So there I was, standing in a Turkish hammam, wrapped in a slightly too-small towel, staring at a goat called Mehmet who looked disturbingly confident about what came next.
Welcome to my solo travel adventure at 58.
Yes, fifty-eight. Not thirty-eight, not twenty-eight. Not part of some glamorous “gap year” or Instagram-influencer journey. Just me, a sturdy suitcase with a wobbly wheel, three pairs of readers, and the sheer bloody-mindedness that comes with age, wisdom and a well-earned “why the hell not?” attitude.
Let’s rewind a bit.
✈️ Why I Decided to Travel Solo at 58
It all started with a flurry of WhatsApp messages from friends filled with wedding anniversaries, new grandbabies and photos of homemade sourdough. Meanwhile, I was Googling “how to open a wine bottle without a corkscrew” and yelling at Alexa for mispronouncing “Prosecco”.
I didn’t want to wait for someone else to be free, willing or interested. I wanted to do something just for me. I figured: if I can assemble IKEA furniture without a man (or, at least, without stabbing one), I can survive a solo trip abroad.
And besides, it’s not like I was completely alone. I had the internet, a travel insurance policy, and a very opinionated friend named Sheila who insisted on daily check-ins via WhatsApp, “in case you get abducted by pirates or join a cult”.
🧳 My Packing Strategy: Chaos with a Cardigan
Let’s talk packing. Now, I may be 58, but I still haven’t cracked the art of travelling light. I brought:
- 14 pairs of knickers (for a 7-day trip),
- 3 hats (none of which I wore),
- and an emergency poncho (which I definitely didn’t need in the Turkish sunshine, but it made me feel prepared).
I forgot tweezers, of course. Which became problematic around Day 3 when my chin started developing what I can only describe as a single, rogue tusk.
Pro tip: when solo travelling at our age, always pack a magnifying mirror and a sense of humour.
🧭 Arrival in Turkey: Confidently Clueless
Turkey is beautiful. The people are warm, the food is divine, and the weather is so good I briefly considered moving just so my joints would stop sounding like castanets.
I navigated the airport with the calm grace of someone who had watched a YouTube video about “How Not to Look Like a Tourist”. Naturally, I still looked exactly like a tourist and nearly got into the wrong shuttle bus twice.
But you know what? I didn’t care. I was doing this on my own, and that in itself felt rather marvellous.
🧖♀️ The Spa Day Incident (a.k.a. Goatgate)
Let me set the scene. I’d booked what was described as a “traditional Turkish hammam experience with local touches”. Sounds relaxing, right?
I imagined incense, gentle scrubbing, perhaps some scented oils and a cup of mint tea.
What I got was Mehmet.
Mehmet is a goat. A surprisingly assertive goat. When I arrived at the hammam (which looked suspiciously like someone’s converted garage), I was welcomed by a woman named Fatma who took one look at my sunburned shoulders and said something that sounded like “you need deep cleansing – very deep.”
I nodded. I smiled. I followed her to the back where the air smelled faintly of lavender and… hay?
That’s when Mehmet entered. Wearing a small bell and an expression that said, “I’ve done this before, love.”
Apparently, in this village, goat milk and a vigorous hoof scrub are considered exfoliating magic.
And who was I to say no? I’d come to embrace new experiences.
So yes – I, a 58-year-old woman from Yorkshire, was exfoliated by a goat in Turkey. My skin’s never been smoother. My dignity? That’s another matter.
🍰 Cake for Breakfast and Other Solo Travel Perks
One of the unexpected joys of solo travel at this age is doing whatever you like, whenever you like. Want cake for breakfast? Have three. Want to spend three hours people-watching at a café pretending to be a writer named Margot? Go ahead. No one’s stopping you.
There’s no compromising. No “what do you want to do today?” No waiting for your travel companion to finish yet another wine-tasting tour when you just want a nap and a Magnum from the corner shop.
You rediscover yourself. You remember you actually like yourself.
And after the goat episode, you appreciate that you’re still adventurous enough to say yes to things that would terrify a millennial.
🧭 Safety, Sanity and Surprises
Now, let’s address the practical side of things. Yes, I took safety seriously. I booked proper hotels, used airport transfers, avoided dark alleyways, and had a travel money card that made me feel like I worked for MI5.
But the most important safety measure? Trusting my gut. Well, that and WhatsApp voice notes to Sheila saying things like, “If I disappear, Fatma knows where I was last seen.”
I also made friends. Real ones. Other women travelling alone. Locals who wanted to practise their English. Even a retired teacher from Manchester who’d just left her husband and was treating herself to a “freedom tour”.
Turns out, we’re everywhere. Brave, brilliant women in our 50s and 60s out there doing the unexpected – with sensible shoes and strong SPF.
🎒 Final Thoughts from a Hammam Survivor
Travelling solo at 58 wasn’t just a holiday. It was a revelation. I realised:
- I’m more capable than I give myself credit for.
- Most people are kind and curious (and only a few of them are goats).
- And adventures don’t end at 50. They begin.
If you’re hesitating, wondering if you’re too old, too out-of-touch, too menopausal or too single to travel alone — trust me, you’re not.
You’re the perfect age. You’ve got stories to tell, jokes to make, snacks in your bag, and probably a spare pack of tissues. You are, in short, ideal solo travel material.
So go. Book the trip. Meet the goat. Be the woman who comes home with a story so ridiculous your friends will beg you to write a blog about it (which I have now done, thank you).
🏷️ Popular Hashtags to Use on Socials
If you’re sharing your own travel tales or promoting this post, try these hashtags:
- #SoloTravelAt58
- #Over50Adventures
- #WomenOver50Travel
- #NoHusbandNoProblem
- #HotFlashesAndHammams
- #TravelHumour
- #MehmetTheGoat
📣 Over to You
Have you ever accidentally joined a goat-based wellness experience? Eaten cake for breakfast in a foreign land? Or finally booked that solo trip you’ve always dreamed about?
Leave a comment or tag a friend who needs a bit of goat-therapy and girl-power in her life.
Life is short. Pack the bag. Take the trip. Say yes to the goat.
