In 2024, I went on a two-week solo trip to Europe, visiting Greece, Turkey, London, and Barcelona. I was used to traveling solo and had lived in London from 2013 to 2017, so it was comfortable territory.

A few months before leaving, I put a pause on dating. I was exhausted from the dates I had been on and wanted to give myself some time to regroup. But once I arrived in Greece, my first destination, I downloaded Tinder.

I kept my expectations low when it came to dating abroad

It was the hopeless romantic in me that made the decision. I love reading romance novels and hearing stories of people meeting their partners while traveling abroad, and I secretly dreamed that I’d meet a partner outside America, but still, I kept my expectations low.

I was open to the idea of a relationship, but mostly, I just hoped to squeeze in a few cute dates and meet some interesting people along the way. Yet, my now-boyfriend was one of the first people I swiped right on.

There was an instant connection between us

My partner lives in London. We matched while I was in Greece and spent a week talking on WhatsApp before the London portion of my summer vacation. We bonded over our love of live music; he had just seen SZA in concert and sent me videos of her singing my favorite songs.

By the time I arrived in London, he had our first date planned out.

We started at Kioku Sake Bar, inside the Raffles London at The OWO, and then went to the 8 at the Londoner in Leicester Square. We shared lobster tempura with a view of Big Ben that felt unreal. Our conversation flowed, and from the moment we met, it felt oddly natural.

I messaged him the next day to ask if he wanted to get afternoon tea before I left for Spain.

I wasn’t sure if we’d continue dating when I went back to the US

Three days later, I went back to the US. Although we were talking every day at that point, I expected a few polite texts, then a slow fizzle. I didn’t want to get my hopes up — we were thousands of miles apart, and I would have understood if he didn’t want to keep up the effort.

Instead, he booked a flight to see me while I was home visiting family in Chicago a month later. And two months after that, I was back in London.

It felt bold, spontaneous, and at the same time, weirdly comfortable.

We’re long-distance now, and communication is key

In a long-distance relationship, everything feels accelerated. We had to learn how to communicate our expectations early on so we wouldn’t waste each other’s time. In those first few months, we started using an app called Just Us, which asks relationship questions from how you like to spend your alone time to what holidays with your family look like.

We’d talk about the questions over the phone; it became a fun ritual that helped us get to know each other better and opened the door for deeper conversations.

Travel brought us together in the beginning, and it still does

Not only have we visited each other where we both are from — London for him, Chicago for me — but we’ve also made memories in the spaces in between. Together, we’ve traveled to Japan, Austria, and New York. We celebrated my birthday with samba music in Brazil and wandered the shopping alleys of Paris for his.

We’ve cried (mostly me) over lost luggage, overpacked for weekend trips, sprinted for trains, and laughed through every bit of it. It’s now been a year since we met, and our relationship has been marked by passport stamps.

We’ve put a lot of intention into making our relationship work

A few months in, we created a shared Google Calendar to keep track of everything from work meetings to nights out with friends. We can see when the other person is busy, and it’s been a helpful tool for planning, especially when figuring out future trips and making the most of our time off. We also make sure to have a shared activity while we are apart, like watching the same TV show on weekends when we have more time to be on the phone.

We aim to see each other every two to three months — sometimes just for a weekend, and other times, for a week or two. Since we both travel often for work and leisure, we’ve been able to use our miles to help cover flights.

Although we are 4,911 miles apart, the distance comforts me. It reminds me that we’re both making an effort, and my individuality has always been important to me. Long-distance relationships work best when both people feel grounded in their own lives. Maintaining careers, friendships, and hobbies outside the relationship isn’t just healthy; it’s necessary.

While we do plan to close the gap one day, for now, the distance is part of our story. And to think, it all started because I downloaded an app.

As the plane descended into Darwin, I gazed out the window at the harbour far below, my stomach in knots. 

I was terrified. I’d never travelled alone before and had no idea of the impact it was about to have on my life.

Even when I moved to Mbantua/Alice Springs for work, I’d had the support of friends and family every step of the way, offering advice and coordinating logistics. The move had also been a few years ago, and in the meantime, I’d grown familiar with my life.

I dreamed of visiting new places, but the unknown sounded scary. 

While friends jetted off to Europe and America, I watched from the sidelines, too afraid to have my own adventures, trapped by anxiety.

Eventually, in my 30s, I decided I couldn’t let the situation go on. Seeing a friend’s photos of a getaway to a tropical paradise was the final straw.

Still afraid, I chose to book a holiday to Darwin, only a short flight away on Larrakia Country. I’d ruled out going overseas, believing it would be too much for a first trip.

A week from the start of my holiday, I almost cancelled my flights out of sheer panic.

But I didn’t — and that decision opened the door to all that came next.

The first days of exploring the Top End

When the plane landed, I took a deep breath, grabbed my luggage, and organised a taxi to my accommodation.

In my hotel, I reviewed the day trips I’d booked. I found the prospect of travelling with strangers hundreds of kilometres each day on tours daunting and didn’t get much sleep that night.

The next morning, as the coach lurched out of Darwin in the pre-dawn, I tried to talk myself into relaxing — easier said than done.

I still had my heart in my mouth as I walked the trails in Kakadu. 

As I looked at rock art and listened to the guide speak about the flora of the rainforest, dread washed over me because I was in a completely new place without my support system. What if something went wrong? 

On another day when we went swimming at Wangi Falls in Litchfield National Park, I only dipped my feet in while others dunked themselves completely.

The turning point of my holiday

Unexpectedly, my discomfort didn’t last forever.

About halfway through the trip, sitting on a boat on the crocodile-infested Mary River, knowing life jackets would be useless, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I seemed to be coping.

Instead, I was chatting to fellow tourists surrounded by the wildness of nature.

Two days later, when floating down the majestic Nitmiluk (Katherine Gorge) to the song of cicadas, the realisation that I’d accomplished my dream hit home. I’d risen above my fear and lived beyond my limitations.

Confidence surged through me.

From that moment onwards, I enjoyed every minute of my trip. 

When visiting the Tiwi Islands, instead of drawing back with hesitation, I asked questions and took every opportunity to learn about the region’s culture and history.

No longer constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the worst to happen, I soaked up everything and focused on having a good time.

One of my favourite memories is of sailing out on Darwin Harbour to view the foreshore from the water. The touch of ocean breezes over the glittering waves sealed travelling to Darwin and the Top End as one of the best experiences I’d ever had.

Normal life felt different

When I returned home to Alice Springs, people remarked that I seemed more grounded and self-assured. 

I sought out numerous new locations to visit locally in Central Australia, marvelling at the landscape. I also enjoyed swapping travel stories with the students at the school where I taught.

Inspired to continue travelling, I took opportunities to book solo trips to other destinations in Australia. 

I’m just getting started, and keen to see different places and learn to trust myself even more.

Staying in Australia suits me for now because I want to see as much as I can of my home before I explore further afield — which I definitely plan on doing at some stage. 

In the meantime, Australia’s raw beauty and diversity never disappoints.

Visiting Darwin wasn’t just a holiday — it was a catalyst for freedom.

Sonia Morell is a freelance writer from Sydney who has lived and worked in Alice Springs.

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