They say the third time’s a charm. Three times I’ve flown to Manila, three times I’ve been on the airplane alone, not exactly sure what’s waiting for me on the other side. But the anticipation that builds up inside as the plane descends and suddenly bumps you out of your seat upon touchdown is exactly the kind of kick I get out of flying alone; being on foreign land alone just opens up a completely new chapter in Adventure because you can’t exactly predict what new land is going to throw at you.

Three times I’ve flown solo to Manila and now decades later – I’m sitting a gate away from my Manila one 2 weeks ago – waiting for my virgin solo flight to Jakarta. The last time I was in Jakarta was when I was half my parents height and traveled for a much cheaper rate. Now, armed with my faithful gadgets, a vocabulary of Indonesian words that could probably get me safe to my destinations, and most importantly, a pocket full of hope, I’m venturing into unfamiliar territory yet again.

Opening yourself up to the unknown and learning to possibly trust the most unlikeliest of people is bound to teach you some sort of courage in life. Unfailingly, these solo journeys of mine have always been eye-opening. Not limited to the uncharted territories and its hidden gems, I’ve time and time again, uncovered a lot about the human race on my independent exploits.

Sometimes your faith gets restored, other times your already broken spirit gets another kick where it hurts the most. Nevertheless, both experiences make great stories.

As the plane descends and the pilot announces our arrival, my hands start to get clammy and my tummy is as though it’s practising for the gymnastics in the Olympics – this reaction whether from the fear of the unknown or as a result of the adrenalin rush I always get when I approach a new country, I’m sure this escapade will teach me yet another important lesson.