"It was incredible to view Machu Picchu from the Sun Gate after walking the last part of the trail." Photo: Craig Hastings/Getty Images
Thanks for Joanna Moorhead's wonderful article on solo travel (Long lunches, casual friendships, no one to worry about: solo vacations are great for older women like me, March 5). I'm on my very first solo vacation, after 52 years of marriage. When I arrived in Vietnam, the guide who met me asked, "Why are you traveling alone?" I felt surprised, but understand that this type of direct questioning is a cultural norm.
Traveled a lot, but always with family, I was afraid I would become melancholic. Far from it. Apart from my itinerary, which was planned with a travel agency, I felt liberated by doing what I wanted without worrying about the rest.
Vietnam is a fascinating country with a turbulent history that spices things up. Sightseeing was refreshingly different. A visit to a series of mausoleums may seem grim, but far from it. These ornate, diverse complexes near Hue reflect the unique personality of each emperor. The only problem I've encountered is mansplaining - on long-haul flights and in restaurants.
Why am I alone? My husband has severe frontotemporal dementia. Of course my thoughts turn to our wonderful vacations together, but those days are gone and I am fortunate that, for me, while still working hard and earning, the caregiver's reprieve can be exotic. I look forward to coming back to see him. In the meantime, don't hesitate, sisters - go on your journey!
Rosalind Duhs
London
* I recently spent a month traveling alone in Italy and it was one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. Women over 50 are more than capable when it comes to dealing with transportation issues, meeting new people and experiencing new challenges. Many doubt themselves and fear that they will be lonely, but there is a fantastic world out there waiting to be explored.
With translation apps, some basic phrases and a dose of common sense, you can travel with ease, and once you've traveled with partners, family and friends, it's so much fun to do things like this for yourself.
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I've never felt alone and I found Deborah Ives' Solo in Style Facebook group, mentioned in your article, so powerful - always supportive, with great practical advice and a good kick in the butt when needed (when I lost a bag and felt very sorry for myself).
You meet great people when you travel alone and you can change your plans on the fly. You also learn to dig deep and realize that you have resilience and abilities you never thought you had.
Janice Falconer
Falkirk, Stirlingshire
* When I was in my late twenties, I traveled alone by bus through Brazil. I bought a one-way ticket and returned three years later. When I tell people this, no one blinks. But now, in my fifties, with an adult son and the same sense of wanderlust I had thirty years ago, when I say I'm going to Mexico for a month, or have just returned from a trip to Cuba alone, it seems like I get a response from women my age of horror or awe: "What, on your own?"
Yes, always - my time, my itinerary. A last-minute ticket to the theater, people watching on sidewalk cafes, a book and a picnic in the park, eating what I want when I want, an impromptu afternoon of live music and beer, galleries and museums, and a flea market - always a flea market. No pleasing people, no negotiating. If I want company, what better way than striking up a conversation in a cafe or gallery, or booking myself in for a local cooking class or small tour? I travel alone, but I'm never lonely.
I was once at lunch with my mother in a restaurant, where a woman was sitting alone - a traveler, engrossed in a book, drinking a few glasses of wine, a main course and a dessert, and chatting with the waiter. . I have to admit I was a little jealous. I wondered what she had planned for an afternoon alone in London.
Later that day, my mother, who hates being alone, said, "Did you notice that poor woman alone at lunch?" I felt so sorry for her." I think it's all about perception.
Sam Menezes
Newington Green, London
* Age does not have to be a barrier to travel if you can still get around. In February 2020 I went on a trip to Morocco when I was 92. I use a walker for fractures in my back, but I can walk quite fast and had no trouble keeping up with the tour group. On the first morning in Marrakech I overslept and discovered that the tour had already left, so I took a taxi and followed their route hoping to catch up. In fact, they had missed their planned visit to one of the most impressive palaces. I went around it (for free, when they saw my walker) and then walked alone to a shopping street, only to be dazzled by the mountains of colorful herbs and beautiful silk in the clothing stores.
It was useful to speak a little French to ask for directions, but I had no trouble finding a taxi back to the hotel, where our friendly and knowledgeable guide invited me to lunch because he felt sorry for leaving me had left behind. Excursions to the Marjorelle Gardens, the Atlas Mountains and Essaouira presented no problems. I was worried that no one would want to hang out with someone as old as me, but I was lucky enough to find an interesting group of about 50 to 75 years old who met for drinks before and after dinner, and were quite willing to have a to have a chat.
The quick-thinking guide even saved me from the ultimate holiday disaster: losing my wallet. I didn't notice it fell out of my bag while I was taking a photo near a stream in a Bedouin village. A little boy selling beads picked it up and handed it to our guide.
It was only a six day tour, but we said goodbye with regret. Morocco is a fascinating country with plenty of landscapes to look at, a tradition of exquisite craftsmanship and a cuisine that is both Arabic and French: tagines and patisserie. A bus trip there was a great experience and perfectly feasible on 92.
Jennifer Wells
Lewes, East Sussex
* I read the article about solo vacations on a rare day when my toddler is in daycare and I'm not snowed under by work (or rather, I probably am, but I'm ignoring it). The article feels like the dreamy promise of a very distant future that may never happen. For those parents who, like me, can only dream of a real holiday, may I suggest taking an occasional break from work for a solo lunch (me, just now - toast smeared with mayonnaise and tomato - good enough to by going for tapas), a solo lunch walk, a solo outing to the cinema? When you half close your eyes and put your phone away, it almost feels like freedom.
The irony is that in a past life I once went on a solo adventure and had to fight hard to get over the loneliness of it. Oh, how I wish I could get my loneliness back. It reminds me of a line from Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet: "Love your loneliness."
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* I'm married to someone who doesn't fly, so I took the plunge into solo travel almost 20 years ago and have never looked back. Argentina, Antarctica and the Iguazu Falls were ticked off my bucket list. The fear of dining alone in Buenos Aires was dispelled by taking a book with you - no cell phones in those days.
Wherever I travel in the world, there are helpful and friendly people, so don't be afraid to ask. The Galápagos Islands were so much better on a small boat than on a cruise, and it was incredible to see Machu Picchu from the Sun Gate after walking the last part of the trail.
At 77, I'm leaving next week to tick off Chile's Atacama Desert and Easter Island. So I say go for it - what have you got to lose?
Andrea Stow
CleckheatonWest Yorkshire
* Joanna Moorhead's article spoke to me. Unable to afford solo travel as a young student, I started traveling within Europe around the age of sixty - single again and with adult children and grandchildren.
I consciously chose smaller cities with art galleries and museums that attracted me, for example Porto for the Serralves museum, Málaga for the Picasso museum, etc. Below is a poem that I wrote on the spot that may be about this subject.
Gillie Harries
Bristol
14.03.2018 I eat alone
You are alone?
asks the charming maitre d'.
Yes, just for now
I react.
I sit down, Giselle has hit
Her anger over the city,
Next to the mirror glass
A bowl of sopa fava warms
My cold constitution
I look out onto the garden
From Virtuden
A virtuous silence
exciting
Lunch for one:
Clean vinho verdhe
Olive bread oil
Painted with the ombre
From balsamic vinegar
A lonely woman
In peace,
Maybe
like the American
Or French woman
seated
for me
Her back says
She enjoys
Also this party
Bomb Dia.
A mother of pearl light
Disappears from the
Atlantic coast
Along the Douro.
A yellow crane
Moves its load
Meticulous, safe
As we women are
Now allowed
Lonely movement.
The change, the shift;
Carefully, slowly
Safe.
Appropriately, by staring upwards
And this is a gallery,
The black painted outline
Of a daring woman, faces
Downstairs in the room
Her eyes battle
The space
And a tree branches
Free from her skull
Knowledge and solidarity
Saint of lonely women
To dine,
We have grown up.
Stop praying for us. * Have a photo you'd like to share with Guardian readers? If so, click here to upload it. A selection will be published in our readers' best photo galleries and in the print edition on Saturdays.