Visiting Meteora wasn’t even on my radar when I boarded my first ever flight to Greece in August 2019. And yet it became the moment I understood what solo travel could give you.
Welcome to my photographic journal.
I take a lot of photos. Thousands, actually. And one day I thought: wouldn’t it be fun to pick a random photo from my camera roll and tell the story behind it?
Since it’s my blog and I make the rules around here, that’s exactly what we’re doing.
So let’s go.
This photo was taken during my very first solo trip. It was August 2019. I had just finished my first year of my master’s degree, I was 23 years old, and was absolutely terrified.
I had never taken a plane before. Had never travelled that far from home before.
And I had certainly never done it alone.
I’ve mentioned elsewhere on the blog that Edinburgh was my first real solo trip. And in some ways, that’s true. But this trip to Greece was the one that started it all.
Let me explain.
During my master’s degree, I became friends with an exchange student from Athens. While she was in France, I took her around my city, introduced her to French culture, and did my best to convince her that French gastronomy deserved its reputation.
When it was time for her to go home, she told me I should come and visit her in Greece someday. You know how people sometimes say that politely without really expecting it to happen? Well, a year later, I asked if the invitation still stood.
And to my surprise, it did.
So I booked a flight, packed my suitcase, gathered every ounce of courage I could find, and headed to the airport.
Technically, I travelled alone.
But I was travelling to meet someone.
That’s why I don’t fully consider it my first solo trip, even though at the time it felt like a huge achievement.
And honestly, it was.
Athens Alone: What Happens When You’re Left to Wander
My friend lived in Athens and welcomed me into her apartment. The only catch was that she was still working. Which meant that during the day, I was on my own. And looking back, that was probably the best thing that could have happened.
Every morning, I’d head out into the city alone. I wandered through old market streets, stumbled upon tiny churches hidden between busy roads, admired ancient ruins, and befriended more stray cats than I can count. Athens felt magical.
One moment you’d be walking through a noisy modern city, and the next you’d turn a corner and find yourself standing in front of something thousands of years old.
Where else does that happen?
At night, my friend would take over and introduce me to Athenian nightlife, which remains unmatched to this day. The rooftop bars. The late dinners. The endless conversations. The view of the Parthenon glowing above the city after sunset.
I absolutely loved it.
And yes, it was incredibly hot. But that’s also a great excuse to hop on a ferry and spend the day exploring the Saronic Islands. Which I did .
I visited Aegina and Agistri, spent time at the beach, ate questionable but delicious food, and consumed an irresponsible amount of iced lattes.
Life was good.
Visiting Meteora for the First Time: The Climb Nobody Warned Me About
After about a week, my friend finally finished work and suggested we visit her parents. They lived in Trikala, a charming town in central Greece. If you ever find yourself nearby, don’t skip it.
First, because it’s genuinely lovely.
And second, because it’s close to Meteora.
At the time, I had no idea what Meteora was. My friend simply told me she was taking me somewhere special the next day.
I said okay.
That’s how I ended up standing at the foot of one of the most extraordinary places I’ve ever seen.
And staring at what felt like an infinite number of stairs. In over 40°C heat.
Because apparently suffering is part of the authentic experience.
But honestly?
The climb was worth it.
I remember being completely amazed. Not just by the scenery, but by the monasteries themselves. How did people build something so high up? How did they carry materials there? How did they survive that heat?
I still don’t understand.
What I do understand is how I felt when I reached the top. The smile in this photo says it better than I ever could.
It felt almost otherworldly. Mountains in every direction.Ancient monasteries balanced on top of towering rock formations.
Silence. Space. Perspective.
It was beautiful.
Why This Photo Still Means Something
A few days later, I returned to France. But I wasn’t the same person who had boarded that plane two weeks earlier.
I felt more capable. More confident. More independent.
Because even if I had travelled to meet a friend, I had still spent days exploring a foreign city on my own. I had navigated airports. Taken my first flight. Gotten lost.
Found my way again.
And loved every minute of it.
That trip taught me something important.
I was capable of doing things that scared me.
And that realization became the beginning of a lifelong love for solo travel. Not because travelling alone is always easy.
But because there is something incredibly empowering about discovering that you can rely on yourself.
This photo was taken in Meteora.But when I look at it today, I don’t just see Greece.
I see the beginning of everything that came after.
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