You can count on the group chat for almost anything—except actual group travel plans. So I finally gave up, booked a trip to Scotland solo-ish, and let Contiki do the rest.
The Group Chat Was Great—Until It Wasn’t
It started like all our best conversations do: someone tossing out a dreamy idea about a European getaway in the dead of winter. Hype built fast. We were all in, at least until reality hit. Half of us were pregnant, buried in work, or doing grown-up things like homeownership and PTO math.
So, I had two choices. Wait around for the stars to align—or just go.
Turns out, the group chat can help you stalk a man from Hinge in 11 minutes flat, but can’t commit to a weekend in Edinburgh six months out. And that’s fine. Truly. I wasn’t mad. I just needed a way to get out of town that didn’t require me to become a logistics manager or suddenly grow the confidence of a seasoned backpacker. Enter: Contiki.
So, What Even Is Contiki?
Think of it as adult training wheels for international travel. That’s not a dig—it’s the best thing that’s happened to me since dry shampoo.
Contiki handles pretty much everything, including:
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Pre-planned itineraries packed with must-see sights and hidden gems
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Cozy, well-located hotels and transportation between cities
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A Trip Manager who somehow knows every secret pub and photo stop
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A built-in crew of other travelers your age, from all over the globe
They take the “should we book the loch cruise or museum first?” debates out of the equation entirely. And yes, breakfast is included almost every day, which, honestly, was the glue holding me together before those long coach rides.
I booked their “Scotland in a Week” trip. Seven days, three cities, countless lochs, zero moments of “what do we even do today?”
Planning? Not This Time, Babe
Let’s be real. Planning a solo trip sounds romantic until you’re three days out and realize you never figured out how to get from the airport to your hotel.
My past attempts at self-planned travel have ended in disaster: scams, wrong turns, and one very questionable Airbnb that had more stray cats than actual furniture. This time, I was done being the human TripAdvisor.
With Contiki, all I had to do was book a flight and show up. Everything else—accommodations, meals, transport, activities—was handled. I didn’t even need to Google “things to do in Scotland.” It was already sorted.
Here’s what that week actually looked like:
| Day | Location | Highlight |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Edinburgh | Group welcome dinner + ghost tour |
| 2 | Edinburgh | Arthur’s Seat hike + Victoria Street stroll |
| 3 | Scottish Highlands | Scenic drive + Glencoe Valley views |
| 4 | Loch Ness | Boat ride + coo-spotting |
| 5 | Inverness | Pub night + ceilidh dancing |
| 6 | Glasgow | Street art tour + whiskey tasting |
| 7 | Glasgow | Emotional goodbyes + potato scone breakfast |
One sentence? Worth every penny.
I Came Solo. I Left With Fries and Friends.
I’ll admit, I was nervous. Walking into that first dinner in Edinburgh felt like freshman orientation meets blind date. What if I didn’t vibe with anyone? What if it was just me, awkwardly sipping my Irn-Bru in silence?
But by Day 2, I was yelling “YAAAAS” from the top of Arthur’s Seat with two Canadians, an Aussie, and someone who turned out to be my Contiki soulmate. Our bond formed fast and weird. It always does when you’re crammed on a coach, deliriously singing The Proclaimers at 8 a.m., high on sleep deprivation and Scottish air.
One night in Glasgow, I ordered a salad. Dumb move. Sarah across the table looked at me, laughed, and said, “I got fries. I knew you’d regret that. Let’s share.” And that’s when I knew—I’d made a friend who got me.
Efficiency Meets Existential Breakthrough
This trip changed the way I think about travel. Not in a “found myself on a mountaintop” kind of way. More like, I realized I don’t need to prove anything by roughing it or planning every second myself.
I could finally breathe. I didn’t miss out on must-see spots because I forgot to book in advance. I didn’t stress over bus schedules or where to find dinner after dark. I had time to be present, soak in the scenery, and just… exist.
One-sentence paragraph coming in hot.
I think I needed that more than I realized.
And look, I still got my share of freedom. No one was holding my hand. I chose when to socialize and when to slip away with my AirPods and journal. That balance? Golden.
Would I Do It Again? Try and Stop Me
There’s a myth that group travel means rigid schedules, bad food, and forced small talk. But that wasn’t this.
This was sunset over Loch Lomond with strangers who started feeling like family. This was dancing in worn-in hiking boots in a Highlands pub that smelled like malt and rain. This was staring out a coach window, watching fog roll over green hills, thinking, “Yeah, I did the right thing.”
I used to think solo travel had to mean solo everything. But this trip proved you can go it alone without going it lonely.
And the best part? I didn’t have to wait for anyone else’s schedule to open up. I just went.
