From Kansas City to Killarney: My First Real Solo Adventure

Chasing Ghosts, Guinness, and a Little Bit of Myself

Look, I’ve technically done the “solo travel” thing before—technically. Kansas City counts, right? I mean, bless it—it’s where I was born (don’t ask, I don’t know anyone there either), but come on. Kansas City is not exactly crossing the Atlantic with a carry-on and a mild identity crisis. It’s more barbecue and airport layovers than life-altering self-discovery. Still… it was a start.

But this?
This trip to Ireland—yeah, this feels different.

You ever have a place stick to your ribs long after you’ve left it? That’s what happened when I went to Ireland back in April. I can’t get it out of my head—the damp air that smells like grass and history, the way everyone talks like they’ve been waiting to tell you a story, and the fact that everything, even the rain, feels alive.

Sure, I’ve got Irish blood somewhere in there. Not in the “I drink green beer on St. Paddy’s” way, but in the quiet, real sense—roots that twist back through tiny villages, old church records, and family names that sound like characters in folklore. Being there made me think of my grandmother. Not because she ever set foot in Ireland, but because she had that same warmth and wit the people there carry in their bones. It felt like bumping into her ghost around every corner.

People keep asking me why I’m doing this alone.
Honestly? Because I have to.

There’s this strange high that comes with landing somewhere new by yourself. The first few hours are terrifying—you’re jetlagged, lost, pretending to know how to read bus timetables—but then something happens. You start talking to strangers, usually over pints. You start saying yes more. And at some point, you realize you’re not really alone at all. You’re just… stripped down to who you actually are.

Solo travel scares the hell out of me. And that’s exactly why I keep doing it. It’s like fear and freedom had a baby—and I can’t stop chasing the feeling.

This time, Echoes Abroad is coming along for the ride. I’ll be lugging my camera, my sketchbook, and probably too many existential thoughts through misty towns and crowded pubs. I want to show Ireland the only way I know how—through art, through stories, through the little unfiltered moments that make a trip unforgettable.

So here’s what you can expect:

• Photos that (hopefully) make your heart skip like mine did standing on a cliff somewhere stupidly beautiful.

• Rambling blog entries about conversations with locals and near-misses with sheep on country roads.

• Art inspired by real places and unreal feelings.

And no, this isn’t one of those influencer “here’s my morning routine in Galway” things. I’m not sipping Guinness for the algorithm. This is me, trying to feel something again—to follow curiosity wherever it leads, even if it’s to a pub full of strangers or a field that smells like rain and old stories.

So, expect a mess—in the best way. Expect honesty, humor, and a few wrong turns (literal and emotional). Expect someone in their maybe-forties (give or take, don’t ask) trying to remember what it feels like to be new at something again.

It’s not just a trip. It’s a restart.
And if you’re reading this—you’re already coming with me.

📸 Follow along on Instagram [@echoesabroadtravel]
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