Chelsia Durkee, copywriter & creative

In May 2024, I arrived at my final destination of my two-month long solo adventure: Prague. It was the perfect pinnacle to my European eat-pray-love journey, a true fairytale city both aesthetically and viscerally. Prague is famed for its many bridges–and the most renowned bridge, St. Charles–is adorned with stern, yet regal statues of saints.

As I walked towards the bridge, I felt transfixed by the gargoyle-like statues lining both sides. I meandered slowly, letting the sun nourish my face. My temporary companion loneliness, which had remained stubbornly at my side–an ingrown ingrown hair that refused to be tamed–began to dissipate.

I smelled the intoxicating scent of espresso and the sweet, cinnamon dough of the Trdelnik wafting from the shopkeepers’ windows. Every few steps, I grazed the walls of the bridge, feeling the solid surface through my fingertips.

Below, the throngs of tourists boarded double-decker cruise ships. Their figures and movements fascinated me–it was like zooming out of a microscope, their shadows made prominent in miniature form.

As I crossed this bridge into foreign territory, the hustle and bustle of the city beckoned me to play. I was far away from home, but far from lonely. As I navigated my way along the pathway of boundaries and self-esteem, my muscles relaxed and my breathing slowed down. It was as if the fruit fell from the tree, and I didn’t feel the need to pick it back up. I spent my life clinging onto the notion that I needed someone to validate my decisions.

I elevated strangers into Gods–and I was a pious student. Every minuet choice, from what I wore to what I ate, was regulated and controlled in a test tube, but the environment wasn’t sterile.

These past few years were permeated with grief and heartbreak. I blamed so many people and places of my past, and tore myself apart by my own alter ego.

With each worn cobblestoned step, I saw myself on the other side. I observed her comfort in her own skin. I saw a future where I didn’t pray to mere mortals. I was worn and wiser and astute. I enforced boundaries imperfectly, but abided by her internal compass nonetheless, because I trusted my own judgment. I didn’t elevate others, or at least didn’t sit down as eagerly at the church of Projection.

In broad daylight, St. Charles’ solid and stony gray fortitude unearthed.

My solo journey revealed that I can overcome any obstacle. Not to withdraw from experiences with cynicism, but to hold them with compassion.

I noticed the face of the clock was marked in red tape, forming an X shape. It was under construction, but its beauty hadn’t faded.

It caught my attention, a timeless monument, its hands ticking to the rhythm of the city.

From left to right:
Views from St. Charles Bridge, my first Czech beer, smiling with Goulash and bread dumplings, traditional breakfast of bread, egg, cheese, radish, and meat, and Trdelnik aka “chimney cake”

What’s something surprising you learned about yourself during your travels—solo or otherwise? I would love to hear about it in the comments below!

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XOXO,

Chelsia