watched the street. The guys hovered for a minute near where I’d been, saw me in the shop, then moved off. Hands were shaking holding that stupid bottle. Stayed in the shop a good ten minutes before heading straight back, sticking to the main road. Lesson learned: stick to the damn planned route after dark, idiot.
Wrapping Up (Relieved)
The rest of the trip stayed alert, maybe a little jumpy after that, but incident-free. Followed my own rules religiously. Only used official taxis booked through my hostel. Kept valuables hidden. Trusted the gut feeling – if a situation felt off, I left. No FOMO here, just safety.
Getting back on that plane home felt amazing. A huge mix of relief, exhaustion, and genuine accomplishment. Was it perfectly comfortable? Heck no. Was it worth it? For me, yeah. The places, the people who were kind… incredible. But it only worked because I put the boring safety prep first, every single day. Didn’t let my guard down. That’s the real takeaway. You gotta want that adventure enough to actually do the not-so-fun groundwork. Otherwise? Stay home.
