Last Updated on December 9, 2024 by Michael

How to Be a Solo Travel Legend Without Ending Up on the Evening News

Solo travel sounds like a dream: freedom, exploration, and doing whatever you want, whenever you want. But let’s face it—when you’re alone out there, it’s also the perfect scenario for becoming that guy on the news who mysteriously disappears because he trusted a hitchhiking raccoon. I’m here to guide you through not becoming that headline and, even better, making the journey downright weird in the best way possible.

Petting Goats for Street Cred (And Safety!)

Solo travel isn’t about just finding yourself—it’s about finding goats. The kind with beards, not the Greatest Of All Time athletes. Goats are great icebreakers. If you see one, approach it confidently. Look it in the eyes like you’re about to challenge it to a thumb war, but then back off and pet it gently. Suddenly, people around you think, “Wow, that solo traveler has goat friends. Must be wise.” Goats add an air of mystery. People don’t mess with travelers who hang out with goats; they’re just too unpredictable.

If you’re in a city without goats, improvise. Pigeons are just city goats with wings. No one understands them, and that’s your in. Feed a pigeon some bread crumbs, and before you know it, you’ll have a whole entourage. Tourists will assume you’re an eccentric local who knows things, and let’s be honest, you’re more likely to be safe if you look like someone who has whispered secrets to pigeons. No one wants to cross the guy who knows the pigeon king by name.

Animals are also great for taking photos. A selfie with a goat or a pigeon entourage sends a signal to everyone back home: “I’m out here thriving, not struggling.” Plus, it’s harder to steal your phone when you’re elbow-deep in goat selfies.

The Hot Dog Method: Eating Alone Like You’re Important

Eating alone can be awkward. Here’s the trick: order something as ridiculous as possible. A hot dog the size of your leg? Yes. A full lobster at 10 AM? Absolutely. You need something that will attract so much attention to your food that people forget you’re by yourself. Not only will this confuse onlookers, but it’ll also make you look like you’re filming some niche food documentary.

And the best part of the hot dog method is that it works in any country. Imagine yourself, sitting on a patio in Italy, aggressively wrestling with a slice of lasagna that’s bigger than a toddler. Strangers won’t judge your solitude—they’ll fear for their lives and maybe even respect your choices. Plus, a messy eating situation makes you unapproachable to petty criminals. Nobody is going to pickpocket someone who looks like they’ve just emerged victorious from a tomato sauce battle.

When eating alone, never bring a book. That’s the amateur move. Instead, bring an empty folder full of meaningless documents. Occasionally take one out and squint at it, then make a note on your phone. Everyone will assume you’re a food critic or possibly a spy. Either way, no one will bother you, and you might even get free dessert.

Talking to Inanimate Objects to Blend In

Nothing says “I belong here” like striking up a heated conversation with a lamppost. Solo travelers often feel the need to connect, but there’s no need to waste your words on other humans. Lampposts, trees, random fountains—they’re all excellent conversation partners, and they won’t judge you. If anything, they’ll listen better than the average tourist you’d meet at a hostel.

Imagine you’re in Paris. Everyone’s in awe of the Eiffel Tower, but you’re busy having a philosophical debate with a trash can about the ethics of croissants. That’s how you blend in—you become part of the city’s weirdness. No pickpocket’s going to take a chance on someone debating a trash can; the risk of unpredictability is just too high.

Plus, talking to inanimate objects will make you more approachable to the right kind of people—other weirdos. The people who walk up to you while you’re asking a bench for life advice are probably the most interesting individuals in town. And honestly, it’s a safer bet to have a network of eccentric locals than to be stuck with the regular backpacker crowd who only wants to talk about the best places to get cheap beer.

Wear Sunglasses Inside and Speak in Mysterious Tongues

Sunglasses are not just for blocking out UV rays—they’re for blocking out bad vibes. If you wear sunglasses indoors, especially in questionable places like convenience stores at midnight, you’re immediately placed in the “don’t mess with me” category. You’re a wild card, a maverick, someone who does not care about society’s unwritten rules about eyewear etiquette.

Now, pair those sunglasses with sporadic bursts of a language you just made up. No, it doesn’t have to be a real language—just a few guttural sounds, some high-pitched whistling, and maybe a smattering of words you overheard on TV once. You’ll instantly become an enigma. Locals will think you’re some eccentric millionaire—possibly dangerous, definitely wealthy. Thieves don’t mess with eccentric millionaires; they know the risk of retaliation is just too high.

And let’s not forget the added bonus: people will just leave you alone. If you’re in a crowded place, like a busy train station, start muttering your made-up language. Trust me, it’s more effective than pretending to be on the phone, and no one’s going to approach the person having an intense conversation in what might be Elvish.

Befriend Questionable Statues and Give Them Names

Every city has a weird statue that no one pays attention to. Maybe it’s a man holding a fish, maybe it’s just an oddly muscular baby—who knows? These statues are your new best friends. Give them names, create elaborate backstories, and make sure people hear you greet them as if they’re old pals.

Imagine strolling through a public square and stopping in front of a statue of a man riding a donkey. You loudly exclaim, “Ah, Trevor, my old friend, you still haven’t paid off that donkey, have you?” Suddenly, you’re no longer just another tourist. You’re someone with connections, someone who’s in on an inside joke with the city itself. No one wants to mess with the guy who’s best friends with Trevor, the questionable bronze donkey rider.

Giving statues names also makes solo travel way less lonely. You’ll start seeing these statues as familiar faces. And when people see you talking to them, they’ll think twice before bothering you. Who knows what kind of magical powers a person who speaks to statues might have? It’s all about cultivating that air of unpredictability. Plus, if you’re feeling extra generous, throw a scarf on your favorite statue. Nothing says “I’m connected” like dressing up public art.

Fake Your Own Cult, Complete with Hand Gestures

If you really want to enjoy solo travel safely, nothing beats the safety of belonging to an imaginary cult. The beauty of this strategy is that it’s all in the performance. Walk confidently through the streets, nodding at strangers as if they’re all in on some shared secret. Occasionally raise your hand in a strange gesture—something that looks like a mix between a high five and a confused wave. People will either think you’re part of some niche movement or just completely lose interest because, honestly, who wants to get tangled up with cult members?

You can even give your cult a catchy name. Call it something ridiculous like “The Brotherhood of the Left Sock.” When someone asks you what you’re doing, look at them dead in the eyes and say, “The Left Sock has blessed this journey.” They’ll leave you alone, guaranteed.

If you’re feeling really committed, start humming a tune that sounds like it could be a hymn. No lyrics, just a mysterious tune that sounds vaguely ceremonial. People love a good mystery, and nothing says “I’m not to be trifled with” like a lone traveler on a pilgrimage for the almighty Left Sock.

Creating your own fake cult is not only a great way to stay safe, but it’s also an excellent way to meet fellow travelers. Those who approach you will either be genuinely interested or just as weird as you are. Either way, you’ve found your people. And isn’t that what travel is all about?

Dance Poorly in Public for an Air of Confidence

If you want to be left alone but also admired, there’s nothing quite like busting out some terrible dance moves in public. Not good dancing—that’s for people who care too much. I’m talking about the kind of dancing that makes people wonder if you’re experiencing an otherworldly possession or if you just really love off-beat interpretive jazz.

Take a busy street corner, put in your headphones, and let the spirit of cringe-worthy moves flow through you. It’s not about rhythm; it’s about flailing your limbs in a way that suggests you’ve transcended normal human concerns. Bad dancing projects a level of confidence that most people only dream of, and it’s a major deterrent to anyone who might think you’re an easy target.

There’s something about a person who can dance like they’re alone, even in the middle of a crowded street, that just screams “don’t mess with me.” It’s the unpredictability again—no one wants to deal with someone who might suddenly start windmilling their arms at any moment. It’s like an invisible force field made of awkwardness.

Plus, dancing badly makes you look happy. A happy traveler is a confident traveler, and confidence is key to staying safe. People are more likely to target someone who looks nervous or lost, not the person who’s passionately doing the worm next to a hot dog stand. Bad dancing is liberating, disarming, and honestly, just a good time.

The International Slippery Stairs Society: Slip Your Way to Safety

Solo travelers often get worried about being followed or harassed, but there’s a secret weapon that’s rarely utilized: portable slippery stairs. That’s right, a collapsible mat that transforms any regular staircase into a slip-and-slide. Anytime you feel someone’s been following you for too long, locate a staircase, lay down your slippery mat, and let chaos take the wheel. Suddenly, your pursuers are flailing, sliding, and ultimately reconsidering their life choices.

You may think this is impractical, but imagine the look on someone’s face when you casually set down a slippery staircase as if it’s a normal part of travel. People start to realize you’re not someone to be trifled with. You have an entire “emergency plan” involving stair-related accidents, and you’re not afraid to use it.

Want to take it to the next level? Challenge random locals to slippery stair races. The randomness of the challenge combined with the guaranteed hilarity is enough to not only entertain but also build some interesting friendships along the way. Let’s face it—if you’re the person known for pulling out a slippery mat and making a spectacle, you’re immediately branded as “the fun one” in the group.

And the best part? It works as a workout! You’ll be running up and down slippery stairs like a wannabe ninja. Who needs a gym membership when you’re causing accidental chaos with stair mats? Plus, no petty thief is going to mess with someone who has an arsenal of slip-based tactics.

People often overlook these bizarre methods in favor of traditional safety tactics like pepper spray. But honestly, why use pepper spray when you can use a carefully constructed, chaos-inducing strategy that brings joy, laughter, and sore glutes? If someone follows you up a staircase and suddenly finds themselves slipping down, it’s a clear message: Don’t follow the solo traveler with the slippery stairs mat.

And here’s the unexpected benefit: instant street cred with children. Nothing will gain you a bigger cheering squad than a group of excited kids witnessing a slippery stair event. You may even end up being known as “The Stair Master” in certain circles. And who doesn’t want a nickname that good?

Plus, let’s not ignore the social aspect. Setting up slippery stair challenges can help you meet locals in a fun and ridiculous way. Suddenly, you’re the stranger bringing joy and ridiculousness to an otherwise mundane day. Just imagine the smiles and weird looks you’ll get—honestly, it’s worth it.

If all else fails, the slippery mat can even double as a comfortable sitting pad for those moments you’re tired of standing. Or you could wear it like a superhero cape—because nothing says “don’t mess with me” quite like an adult wearing a slippery stair mat for no apparent reason.

Fake Tourist Trap Reviewer: Claim the Best Spots Are Closed

Let’s say you’ve found yourself in an overcrowded tourist trap, and you just want a moment of peace. You could fight through the masses, or you could take a different approach: loudly declare that the tourist attraction is closed due to something ridiculous, like a llama outbreak or a scandalous statue dispute.

Walk around confidently, snapping photos and shaking your head. Then announce, “Oh no, it’s closed because the local government is doing an emergency study on the pigeon migration effect!” People will leave in droves. Nobody wants to stick around a site under “pigeon migration research.” And now, the place is all yours.

Take it up a notch: Claim there’s an obscure and entirely fictional historical fact about the location. For example, tell anyone who asks that the landmark is haunted by a 16th-century mime named Bertrand. Mimes are terrifying to most people; throw a haunting in there, and you’ll be enjoying the view alone in no time.

If anyone looks like they’re questioning your authority, whip out an official-looking clipboard. Wave it around like it contains proof of whatever nonsense you’re spouting. People trust clipboards. Clipboards give you credibility in ways that make no sense, but people don’t argue with someone holding one.

If you really want to mess with people, claim the tourist spot is temporarily closed for something absolutely absurd, like “emergency llama census” or “an exclusive viewing by the royal family of Antarctica.” It doesn’t have to make sense; the more ridiculous, the better. Just act serious and people will believe it.

When tourists begin leaving the area, take this as your cue to take a bunch of selfies and send them to everyone back home. Tell them you had a “private viewing” of the location, and suddenly, you’re the coolest solo traveler on Instagram. Sure, you might have manipulated some tourists, but isn’t that what solo travel is all about? Gaining questionable power over your environment?

And what’s better than watching a group of confused tourists try to figure out if an “emergency llama census” is a real thing? You’ll not only get some alone time with a tourist site but also a free show of confused tourists bumbling around.

Plus, the more ridiculous the reason, the better your chances of making a place truly yours. It’s not lying; it’s creative truth-bending to make your solo journey a little more special. Nobody needs another picture of a crowded site, anyway—give it a weird twist, and make it yours.

This approach can also be handy if you’re worried about getting pickpocketed. If people think you’re official enough to announce closures, they’re less likely to see you as a target. You’ve gone from tourist to “person of great llama census importance.” No one messes with census workers. Not even the llama kind.

Carry a Bag of Marbles: Because, Why Not?

Marbles are a tool of chaos, a conversation starter, and an emergency weapon, all rolled into one. Carry a bag of them in your backpack, and when things start feeling sketchy, just let a handful of marbles hit the ground. The clattering sound alone will cause any would-be troublemaker to rethink their life choices.

Nothing says “this person is too unpredictable” like someone who just randomly throws marbles on the ground. Imagine being a potential thief and watching your target dramatically drop marbles like it’s some medieval deterrent. You’d probably back off and decide to rob someone who isn’t potentially a wizard or a character from a children’s novel.

Marbles also work wonders as a distraction technique. Feeling like someone’s staring too much at your bag? Casually reach in and start fiddling with your marbles. Let them catch a glimpse. They’ll be too busy wondering what you’re doing to focus on anything else. Are you performing magic? Are you just that quirky? The possibilities are endless.

Want to make friends? Challenge someone to a game of marbles in a public park. But don’t explain the rules—make up a new set of rules that don’t make any sense. Insist that the game is a cultural tradition from your hometown and that it’s incredibly offensive to lose on purpose. Not only does this make you seem mysterious, but it’ll also ensure that only the most adventurous of people hang around to chat.

Marbles are also handy for impromptu art installations. Arrange them in intricate patterns on the ground and pretend you’re a traveling artist. Sell the concept as “ephemeral art reflecting the transient nature of existence.” People eat that stuff up, especially in Europe.

And if you’re truly feeling unsafe, marbles can actually be useful. Throw a handful down in front of someone’s feet and watch them do a comedic scramble to stay upright. It might seem silly, but nothing stops a potential mugging like suddenly needing to focus all your attention on not falling over.

Keep a bag of marbles in your pocket as well. Not for safety, just because it’ll make you jingle when you walk. People love mysterious jingling noises. It’s like ASMR but for the street. If someone asks why you’re jingling, just wink and say, “You’ll find out soon enough.” They’ll leave you alone. Guaranteed.

And let’s not forget the social implications. People who carry marbles are not to be messed with. You can drop them, throw them, juggle them, or simply smile as you roll one between your fingers. The world is your marble-filled oyster.

Become the Self-Appointed Mayor of a Random Block

Self-appointed titles are the best kind of titles, especially when they come with zero responsibilities and maximum absurdity. Pick a block in whatever city you’re in, and declare yourself the mayor. Introduce yourself to random strangers and tell them you’re overseeing the day-to-day activities of the neighborhood.

Get yourself a sash that says “MAYOR.” Make it out of whatever materials you have on hand: a scarf, a bed sheet, or even a strip of cardboard. People respect sashes—they indicate authority. And if someone questions your legitimacy, tell them the last mayor was impeached for unspeakable crimes involving yogurt. No one will dare question it.

Have a clipboard on you at all times. Make notes about completely pointless things—how many pigeons you see, how many people are wearing red shoes, how long it takes for a random stranger to smile back at you. This is data collection for the good of the block, after all. People trust a man with a clipboard, and they definitely trust one with a sash.

Every once in a while, stage a “press conference.” Stand on a bench, gather whoever will listen, and announce random findings, like the increase in squirrel sightings or the alarming lack of street performers in the area. No one wants to mess with the person who not only thinks they’re the mayor but also takes it seriously.

Once you’re the mayor, start giving out imaginary fines. If someone’s littering, inform them politely that they’ll be receiving a “Mayor’s Citation.” Scribble something down on a piece of paper and hand it to them. Most people will just take it and walk away, completely confused and not wanting any trouble.

Introduce new local laws. Inform passersby that on “your block,” it’s customary to high-five every third person they see. Explain that it’s for community bonding. Whether they comply or not doesn’t matter; what matters is that people see you as an enforcer of obscure laws. Enforcers are not easy targets.

You can even start a block party—just start clapping loudly, announcing that it’s “community dancing hour.” Some people will join in, most will ignore you, but either way, you’ve carved out your own space in the world. And what pickpocket wants to risk going after someone who might suddenly declare a public limbo contest?

And don’t forget to have an official mayoral salute. Something ridiculous like touching your nose, then your knee, then giving a thumbs up. Do this to random people, and they’ll probably do it back out of sheer confusion. Suddenly, you’re part of an underground movement, and everyone knows you don’t mess with the person who invented the secret handshake.

Wear a Cape, But Not the Cool Kind

Wearing a cape is a power move. But it’s important not to look too cool—you want a cape that makes people question every decision you’ve ever made. A tablecloth, a shower curtain, or even a giant trash bag will do. The goal is not to look heroic; it’s to look like someone who thought wearing a cape was a good idea but doesn’t have the self-awareness to realize it’s not.

A cape that doesn’t fit right or keeps getting caught on things is perfect. It says, “I’m unpredictable, and I also might be one snap away from using this cape as a weapon.” And if someone asks why you’re wearing a cape, just say, “I’m ready for anything.” No further explanation required.

Wear your cape to breakfast. Wear it while sitting alone at a park. Make sure people see you struggling with it—getting it caught in doorways, accidentally sitting on it, or even tripping over it. You’ll seem like someone who’s too much trouble to mess with. After all, what kind of person wears a cape that keeps trying to kill them? An unhinged one, that’s who.

If you’re really committed, make a big show of taking off your cape before doing something mundane, like buying a coffee. Whisper to the barista, “Hold this; it’s important.” They’ll hold it, because honestly, what else are they supposed to do? Then, when you’re done, tie it back on with unnecessary flair.

If you find yourself in an uncomfortable social situation, just dramatically swoosh your cape and leave. It’s the ultimate exit strategy. There’s nothing more confusing than someone deciding they’ve had enough of the conversation and leaving in a swirl of tablecloth-cape. It’s confusing, memorable, and effective.

The beauty of a cape is in the drama. Use it to accentuate every mundane action. Need to get a pen out of your bag? Swish your cape back before reaching for it. Want to take a sip of your water bottle? Throw the cape back over your shoulder. The more drama, the less approachable you become.

Wear your cape like you’re expecting an imminent superhero task. Stand on street corners with your hands on your hips, staring off into the distance. Occasionally shout, “Not today!” to no one in particular. People will avoid you. No one wants to mess with a wannabe superhero who’s also possibly delusional.

And let’s be honest: if anyone does try to mess with you, you can just throw the cape over their face. It’s a built-in escape strategy. If nothing else, you’ll confuse them long enough to make your getaway.

Conclusion: Talk to Weirdos, Avoid Hitchhiking Raccoons

Solo travel doesn’t have to be serious or even sensible. It’s about embracing the absurd, creating your own rules, and keeping everyone—including yourself—guessing. Befriend goats, make up languages, give statues names, and start your own fake cult. As long as you’re unpredictable, you’ll be interesting—and most importantly, safe. Just remember, the only thing you really need to fear is the raccoon trying to sell you directions.