Want to travel on a budget? Backpacking is the way to go! The world is full of kind people and safer than we often think. But don’t repeat my mistakes. I’m sharing one of my toughest nights on the road and how you can stay smarter and safer while traveling.
In my twenties, like so many others, I was scraping by—but my passion for travel was undeniable. So, I dove headfirst into the classic backpacker lifestyle. I spent months without a flight home, constantly on the move, never knowing where I’d land next. I thrived on the thrill of spontaneous adventures, hopping between countries with little more than a backpack and an open mind. Accommodation? Usually, it was the cheapest hostel I could find. Sometimes, I’d trade photography or marketing work for free stays or tours. This was over a decade ago, before influencer culture took over the travel world. The journey was raw, unfiltered, and full of excitement.
Most of the time, this worked out fine. I was traveling through Central America, and there was always a sense of camaraderie among fellow travelers, especially because there were less resources back then.
After two weeks in Cuba, where Wi-Fi and air conditioning were luxuries, I was ready for a little comfort in Cancun. At the airport, I asked for directions to the taxi stand, and when the woman asked where I was staying, I told her I hadn’t figured it out yet. She smiled, warned me it was peak season, and said finding a room might be tricky.
If you want to travel but don’t have a big budget, backpacking is an amazing way to go. The world is full of kind people and is often safer than we think. But don’t make the same mistakes I did. I’m going to share with you one of the worst nights of my travels and how you can be safer and smarter on the road.
Safety Lessons I Learned As a Solo Female Traveler
Lesson #1: Book your accommodation before you leave save yourself some stress and keep yourself safe
I was a confident traveler. I’d proven time and again that I could get myself out of tough spots, find accommodation, manage my budget, and stay safe. Cancun seemed like it would be no different. And it wasn’t—except I got unlucky and, as you’ll read, second-guessed my instincts.
After a few phone calls, the kind lady at the airport found me a cheap hotel room—still a bit out of my backpacker budget. I stayed one night before quickly booking a hostel for the next few days. But when I arrived to check in, they told me they were full. The booking system had messed up, but they offered me an “upgrade” to a small apartment down the street.
Relieved after two weeks without air conditioning or Wi-Fi, the idea of a private space felt like luxury. But soon, everything went wrong.
In the middle of the night, the power went out. No Wi-Fi. No air conditioning. I felt a sense of unease, a kind of dread I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t sleep because it was sweltering, but my gut told me not to open the window. Something didn’t feel right. Without a SIM card, I couldn’t reach anyone—not even the hostel.
Lesson #2: Always have the ability to make a phone call independent of wifi.
You can get cheap local SIM cards each place you visit, and they are often available at the airport. You can also prepay for e-SIM cards like Airalo. Now I use an international plan with Verizon, and while it’s expensive, I have yet to go to a country where I didn’t have good service.
The next morning, after the power was restored, I grabbed my backpack and rushed to the hostel for Wi-Fi. As I opened the door to the apartment, a man stood outside the iron gate blocking him from the apartments. He spoke quickly in Spanish, and though I didn’t catch everything, I understood he was from the electric company. He led me to the circuit box and pointed out that only one unit had power—mine. He asked me to go inside and make sure everything was powered off. I considered ignoring his request, but when I glanced back, his face was pressed against the gate, watching me.
He thanked me and left. I walked to the hostel, but soon realized I’d forgotten my computer in the apartment. When I returned, the gate was wide open. The door to my room was ajar, the handle broken. Inside, my heart sank. All my belongings—my dive gear, camera, laptop—were gone. Only my dirty clothes remained.
I walked to the hostel feeling sick, alone, and scared. This wasn’t just about stolen things; it was everything I had worked for, including the small inheritance from my mom’s death—just gone. I tried explaining to the hostel staff, but my Spanish wasn’t fluent enough to really be understood.
I called the woman who’d helped book the hotel, but she only texted back saying she’d call later. Desperate, I called another contact in Mexico—a guy who’d given me his number, offering to take me on a date. Not ideal, but better than nothing. He showed up, but he made me really uncomfortable. He said we needed to return to the apartment to check for anything left behind. I agreed, but as we drove with music blaring, I realized we were headed in the opposite direction. When I questioned him, he claimed it was a “shortcut.” I screamed for him to turn around, and he finally did, taking me back to the apartment where, thankfully, my passport was still there.
I had my passport, but no working phone, charger, or money. The creepy guy took me to the police station, where he helped translate for a few minutes before leaving me alone with officers who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—help. Three hours later, I had a police report. I called the American embassy, but no one answered, and the officer wouldn’t let me make any more calls. I asked for a ride back to the hostel, but both officers said no.
Lesson #3: Have the emergency phone number for your country’s embassy written and stored in multiple places.
I was stranded at 10:30pm, no idea where I was and no money. I opened up my empty backpack searching for any change I may have carelessly thrown in. I found 40 pesos—less than $2. I stopped taxi after taxi, showing them my money, but they all refused to take me. Finally, one driver agreed to drive me back to the hostel. When we arrived, as I handed him the 40 pesos, he didn’t reach for the money, instead his hand slid up my inner thigh. Panic flooded me. I screamed, fumbled to unlock the door, and bolted out of the car, running into the relative safety of the hostel.
The next day, the kind woman from the airport came to check on me. She took me to a 7-Eleven and bought me a phone charger. I still think of her sometimes and wish I knew how to contact her and say thank you. With the hostel Wi-Fi, I called my dad, who immediately booked me a flight home. The next morning, I walked to the airport, and for the first time in six months, I went home.
Lesson #4: Kind people are everywhere, but don’t trust just anyone.
I felt completely vulnerable in that moment, with no choice but to stay in the apartment, turn off the lights, and get into that car. While there are genuinely kind and amazing people, like the woman from the airport, it’s important not to rely too heavily on the kindness of strangers. Trusting that everything will work out without taking basic precautions is both irresponsible and selfish.
Looking back, that day remains one of the darkest moments of my travels—but it also taught me lessons I’ll never forget: trust your gut, plan ahead, get a SIM card, and always have a backup plan. Solo travel is freeing, but it’s also essential to stay grounded, stay connected, and stay smart.
That night changed how I approach travel. It wasn’t just about stolen possessions or hours spent in confusion and fear; it was realizing that no adventure is worth risking your safety. Sometimes, it’s okay to admit when things go wrong.
When I got home and replaced my computer, I founded The Solo Female Traveler Network—an empowering Facebook community for women to protect, support, and share our travel experiences.
Today, we offer incredible tours to destinations once seen as less safe for women. The friendships and memories made on these tours are priceless, built on trust and shared experiences. What began as a response to my own vulnerability has grown into a global network of women who cheer each other on and lift each other up. Every journey we take reminds us that we’re stronger together. Through The Solo Female Traveler Network, we’re rewriting the narrative of solo travel into one of courage, connection, and empowerment.
For years, I reflected on that trip—wondering what might’ve been different if I’d made other choices: booked my accommodation, left the light on, remembered my computer, told that man to f*ck off, had the right number for the embassy, kept spare money in my bag… The list goes on. But I also learned one final lesson.
Lesson #5: Be kind to yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone is just trying to figure it out.
I was a young woman riddled with grief from the loss of my mom, overwhelmed with the excitement of living out my travel dreams, and trying my absolute best to not go destitute in the process.
The most important lesson of all is that it’s okay to make mistakes, but it’s just as crucial to learn from them and not be too hard on yourself. Solo travel is about growth—both in the world and within yourself. So, whether you’re exploring the world on a budget, chasing new experiences, or simply looking to escape for a while, remember: your safety comes first, but the kindness you offer yourself along the way is just as essential. Keep learning, keep growing, and above all, keep adventuring—safely and smartly.
