In early 2024, I started getting antsy to go somewhere. I was burnt out, stressed, and felt like I had become the most serious and uptight version of myself. So naturally, I started planning a trip.

I landed on Portugal for the least exciting reason possible: it was the cheapest place I could fly over the next few months.

I tried to convince someone to come with me, but when I didn't get any takers, Portugal became my first real solo trip. I was equally nervous and excited about it—and had absolutely no idea how much I needed it.

Falling in Love with Lagos

My first stop was Lagos, a little beach town in the Algarve. The bus ride south from Lisbon took me through miles of rolling green countryside and as soon as we started winding through narrow streets lined with colorful stone buildings near the coast, I knew I was going to love it.

I checked into a tiny historic apartment overlooking the sea and spent my first evening wandering through town and down to the beach. It wasn't until the following morning that Lagos really got me.

I woke up early, made coffee, and watched the sunrise from my balcony before heading down to the beach for what I assumed would be a quick walk before breakfast. Several hours later, I still hadn't eaten breakfast. Once on the beach, I was captivated by the beauty, stillness, and peace around me. I remember closing my eyes while the sun beat on my face and the water lapped at my feet, thanking God for this trip. Eventually, I climbed the stairs toward the cliffs and noticed wooden boardwalks winding through the landscape. I decided to explore just a little farther, and then a little farther, and then a little farther.

Before long, I had abandoned the boardwalk entirely for dirt trails stretching out toward the edges of the rock. Over the next few hours, I hiked about four miles along the coast toward Ponta da Piedade. The cliffs were a vibrant, rusty orange, streaked with layers of different shades that showed their age. The water was a sparkling, brilliant blue. When I finally reached Ponta da Piedade, I descended yet another seemingly endless staircase into a rocky cove where small boats floated in the water below. At the bottom, an older Portuguese gentleman offered me a ride in one of the fishing boats. I negotiated a price to go out alone, climbed into a waiting boat with my local guide, and off we went.

For the next 45 minutes, he took me into the caves that dot the coastline, telling me facts about each and pointing out rock formations named for what they resembled, an elephant, a camel, even the Titanic. Along the way, he stopped to scoop a giant, vibrant orange starfish off one of the rocks. As I held it, it curled its tentacles around my fingers, reminding me that it is so much more beautiful in life than in an American's tacky bathroom decor. As we sped along the coast, the wind whipped through my hair, and I felt complete and pure joy.

The freedom the water and open sea brings is unmatched, and I will spend the rest of my life chasing that feeling.

Eventually, my accidental four-mile-before-breakfast adventure came to an end, and I wandered back into Lagos absolutely famished. I stopped at Coffee & Waves for an espresso and an açai bowl, where another adventure began.

While waiting for my order, I met a British woman named Vanita who struck up a conversation after hearing my American accent. We ended up talking for more than an hour, and before she left, she invited me to her beach house that evening. I knew immediately that I would go, mainly because it was so outside of my comfort zone and something that the Hannah I wanted to be would do. It was one of those completely random travel experiences you could never put on an itinerary, and one I never would have had if I hadn't been traveling alone.

The next morning brought another adventure: a sunrise paddleboarding tour from Praia Dona Ana. Our group pushed our boards into water so still it looked like glass and spent the next two hours paddling beneath the cliffs and into the caves I had explored from above the day before. By the time the rain started falling at the end of the tour, it was time to leave Lagos and head north to Lisbon.

Lisbon, The City of Stairs

My Airbnb in Lisbon was inside a stunning yellow historic building, with one balcony overlooking Praça Martim Moniz and another facing a street lined with buildings covered in colorful Portuguese tiles. From the back balcony, I could look across Lisbon's jumble of rooftops climbing the surrounding hills.

The next morning, I met a local photographer at the Arco da Rua Augusta and spent two quiet early-morning hours walking through Alfama. We stopped at viewpoints overlooking the terracotta rooftops and Tagus River, including Miradouro de Santa Luzia and Miradouro das Portas do Sol, before eventually finding Lisbon's iconic yellow Tram 28. Afterward, I wandered through Feira da Ladra, Lisbon's sprawling flea market, where I left carrying four Portuguese tiles. Finds in hand, I spent the rest of the morning exploring Alfama, walking along uneven sidewalks, climbing more hills and stairs than I could count, and stopping constantly to photograph my favorite tiled buildings.

That afternoon, I traded walking for a tuk-tuk. My driver was a fun, flirty Portuguese guy in his twenties who quickly decided I needed another introduction to Alfama. Near Lisbon Cathedral, he pointed toward the Church of Saint Anthony and told me about a traditional Portuguese game. In Portugal, Saint Anthony is known as the saint of lost things, but they also believe he is the saint of finding love. In the square outside the church stands a giant statue of him holding a Bible and according to the tradition, if you toss a coin toward the statue and it lands inside Saint Anthony's Bible, you'll find your one true love within a year. If it lands inside but bounces back out, you'll most certainly be alone for another year.

My guide asked me if I was ready to try, and I looked around. A crowd had gathered in the square and began encouraging me, eager to see the fate of my love life. The pressure was on.

He told me I had three tries as I took the first coin from him and looked up at the giant statue. Could I even throw that high?

So I tossed the coin towards the Bible in Saint Anthony's hand.

It felt like slow motion as the coin landed directly in the Bible without bouncing out.

The crowd went wild.

I am not kidding. People were cheering and high-fiving me in the middle of the square in a moment that felt straight out of a movie. I turned toward my guide, who was standing there speechless before finally saying, "No one's ever gotten it on the first try."

Triumphant, we climbed back into the tuk-tuk to head to our next stop.

The rest of the afternoon involved ginjinha served in a chocolate cup, my first warm pastéis de nata, more viewpoints over the city, and enough winding streets that I completely lost track of where we were. That evening, I boarded a sailboat on the Tagus and met two other women traveling alone. We spent most of the evening sitting together at the back of the boat, drinking Portuguese wine, eating charcuterie, and exchanging stories. As the sun went down, the lights of Lisbon began glowing against the deep blue sky while we sailed along the Tagus beneath the Ponte 25 de Abril and toward the Cristo Rei monument.

Strangers Who Became Friends

The following morning, I joined a small group heading to Sintra. On the ride there, I met three other women traveling solo. Despite coming from completely different places, the four of us clicked almost immediately.

Our first stop was Quinta da Regaleira, where we descended into the famous Initiation Well and wandered through the lush gardens and grounds. After touring Quinta da Regaleira, our guide drove us to a small village for lunch. And that lunch might be the moment when I most understood what I loved about Portugal.

We sat around a table eating course after course, passing food, pouring wine, exchanging stories, and laughing with people who had been complete strangers only a few hours earlier. There was nowhere else we needed to be and nothing to rush toward, just good food, wine, conversation, and time.

The rest of the afternoon took us to Praia da Adraga, where enormous waves crashed against the beach, and then to Cabo da Roca before one final overlook in the Sintra-Cascais landscape. We lingered there for a while, drinking, talking, and laughing before finally climbing back into the van for Lisbon. That evening, the girls invited me to meet them at their hostel before heading out for live music. We sang, danced, made new friends, and stayed out far later than I had planned. Another experience I never could have scheduled.

The Version of Me I Had Missed

I made no plans for my final day in Lisbon and instead wandered through the neighborhoods, buying pastéis de nata, exploring antique shops, and visiting the gardens of Palácio Fronteira. For my final night, I had dinner at A Nossa Casa. The restaurant was cozy, the staff warm and hospitable, and the sweet potato gnocchi was one of the best things I ate during the trip.

Somewhere between hiking alone along the cliffs of Lagos, climbing into a Portuguese fisherman's boat, accepting an invitation from a stranger, throwing a coin toward Saint Anthony, drinking wine around a table full of people I'd just met, and dancing with new friends in Lisbon, I remembered something about myself.

I'm fun. I'm spontaneous. I'm adventurous. I'm outgoing.

Those parts of me hadn't disappeared. They had just gotten buried somewhere beneath responsibility, demanding jobs, schedules, and the increasingly serious business of adulthood. Traveling Portugal brought them back to the surface.

Maybe the Portuguese are right. Maybe Saint Anthony really does help us find our one true love. After all, Portugal was where I learned to truly love myself.