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When I decided to go to Europe, by myself, the day after my final high school exam, people were more than willing to share their opinions, their concerns, and their fears for me and my month-long sojourn into the unknown. What they were less interested in doing, was telling me that I would have a great time and wishing me well on my big trip. Nevermind, I thought, they're just looking out for me. However, as I sat on the train going under the English Channel en route to Brussels, my first, and only planned port of call, I realised a feeling known to many a first-time solo traveller...doubt. I doubted my ability to navigate, my ability to communicate, and my ability to be completely alone for one month. As I sat on the train I began to Google: Brussels safety, Brussels tourists, Brussels suburbs dangerous???? With every touch of the search button, I was falling further and further down a terrifying rabbit hole and the doubt was pouring in after, drowning me. Every pickpocketing, every rude server, every uneven cobblestone in the city had been documented. Needless to say, when I got off the train at Midi Zuid, I was petrified. Every person who looked at me I was sure was going to run at me with a knife. Too scared to even stop to buy a train ticket, I walked out of the station into the rain. The pouring, winter, ice rain. And I looked down and I did not look up from my Maps until I got to my hostel, where, jetlagged and scared, I curled up in a ball and went to sleep. They say that everything looks better in daylight. And in the case of Brussels, this is true. I stepped out of my hostel and onto Grand Place de Bruxelles, surveying all that I had missed the day before. I joined a walking tour which left from that very square and learnt all about the storied past of the square, and the city. I looked up at the buildings, a mix of austere grey stone and frivolous adornments. And then I kept looking up. I spent 36 hours on a diet of fries (get them with mayonnaise and eat them hot so they burn your mouth), coffee, and weirdly porridge-because if you have the opportunity to make like a Bruxelloise of yesteryear and eat porridge in Les Galeries Royales de Saint-Hubert then you should. I saw the Manneken Pis, visited the Magritte Museum, the Royal Museums of Fine Arts, and the Brussels City Museum (I'm a museums girl if you hadn't guessed). And then I stopped for the night and realised I hadn't been stabbed, or kidnapped, or had bad service at any of the fry stands I had sampled. So, the next morning I got braver. I put my phone in my bag, which was not easily accessible because it was under my coat on the advice of a well-meaning "wellwisher", and got lost for the day. I ducked in and out of churches, parks, I sought shelter under the eves of various grand buildings during the intermittent rain. I saw a horse parade outside the palace and I'm 98% sure I saw King Phillipe and I walked inside the Palais de Justice, only to realise it wasn't the EU Headquarters as I'd thought. I ate more fries and meandered the beginnings of a Christmas Market in le Grand Place. The only thing that spooked me was a live nativity donkey that briefly got loose. And I didn't miss my map one bit, I only wish I'd looked occasionally to check the names of places I visited. Solo travel has risks, there is no question. But it also has massive benefits- I couldn't have wandered aimlessly as I did with another person in tow, and I would have had to share my fries. People will tell anyone who will listen about the risks, but it's up to you to seek the benefits. So say to yourself what no one else will say to you- "you'll have an amazing time!" and I have no doubt you will make it so.