Epilepsy, Prejudice, Anxiety: Nothing Held Me Back From Solo Travel

Travel has been my greatest teacher. It has given me freedom, friendships, and unforgettable lessons, many of them learned at airports and immigration counters. For every exhilarating adventure, there has been a moment of apprehension. For every warm welcome, there has been a cold stare that reminded me that travel is not only about places, but about the thresholds we cross to reach them.

The places that tested, the places that taught

One of the most unforgettable moments happened while flying over Jordan. Mid-flight, the cabin lights were suddenly switched off. Passengers looked around nervously, whispers rippled through the cabin, and even the crew seemed tense. Only later did I learn that we had entered airspace close to a conflict zone, and the darkness was to keep us safe from being mistaken for a target. It was a chilling reminder that travel is never guaranteed, that the skies we take for granted carry risks we rarely think about.

Landing in Morocco was an entirely different story, one filled with warmth and discovery. I fell in love with the richness of the culture, the generosity of its hospitality, and the vibrancy of its streets. Yet my first impression of immigration was tainted when the officer looked at me and asked bluntly, “How come, at your age, you travel alone? Why do you not have a husband?” The words cut more deeply than I expected. They were not about security but about disbelief that a woman could wander the world on her own terms.

I heard the same questions in Oman, delivered more politely but carrying the same weight. In Albania, it was not words but tone. The officer flipped through my passport slowly, stared at me coldly, and spoke rudely. It was unsettling, not because of what was said, but because immigration is always the first impression of a country, the very first face that sets the tone of a journey.

Yet for every difficult border, some countries greet you with warmth and kindness right from the first interaction. In Russia, the officer smiled and welcomed me, easing my nervousness. In North Macedonia, people went out of their way to help me navigate the city, even when we did not share a language. In Japan and South Korea, I was struck by the respect, politeness, and genuine eagerness of people to help me feel at home. Those first few minutes, those gestures of kindness and inclusion, encouraged me to embrace the culture more deeply. They proved that the first impression at the border can shape your entire journey.

New York City is another memory etched in my mind. I arrived in tears, just as the city was being called the epicentre of COVID. Airports were tense, media headlines were alarming, and I felt completely overwhelmed. A few police officers reassured me not to be shaken by the news: “New York has been through a lot. We are fine.” Their calmness grounded me.

I ended up staying with a friend I had studied with in the city, someone I had not planned to stay with, but having his support made a huge difference. He helped me navigate the uncertainty and gave me comfort when the world outside felt chaotic. Eventually, I was evacuated back to India, but that experience reminded me how human kindness, from strangers or friends, can transform fear into confidence.

The healing power of travel

Perhaps I travel with a deeper sense of purpose because of where my journey began. At seven months old, a brain injury changed my life. Misdiagnosed for years, I lived with confusion until finally being diagnosed with epilepsy at fourteen. After multiple medications, brain surgery gave me freedom.

I still remember sitting in my neurosurgeon’s office and seeing a massive world map on the wall with pins marking his travels. That map sparked a dream to see the world, to understand lives beyond my own, and to pursue a career in psychology that would take me across continents, helping children and adults navigate mental health challenges.

Travel does more than satisfy my curiosity. As a psychologist, the stories I hear, the traumas I witness, and the struggles people face can be heavy. Travelling allows me to step away, gain perspective, and restore my energy. It teaches me empathy, patience, and resilience, lessons I bring back into my work, helping me support clients with clarity and compassion. Each journey is a reminder that coping with the challenges of life and helping others do the same often begins with seeing the world from a new angle.

This year, I turned thirty and celebrated by visiting my thirtieth country. People often assume I must have a non-Indian passport, but the truth is the world has changed. With e-visas and smart planning, borders are far more open than many imagine. My mantra has become: travel smart, not hard.

Borders will always test us. Some with suspicion, others with kindness. Some with sexism, others with respect. But beyond those counters and stamps lies the true heart of travel, the people, the cultures, and the small moments of humanity that stay with you long after you have boarded your flight home. For me, every stamp in my passport is not just an entry; it is a story, a threshold crossed, and a reminder that even after epilepsy, fear, or prejudice, I can keep moving forward and help others do the same.

Authored by Ankita Guchait. Views expressed by the author are their own.