Here's the true grit by people in the know. Women share their experiences and thoughts on solo travel.

So you're ready to travel. Pick a place, any place. Let's say you've always wanted to go to China. You've seen pictures of the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, Tianenmen Square. You loved The Last Emperor and Raise the Red Lantern. You've eaten Szechuan and Hunan and Chao Chow. You've always been fascinated with Chinese culture, with red temples and Buddhas and ladies with tiny feet.

You happen to have some money socked away and extra vacation time accrued. There's nothing to stop you - now's the time to go!

But maybe you're not someone who has traveled much. Sure, a summer in Europe, a Christmas in the Bahamas. You've been to Paris to visit friends, went to Mexico with an ex-lover, stayed with your sister in San Francisco.

But you've never really traveled. Not like this. You've never been to an exotic place, where you can't speak the language, can't even read the signs. A place where you'll have to do all the research for yourself, find hotels, get yourself from airports to towns, buy train, bus or boat tickets, order your own food.

So now you're ready for an adventure. You've got the money and the time to finally realize your dream. And you're excited about it. You're going to explore China, and find, for yourself, the soul of the country.

Unfortunately, none of your friends share that dream.

Your sister thinks China sounds awful. She doesn't even like Chinese food. Your best friend just got a new job and can't take time off. Your Significant Other - well, isn't it a little too early to risk that relationship? Remember what happened in Mexico!

So what do you do? You could ask everyone you know - friends, acquaintances, coworkers. You could ask them to ask their friends and acquaintances and coworkers. You could offer to pay the airfare. You could advertise for a travel companion. You could join a tour. Or you could go alone.

To travel alone, I suppose, is a difficult decision for anyone, though especially so for a woman. For me, it seemed to come naturally. I made that trip to China. And to Indonesia and Burma and England and France.

But the reactions I've gotten, from people I know, fellow travelers, and especially, from the natives of the countries I've visited, showed me that solo traveling is unusual, and even inconceivable to many people. People ask me if I'm lonely. People wonder what's wrong with me. And because I'm a woman, I guess, (and small?) people have felt the need to take care of me.

This has been sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse. I remember searching desperately for accommodations in Tainan, Taiwan. I went to a University that was listed in my guidebook. I was rather distraught when they told me they no longer had dormitories for travelers. Then, the desk clerk called a young woman out of a nearby office. She said, "Do you like this girl?" I wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. As it turned out, the young woman was offering to let me stay at her flat. She didn't speak a word of English, and I didn't speak Mandarin. She had to work the next day, so arranged for a friend to come over and chauffeur me around on her motorbike.

Also in Taiwan, I met two girls on holiday who smuggled me into their hotel room, gave me one of the beds (they shared the other), and took me to dinner with their tour group. At dinner I was told that the Taiwanese never go "Dutch" - members of the group take turns picking up the tab. ("When will my turn come?" I asked, much to their amusement). When they heard my next stop was their hometown, they arranged for a friend to pick me up at the train station and give me a tour of their city.

In Thailand, I met two women on a boat who took me home, let me stay with them for a week, and played hooky from work to take me sightseeing. In Burma, a man invited me into his house so that he could practice his English; I ended up speaking to his father in Japanese. In France on Bastille Day, an Adonis rescued me from a bus stop when no buses were running, and he carried my backpack across town where we hitchhiked to Avignon.

But there have been the not-so-pleasant experiences. On the island of Lombok, in Indonesia, a cute boy gave me a ride on his motorbike, and thought that gave him license to grope. All over Indonesia, boys pestered me, assuming I was willing to pay for their company.

In Japan, I was picked up hitchhiking by a young man who refused to drop me at the Youth Hostel as I requested - he insisted I stay with his friends. The friends turned out to be four girls - I was safe, but one snored like a lawnmower, and it took me two days to escape.

I've been frustrated many times - not speaking a language, not understanding and not being understood. What about the time in Italy when the hotel clerk tried to overcharge? (After 10 minutes of incomprehensible arguing, she gave up). The time in China when a taxi driver insisted I pay more? (I was rescued by the doorman of a fancy hotel - even though I wasn't staying there, but in the hostel next door). The time in Indonesia when I was served a plate of rice with a chicken foot? (I went up to the counter, the foot was promptly removed from my plate, and I enjoyed the meal)

Having a companion might have helped me avoid some of those problems. But I wouldn't have had the other opportunities - the seven days through Burma in the back of a truck with a Brit, two Aussies and two Norwegians. Eating my way through Eastern Korea with four youthful Japanese salarymen. Traveling from Malacca to Penang, Malaysia, and sharing cheap hotel rooms with a sweet Englishman. Hanging with a Japanese girl in Hong Kong, who set me up with a place to stay with her friend in Singapore. Getting sick in China, and being nursed with Royal Jelly chocolate bars by a couple from Texas.

I have often traveled alone, but I have not often been alone while traveling. The few times I have traveled with a companion, I found that it was more difficult to meet people. Other travelers can give you not only information on the places they've been, but also new insights into the place you're visiting. And the locals see you as more approachable when you're on your own.

Traveling alone, you can often avoid a "single supplement" by simply teaming up with another solo traveler. I have many times shared rooms with new friends of both sexes. This may strike some as foolish and dangerous, and perhaps I have been lucky. I depended on my instincts. I have had a few harrowing experiences when staying alone, but have usually felt that I could trust a fellow traveler.

Of course you have to be careful. Watch your back, but don't be paranoid. Be friendly with people but watch out for those who are too friendly with you. Trust your instincts. Talk to people. If you hear stories about bandits on a road in Thailand, take the road - just don't take much cash, and don't accept Coca Cola from strangers.

The key to solo travel is to open your mind, close your eyes and leap in! Everything that happens to you is an experience. That experience will benefit you in some way. At the very least, it will be a funny story to tell the folks back home. Take those little annoyances, those inefficiencies, those plodding bureaucrats with a laugh. If something makes you angry, just remember: you don't live there, you can leave anytime, and you'll never have to deal with this again!

Don't ever let a lack of companionship keep you from doing what you really want to do. Once you go solo, you'll be amazed at how much richer your travel experiences will be. You may find that they have changed you, almost certainly, for the better.

I briefly looked up from my journal and gave a relieved smile to the 20-something year old man who sat down beside me on the train. Ten minutes earlier, a few dozen boy scouts had invaded my car, on their way to a weekend camping excursion. I could not keep up with their level of excitement or noise. I wanted to sleep, not sing French and English camp songs.

I was on my way to Luxembourg City, Luxembourg for one night, near the end of my two-month tour of Europe. Although I was thankful for the adult, not child, presence, I was a little tired of making new friends. I returned to writing in my journal. The noise made me unable to focus, however, and found myself wondering about the man sitting next to me. He certainly didn't look like a businessman, and he obviously was not a backpacker. "Hi," I said, closing my journal and turning to look at him. "I'm Courtney." The man smiled at me, "I'm Mike."

Mike and I talked for the next few hours. My suspicions were correct. Mike was on holiday from Ireland, visiting friends in Luxembourg City for the weekend. Like any good budget traveler, he had flown a cheap airline that set him down a few hours from his real destination and missed the last train to Luxembourg the night before. Mike told me an outdoor jazz festival was taking place on Saturday evening and I should stay in Luxembourg another night. Not having any set plans, I agreed that it sounded like fun.

After leaving the train, we wandered through the city. Luxembourg is a small country, with less than half a million people. French is generally spoken in the city, while German is more popular in the country. Both are official languages, along with Luxembourgish, a combination of the two that I never heard spoken. English is also widely known.

Because of its diminutive size (999 sq. km.) and population (less than half a million), backpackers often overlook Luxembourg. There is only one hostel in Luxembourg City, and according to its employees, usually full. However, a trip to the country's capital and home to a fourth of its people shouldn't be left off a European itinerary. The city is small enough that you can walk from one end of the business district to the other in less than an hour and there is no need to take public transportation unless your backpack is too heavy to walk a few miles from the train station to the hostel. The main streets and squares teem with cafes and 20-somethings taking their lunch break outside, and a few odd sculptures pop up around the area.

I spent most of my time in two main areas, the city Centre and the Grund. The Centre, in a walled fortress part of the city, is home to the main roads, professional businesses and world-renowned banks. The view from the wall is spectacular and the sheer drop to the Grund, or ground, is impressive. The Grund neighborhood is accessible to pedestrians via elevator (steep stairs if you prefer) and is more intimate than the bustling district above it.

My hostel was located outside of the business area, so after taking down Mike's number I huffed and puffed my way up and down a few steep hills before arriving at the twenty-five person bedroom, communal shower building that was fully booked for Saturday night. Disappointed about missing the festival, I resigned myself to leaving for France the next day.

That evening I met up with Mike and his friends, Irish ex-pats named Dec and Val. We headed out to an Irish bar where a group of Dec and Val's co-workers and friends were meeting. Most were Irish expatriates working in the financial sector of Luxembourg, where the business language was English. Within two hours, I had been offered accommodation at four different apartments for Saturday night. Pleasantly surprised, I took Dec and Val up on their offer and headed back to my hostel to avoid missing the 2 am curfew.

On Saturday morning, I wandered back through the city and met up with Mike, Dec and Val. We had lunch at an outdoor cafe and stopped off at the grocery store before jumping on a bus to visit another one of their Irish friends on the other side of the city. There, I was surrounded by a dozen drinking, grilling and shouting Irish watching hurling on satellite TV. After learning the basics of the game, I was prepared for the next day, when we went to yet another Irish bar to watch a sport I had never heard of, Gaelic football.

I spent three nights in Luxembourg City. During that time, I met more than two-dozen Irish expatriates. Although I had never met any of them before, I had to fight to pay for my expenses. The only time I paid for a meal was when I excused myself to go to the bathroom and settled up the dinner bill instead. Because of my hosts, I was given an insider's glimpse into both Luxembourg City and expatriate culture. Although they had lived there for years, most associated more with Irish ex-pats than locals, but they welcomed anyone, including a stray backpacker. As I left, Dec smiled at me and said, "If you run out of money, you just come back here and we'll take care of ya, you understand?" After enjoying the beautiful sights of Luxembourg City and the warmth of the Irish, I may just do that.

I'm in the shower and trying to hurry, twisting to brush off the remaining sand on my shoulder blades. As I turn off the water and grab for my towel, I hear the heavy front door close. "Damn," I mutter, "I should have made him wait."

The him is my cousin Matt, from Australia. We're like 7^th cousins and only met once before this, last year, but we call each other ‘cuz' anyway. We've been staying at a Casa Hospedaljes in San Sebastian, Spain for four days. There is only one other person staying in the three room flat- a tall man in his late twenties. The man is always there, no matter what time of day. He tells us is name is Paulo and that he is originally from San Sebastian. Paulo says he is here only briefly, to visit family, but he asks me too many questions about where I am going and stares too much for that to seem true.

Before I headed into the shower, Matt and I agreed to separate for the afternoon and to meet up for dinner. However, faced with the prospect of making conversation with Paulo, I decided to hurry to see if I could at the same time Matt did. Having failed in this mission, I figured the next best thing was trying to sneak out without Paulo seeing me.

I opened the door slowly. My bedroom door was right next to the bathroom, so I didn't think I would have a problem. However, when I opened the door further, I jumped. Paulo stood 10 feet away from me in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Oh, hi Paulo." I laughed nervously and glanced toward my room, frowning when I saw the door ajar. I walked into my room and jumped as he pushed the door open after me and leaned against the door frame.

Paulo looked at me and smiled. "We're all alone now."

I was now 8 feet away, grabbing at items to put in my bag. "Yes, yes," I chattered, pretending to act like I didn't understand, "Matt just went out. He should be back an minute."

Paulo inched closer. "Ah, yes, your cousin." He waved his hand in dismissal. "You know, no one could hear you. We're all alone."

My heart started beating faster as I realized he was right. There was no one else in the apartment to hear me. My mind started racing. How thick are the walls? Do I remember any jujutsu? What does he want from me?

I continued to babble, "Yes, yes. Ah, I must, ah, be going now. I am supposed to meet Matt soon."

Paulo frowned and stepped closer. "But we are alone."

I was now packing and speaking at a frenetic pace. "Yes, but I have to go. I need to leave now. You need to leave so I can lock up the room, come on, let's go." I started shooing him toward the door, all the while smiling. For a second he didn't move and I took a deep breath to gather up air in my lungs to scream. Then he glared at me, turned around and stalked out the room. I felt a brief moment of relief, only to realize that he could still be in the hallway, blocking my exit.

I grabbed my bag and locked the door quickly. I didn't see him, but the front door was around the corner and his bedroom door was open. As I walked by it, I saw Paulo laying on his bed, watching me. He blew me kisses as I raced out the front door.

I made it outside and began to cry. I called my father from my mobile phone, not caring that it was costing me $2 per minute. After I hung up with him, I texted Matt, who met me downtown. We sat on a bench overlooking the ocean and I told what had happened. When I was finished he looked at me and said, "Courtney, didn't you see I left the bedroom door open for you? Before I left, I wondered if that guy could do anything to you. I decided I was just being silly but I left the door open anyway- he gave me the creeps."

When I tell people this story, they inevitably respond, "See! That's why females shouldn't travel alone. It's too dangerous." They are eager to reconfirm their suspicions and make themselves feel better about not visiting other countries. But they are wrong. This was actually the one part of my around the world trip that I wasn't traveling alone, and the only time something happened! This incident occurred in the middle of the day, while my cousin was running an errand. Some things happen that you can't control- it's not going to make me stop traveling.