Spreadsheets, planning, and the quiet courage to go anyway

I leave for Europe in a few days, and I can feel it already—the familiar mix of excitement and nerves that shows up before every trip. I’ve barely been home two months since returning from Southeast Asia, and still, the same question lingers: why does leaving never get easier?

That feeling—familiar but still unsettling—is what I want to write about today.

Fear.

I’ve been traveling solo for a few years now. Sometimes fully on my own, sometimes meeting friends or family, and sometimes joining a group tour. On this trip, I’ll start in Madrid with my sister, then head to Florence and Tuscany for a couple of weeks. After she leaves, I’ll continue on my own to Marseille and through Provence, where I’ll meet my cousin and a friend who both live there.

Am I nervous? Yes. I always am, just before a trip—and I’ve learned to accept that as part of how I travel.

It isn’t the logistics of leaving home—mail, household details, all the practical pieces. Those feel known and manageable. What still gives me pause is arriving somewhere new and navigating it on my own.

If you’ve ever wondered whether the nerves are supposed to disappear with experience, you’re not alone. For me, they haven’t. And over time, I’ve stopped seeing that as a problem. The unease is familiar now—and in some ways, useful. It reminds me to travel thoughtfully, in ways that feel right for me.

So, what do I do about it?

I plan. And I make spreadsheets. Yes—you heard me. Spreadsheets calm me down. I note transfers, bookings, and backup options. Addresses and phone numbers. I print out a list of my hotels and cut them up so I can easily hand them to a driver. It might sound excessive, but it works for me.

One of my biggest sources of anxiety is transfers. Will I find a cab? Will I get overcharged? Should I take an Uber, if that’s an option? So, I start there. I research typical taxi costs and where to find official taxi queues. I ask my hotels what they recommend. I tend to stay in four-star hotels, and nearly all of them can arrange transfers. Sometimes the price is higher than I’d like, but the peace of mind is often worth it.

I give myself time to sort through these options, and by about two weeks before departure, I usually have everything lined up. Some transfers are arranged through hotels, some through an Airbnb, some via Uber, and some involve simply knowing what to expect when I arrive. Just having a plan makes everything feel more manageable.

Once that’s settled, a different question comes up: do I want to schedule anything during the solo portions of my trip?

By then, I usually have a sense of the pace I want—how social or how quiet my days will be. I look through TripAdvisor and Viator, along with a few tour companies I trust, and see what fits without overfilling my schedule.

When I arrive in Aix, my first solo stop, I decide I’d like a gentle, food-focused introduction to the city, so I book a small group market tour for my first day.

I also want to visit Cassis, but I won’t have a car. While I could navigate public transportation, it feels like something I’d enjoy more as part of a group. I find a reasonably priced tour that includes time in Cassis and an optional boat ride into the calanques. It’s fully refundable, so I book it.

From Arles, I plan a visit to the Camargue and book a small group tour for that as well. I always look for small groups, strong reviews, and flexible cancellation terms—because I might change my mind. That flexibility matters to me, and it’s one of the reasons I like booking through platforms like TripAdvisor or Viator.

By this point, the nerves have quieted, and I can turn my attention to packing—and my ongoing effort to pack less. I now travel carry-on only, though I still manage to fit quite a lot into that bag. I’m working on it.

And of course, I’m still rethinking a few plans, exploring other options, and keeping track of cancellation dates for anything I’m unsure about. That flexibility is part of how I stay calm. One of the true gifts of traveling solo is that I don’t need to explain or justify those changes to anyone else. I can book, cancel, or rebook exactly as it suits me.

As I finish this, two days before departure, the nerves are still there—but quieter now. Balanced by preparation, and by the comfort of knowing I’ve done this before.

Fear doesn’t disappear just because we gain experience. For me, it still shows up every time. But I’ve learned I don’t need to eliminate it to keep going. I just need to understand it, plan around it, and go anyway.

That, too, is confidence.

If any of this sounds familiar, I hope it’s a reminder that you don’t need to travel solo fearlessly—you just need to travel in ways that feel right for you.

I would love to hear from you. Please email me at latebloomtravel@gmail.com and tell me about your solo travel adventures, plans or fears.

Au revoir for now. I’ll post again when I return.