It all started when I came back from London this spring. The long-awaited travel itch COVID caused that needed scratching was not yet satisfied. As soon as I landed home, the gears were already turning for my next. However this time I wanted to do it solo, and I wanted to go to Portugal.
Planning the trip was quite easy. Since I was traveling alone I can go at my own pace. “Rachel, how did you afford the flight?” Credit card points. There are countless travel credit cards out there. (I personally use the Propel American Express from Wells Fargo—has stellar travel benefits and point opportunities.) I sh*t you not it cost me fewer points to go to Europe than it was to go to the west coast. Plus, even if I didn’t have the points, I use the Hopper app or Scott’s Cheap Flights to track prices. (You’d be surprised at how affordable traveling international can be AND I have booked through both—they are LEGIT.) Once I got the email confirmation from the airline that I am heading to Lisbon, I began to dream.
Last summer I read the memoir What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding by Kristen Newman who is a television writer in LA. When she was in her 20s and when her travel companions were off getting married and having kids, she began to travel solo around the world. Reading about her international adventures had me dreaming of a jet-setting life like hers. When I finished the book, I actually said aloud to myself “I want that life, I’m going to have that life.”
Now on to the juicy stuff…fast forward to October 6th, 2022…
It was a crisp afternoon in Milwaukee. I lugged my suitcase down the steps of my old apartment. Rain sprinkled through the air and trees along the block were just turning orange. My hairstylist-now turned close friend Katie was picking me up. Approaching her car I breathed to myself: “Let’s f****** do this”. With Starbucks in hand, we pushed the speed limit down to Chicago. This solo trip seemed to be a dream, even in the moment of going to the airport. When the drop-off finally arrived, the dream quickly became a reality. I gave Katie a hug and hovered into O’Hare’s terminal 2. Once my suitcase was checked and my boarding passes were in hand it became real. ***Holy sh*t this is actually happening*** My stomach fluttered with butterflies.
My Dad is a pilot for American and was actually at O’Hare when I was. He was heading to Dallas for training and I had time to kill. As we were shooting the sh*t and hanging out, I realized I forgot my outlet converter at home. He reaches into his suitcase and hands me his, along with 50 euros cash. His flight was then called to board. We embraced and he said, “Be safe Rachel, I love you.” We departed.
I had a layover in Toronto for a few hours. Starving, I plopped myself down at a counter or a lounge and set up camp. Oddly an iPad was at each seat of this place-realizing that a waiter will not be approaching me. Smug, I place my order on the iPad: a large glass of white wine and a Vitamin Water (it’s all about balance). The wine hit me faster because I had an empty stomach—so naturally, I call my Mom reassuring her that I am not dead. Then my good girlfriend Kerrigan, because I was buzzed and bored.
At around 11 pm I boarded my long-haul flight. Final destination: Lisbon, Portugal. I boarded this flight with the expectation that I would get no sleep since I forgot my neck pillow. My fingers were crossed that the wine I had earlier would help me doze off. I had a window seat, and one aisle seat next to me. Soon after I sat down a 30s-something old guy plops down next to me. We don’t say anything other than the friendly “hello’s”. As we are taxiing to the runway the safety video is playing on the seat-back screens. Once it finishes the guy turns to me and says “Is it just me or was that some cult sh*t?” I crack up. We chatted about our plans in Portugal over a glass of wine and our mediocre airline dinner. Soon after (and to my surprise) I actually got some sleep.
We land in Lisbon at noon. Everyone was eager to shuffle off the plane to get their adventures started. Once my SIM card was up and running on my phone, I had some text messages from a +351 number. I booked a private Mercedes to drive me to AND from the airport because I knew I would be jet-lagged, and it was only 50 US dollars. “Hi Rachel, it’s Diego. I will be your private driver to your hostel. Please let me know if you have any delays through customs. Welcome to Lisboa!”
I blasted “Caution” by the Killers through my AirPods and went to customs.
