While I have always loved traveling with my friends, there was something I had long admired about those who traveled alone. From the moment I set foot on my first international trip, I was never truly alone. I always had friends who lived in or were visiting the same countries I was traveling to. That gave me a sense of security, but there was always a quiet longing inside me to venture out on my own. I wanted to experience travel without anyone else’s input, to truly follow my own desires, and carve out a path that was uniquely mine.

When an extended block of time off from work came up, I knew it was time to embrace that longing. I threw a dart at a map, quite literally, and decided to take a solo vacation. For the first time, I would be choosing my own path—no timelines, no expectations, just me and the open world.

I had no clear destination in mind, but after some research, I stumbled upon Malta, a tiny island nestled in the Mediterranean between Italy and Libya. I’ll admit, I had never heard of Malta before booking the trip. But as I dug deeper into what the island had to offer, I was drawn to its unique charm.

Wine, street markets, museums, and the Mediterranean Sea—these were all the things I loved. The more I learned, the more excited I became, and before I knew it, I had an entire itinerary planned for my flight 7-day stay.
I booked myself into a deluxe room at a 4.5-star hotel in Sliema, wanting a peaceful and luxurious retreat. To my surprise, when I arrived, the hotel upgraded me to a junior suite for free, which pared well with the complimentary access to a spa throughout my stay. It felt like a gift from the universe, telling me that this was exactly where I was meant to be.

But the real transformation came when I decided to try scuba diving. As an amputee, I had always thought that scuba diving was something beyond my reach. But the idea of diving into the Mediterranean was too tempting to ignore, so I reached out a dive shop I sumbled across online [Divewise Malta] and asked if they could accommodate my needs. They assured me that everything could be arranged, and the excitement I felt about this new adventure was matched by a few nervous thoughts as well.

When I arrived at the dive shop, I was greeted with warmth and professionalism. My instructor was friendly and patient, and she made sure to go over every detail with me before we went into the water. I remember feeling a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepped my gear, and made sure everything was carefully thought through, from how to enter the water comfortably to making sure I had the support I needed during the dive.

The moment I took that first breath on the regulator, I knew I had made the right decision. There was a beautiful freedom in the way my body adjusted to the water, and I felt like I was becoming part of the ocean’s rhythm. The nerves melted away as I sank deeper into the sea, surrounded by the stunning marine life. It was a peaceful and surreal experience, one that made me feel at home in the water in a way I had never imagined. Every time I breathed in, the world above seemed to fade away, and all that mattered was the present moment.

The first dive was incredible, but when it ended, I was grateful to hear that we would be going for a second dive. By this point, I felt more confident, more comfortable in the water, and more attuned to the process. The underwater world was vast and mysterious, yet somehow familiar. It became a meditative space where all my thoughts quieted, and I could just be.

As much as I was captivated by the beauty of Malta and its waters, this trip was also a journey of personal growth. Traveling alone as a woman with a disability can feel daunting. There’s a quiet but constant awareness of the world around you, and I’ve often found that new environments bring out old fears. Would I be seen as different or even be excluded? I had experienced discrimination in the past because of my leg, and in new spaces, I sometimes felt the weight of being “the only one”—the only woman, the only Black person, the only person with a disability. And now, I was doing it alone.

The fear was there—at least at first—but I refused to let it take over. I chose to embrace this experience for what it was: a challenge, a chance to see just how far I could go on my own. I had learned over the years that the worst thing you can do is let fear hold you back, and this trip was my chance to prove that to myself.

One of the highlights came unexpectedly during a vintage bus tour to Mdina, Marsaxlokk, and San Anton Gardens. As I boarded the bus surrounded by families and couples, I felt a fleeting sense of loneliness. But when I sat down next to another Black woman who was also traveling solo, it felt like a sign. We struck up a conversation, and she shared her travel experiences with me. She had been to 27 countries, and hearing her talk about her adventures was both inspiring and comforting. We spent the rest of the day exploring the villages, enjoying each other’s company, and discussing our lives as solo travelers. Later, we both treated ourselves to a six-course dinner at the hotel’s Michelin restaurant.

By the end of my trip, I realized how much I had learned—not just about Malta, but about myself. I had navigated an entirely new country on my own, tried something I had never dreamed of, and pushed through fears I’d carried with me for years. I had been afraid to take that leap, but in the end, the experience was worth every moment of hesitation. I spent my days wandering, reflecting, and planning for the future. I made decisions without consulting anyone else, and there was something truly liberating about that.

Malta’s beauty and history left me awestruck, but it was the personal growth I experienced that made the trip unforgettable. From diving into the Mediterranean to confronting my fears, this journey taught me that I am capable of so much more than I ever thought. Traveling alone has shown me how powerful it can be to follow your own path and trust in yourself. The world is full of new experiences, and I’ve learned that the only limitations are the ones you place on yourself.