There’s a quiet luxury in carving out “me time” on a solo trip: mornings unhurried, maps folded and discarded, afternoons open to whatever mood or weather dictates, and evenings spent savoring a single table for one while watching the city’s light pulse. Traveling alone sharpens the senses — every choice is yours, every detour a small act of self-reclamation — and the solitude becomes a palate cleanser, revealing what you truly enjoy, what you can let go of, and how richly simple time can restore you.