A Room Without a View

What My Inside Cabin Taught Me About Solo Space

If you'd told me a year ago that I’d willingly book an inside cabin on a cruise ship, I’d have laughed. I’ve always loved waking up to daylight across the sheets, the gentle movement of water just beyond the glass, and the morning ritual of stepping out onto a balcony with a coffee in hand. That view — that connection to the outside world — felt essential. Especially when travelling alone.

But this time, in the name of research (and a little curiosity), I decided to try something different. A room with no windows. No balcony. Just me, the quiet hum of the ship, and a small space to call my own.

I won’t pretend when I first entered my cabin the absence of natural light threw me a little. I always gravitate to look outwards. But something interesting happened over the days that followed. I slowed down. With fewer distractions and no temptation to sit and watch the world outside, I found myself doing something I rarely do when I travel: turning inward.

I slept better than I had in weeks. I read entire chapters instead of scrolling. I took long showers. I sat on the edge of the bed and let my mind wander. No schedule. No FOMO. Just stillness. 

It made me realise how much of my energy — especially when I’m travelling solo — goes into “doing.” Seeing, capturing, sharing, planning. But in that small, windowless room, I remembered how nourishing it can be to simply be. I didn’t miss the view as much as I thought I would. In fact, I started to feel a quiet kind of contentment — one that came not from what was outside, but from how at ease I felt on the inside.

There’s something about solo travel that teaches you to be comfortable in your own company. But this experience took it one step further. It reminded me that spaciousness isn’t always about square footage or scenic backdrops. Sometimes, it's about emotional space. The kind where you're not performing, not proving, not even planning — just resting in your own rhythm.

Of course, I won’t be giving up balconies forever (let’s not be silly). But I’ve come away with something just as valuable: a gentle reminder that joy doesn’t always require a view. Sometimes, it just needs a little quiet, a soft bed, and the courage to lean into the stillness.

If you're planning a solo trip soon, I gently challenge you to choose something slightly outside your comfort zone — you might just find a whole new kind of comfort waiting there.

Try This: A Gentle Prompt for Your Next Trip

If you're planning a solo trip soon, I gently challenge you to choose something just outside your comfort zone.

Maybe it’s a different type of accommodation. Maybe it’s staying off your phone for a day. Maybe it’s dining alone without a book or a phone as a buffer.

You might discover a whole new kind of comfort waiting there — not from the space around you, but from the space you create within.

Journaling Prompts: Reflecting on Your Solo Space

Whether you're already travelling or dreaming from home, these prompts are here to help you connect more deeply with your solo journey — wherever it's taking you.

• When do I feel most comfortable in my own company?

• What spaces (physical or emotional) help me feel safe, grounded, or at peace?

• Is there something I rely on when I travel — and what might happen if I let it go, just for a moment?

• What might I learn about myself in a smaller, quieter space?

• If I took a trip without the pressure to “see and do,” what would I want to feel instead? 

Take these with you — in your notebook, your thoughts, or your heart — and see what they open up. Solo travel isn’t always about where you go. Sometimes, it’s about the room you give yourself to grow.

So, are you ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime? The world is waiting for you, and I'm here to help you discover it. Join the Going Solo Facebook group and let's wander, connect, and grow—together.