I traveled solo to Portugal to go surfing and drink wine
words by: Briona Lamback
I landed in Lagos on my second day in Portugal. No, not that Lagos— I thought so, too. Lagos is a famous town in Portugal’s southern region. It was my first summer in Europe. I’d lived in London twice and backpacked around Europe aplenty. But this was different. I’ve always wanted to frolic around Europe, drinking wine, being topless at the beach, and fully diving into my traveling auntie vibes.
So I did it. I booked a flight from London to Faro, Portugal. I only stayed in Faro one night because there wasn’t much to do except go to the beach. I headed to Lagos the next day for some sun, sand, and sangria—the best things about this part of the world. I called an Uber from the airport to take me to my beach house-style hostel where I’d be spending this solo trip.
I hopped out of the car like a fresh prince and waved ‘thank you to the driver. I walked up to the front only to find a sign that directed travelers arriving after dark to check in through the back door. So I tipped towed down the cobble steps, through the open-air terrace, and past the swinging hammock— ahh, hostel life. The front desk lady checked me in, and I tipped-toed through the dark into the dorm room I rented for $20/night.
By morning, I indulged in a pancake breakfast while waiting for the day’s surfing trip to start. We all hopped in one of those retro Volkswagens and headed towards the beach. This part of Portugal is known for surfing, so that’s exactly what I came to do. I’d never surfed before, and as we warmed up with a few stretches, the instructor asked everyone if they currently worked out. Truthfully, I haven’t worked it on in years, and the former athlete inside me screams every time this question is asked. I said, “I used to,” while everyone else said they hit the gym regularly.
Me posing with my surfboard like I did something.
When it came time to take our warm-ups to the water, it was evident that I hadn’t seen the inside of a gym since college. Wave after wave, I found myself getting knocked off the board in halfway attempts to surf. By the end, all I had was chipped white toes and sore muscles to show for the surfing experience. But it was awesome. I enjoyed every moment of uncertainty and each droplet of water trapped in my ear because I was solo traveling in Portugal and trying new things.
It felt good.
The rest of my time here was spent lazying around my hostel, going to the beach, and eating. TBH, I came here to surf, eat, and drink wine. Solo traveling is one of the most freeing experiences. You eat by yourself, drink by yourself and go surfing alone too. Ultimately, I always realize that I feel a tad closer to myself and more sure of my future after reflecting on my solo travels.
All I know is that some magical self-love sorcery happens when you see this world through your lens.
In other words, BOOK THAT TRIP.
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