Pamela Holt Explains Why Solo Travel Is a Skill—and How Anyone Can Learn It

Some people bond over coffee. Pamela and I bonded at the top of a building in Las Vegas, preparing to step off the Strat—877 feet above the ground.

It wasn’t bungee jumping. With bungee jumping, you come back up. This was a one-way drop—hurdling toward the earth in free fall until the rigging snapped tight, slowing us just enough to lower the final 50 feet to the ground. 

Before the jump, I stood beside Pamela at the top of the tower, both of us waiting our turn to step off the ledge—one at a time. I saw my own fear reflected back at me in her eyes. But there was resolve there, too. “I guess, you can’t be brave if you’re never scared,” I said with a shaky laugh.

As my feet touched the ground, she was there waiting for me—all 5’4” of her, practically bouncing with excitement and pride. There are very few people like Pamela Holt—in her 50s and proving with every expression, reaction, and spontaneous dance move that age is just a number. She radiates childlike curiosity, always searching for joy, the odd, and the unexpected. It’s what makes her the perfect travel companion—and that’s exactly what she is to millions of people.

Holt is the host of Amazon Prime’s “Me, Myself & The World: The Art of Solo Travel,” and she is currently gearing up for the third season of the series, traveling the globe to connect with strangers, try unfamiliar cuisines, and grab hold of every opportunity as if it might be her last. Because at one point, it might have been.

Holt survived two brutal car accidents, each arriving just in time to derail the trajectory of her Hollywood career. 

Before heading into the operating room for spinal surgery, Holt made a phone call—to American Airlines. “If you hear from me in the next 12 hours,” she told them, “no matter what I sound like or what I say, I want you to book my flight.” Her destination: backpacking solo through the Middle East. 

As she was rolled into the OR, Holt asked her surgeon if she could hold his scalpel. Confused, he agreed. Using the blade as a mirror, she pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick. I’ve always been too afraid to wear this, she said as she applied the color. But not today.

According to Holt, the energy in the room shifted instantly—attendants smiling, music turned up. When she woke, she learned the surgery had been a complete success, without complication. She called the airline again. As the receiver was picked up on the other end, she heard a cheer, the staff realizing she had survived the operation. 

“Book it,” Holt said.

Crouse: What was the moment or experience that first pushed you toward solo travel, and when did you realize it would become a defining part of your life story?

Holt: I actually trace it back to Hong Kong on my 14th birthday. I was traveling in Asia with my family, and I had worked all summer to earn my own spending money. That day, I bought my first real purchase: a SEIKO watch with a black eel-skin band, a white face, and Roman numerals. It was a big deal for a 14-year-old. I still have it, and I still wear it today.

That night, my birthday dinner was at Jimmy’s restaurant on the Kowloon side (they have French onion soup!), and the whole room sang Happy Birthday to me, sparklers and all. I remember having this quiet feeling of, “Oh… I’ve arrived.” We had just come from deep inside China in 1984, which was pretty rare back then, and suddenly the world just felt open and accessible to me.

I didn’t have the words for it at the time, but there was a specific moment when I felt like I was on my way in life… free. Independent. I wanted to be a woman of the world, someone defined by curiosity, not limits. Amelia Earhart was an early influence for me (she was my third-grade teacher’s great aunt), so that idea of adventure and independence really stuck.

Looking back now, I realize that moment wasn’t really about travel. It was about independence. Solo travel became the way I kept returning to that feeling again and again, not as an escape, but as something that felt like home to my wanderlust heart.

Your Amazon Prime series puts solo travel front and center. What sparked the idea to turn your journey into a show, and what did you hope audiences would take away from it?

It came to me on an overnight train ride from Hanoi in North Vietnam to Hoi An in central Vietnam. Earlier that evening, I had been talking to a fellow passenger and mentioned that I worked in film and television and had traveled to 93 countries. Their immediate response was, “Oh, do you have a travel show?” I said no without thinking about it. But sitting on that train all night, watching the landscape roll by, it dawned on me that I could finally marry my two passions, television and travel. 

I didn’t set out to document travel. I set out to tell stories. Through those stories, I can bring people together and show how much we actually have in common. Through sharing my story, I can inspire people to discover the world and the stories that speak to them, on their own terms.

That’s when I realized that for once in my life, I didn’t need permission or an invitation. I already had the skills. I had produced projects, directed large-scale stage shows, and worked on camera, including as a travel host on The Florence Henderson Show. On top of that, I was already a well-traveled solo traveler, and people were constantly coming to me for advice.

At some point, I stopped waiting to be chosen. Solo travel had taught me that independence isn’t a personality trait; it’s a skill you build over time. Creating the show was simply the moment when skill, experience, and confidence finally aligned. Once I saw that alignment, I realized the show could give other people permission to trust themselves, too.

Solo travel requires a particular kind of courage and self-trust. How did your relationship with yourself change as you filmed the series?

As I’ve mentioned before, solo travel is a skill set. It’s something you can learn, both the hard way and the easy way. Over the years, solo travel has changed my relationship with myself in profoundly positive ways, and filming my series deepened that even more. Honestly, I would not be half the person I am today without travel in my life, let alone solo travel.

I was terrified when I first started filming the series as the executive producer, director, and host. Imposter syndrome hit hard. I remember sitting in the Hong Kong airport, finishing a hot fudge sundae (sugar courage), waiting for my cameraman’s flight to arrive, and thinking, “What am I doing?” I had shot lists, storyboards, and endless notes, but paperwork doesn’t prepare you to lead. That part, I had to learn on the job.

What changed me was being forced into real-time leadership. Making quick decisions. Leading by example. And, quite frankly, not waiting for an invitation to fulfill my own dreams. That process gave me a level of confidence I had never experienced before.

I’ll never forget the moment I learned the show had been picked up by Amazon. I didn’t believe it at first. I actually turned on Amazon just to see it with my own eyes. For the first time in my life, I felt complete, not because I had landed an industry deal, but because I could say to myself, “I did that.”

What surprised me most came later, and that’s where my relationship with myself changed the most. A few months into the series airing, I started hearing from viewers, some through direct messages, and one even in a grocery store, about how the show had inspired them or helped them trust themselves in new ways. That’s when I realized the true gift wasn’t the platform, it was the impact. That’s where the real change happened for me.

Was there a destination or episode that transformed you more than you expected—either emotionally, creatively, or personally?

One of the most transformative moments for me came in Season 2 when I met Pat, an American woman veteran from the Vietnam War era. I introduced her to a Vietnamese veteran and learned that what we call the “Vietnam War” is referred to there as the “American War,” a distinction that immediately reframed how I understood the history myself.

Pat had originally joined the military prepared to fight in Vietnam, but she was stationed in Europe instead. Years later, she returned to Vietnam to reconcile why she had ever signed up to kill someone she had never met. Sitting with her as she met the Vietnamese veteran, who had fought in and survived three wars and had only ever wanted to be a music teacher and a father, was incredibly moving. From meeting every sweet pet he owned (dog, cat, bird) to trying all the snacks he had prepared, it was cathartic for her and deeply humbling for me to witness.

The bonus was what happened afterward. Pat and I were sitting and having the famous Vietnamese egg coffee, talking about my show and how I interview people of all ages. She jokingly said, “Well, you can check off the old one,” and I told her she didn’t qualify. I said I was looking for someone in their 90s, and that she was very much middle-aged. She later wrote to tell me that moment changed how she saw her own life. In her small town, being in her sixties felt old. She had forgotten how much life was still ahead of her.

That experience reminded me how powerful perspective can be. Not just across cultures or countries, but across time. It reinforced why I tell these stories, because sometimes the most meaningful journeys aren’t about where you go, but how you see yourself when you get there.

Viewers see the final cut, not the behind-the-scenes reality. What were some of the most meaningful or challenging moments that didn’t make it onto the screen?

One of my favorite behind-the-scenes moments actually ended up in the title sequence of the series. My cameraman was flying the drone and hiding under a bush so he wouldn’t appear in the shot, while I was in frame running through a rice field. At some point, he yelled because he was getting eaten alive by a swarm of bugs, just as I yelled and started running because I thought I saw a snake. I took off so fast that I slipped and fell straight into the mud, brand-new shoes and all.

I ran through that rice field like my life depended on it, and somehow it ended up being the best, and one of the only usable takes we had. It looks absolutely magnificent on screen, even though I genuinely felt like I was running for my life. We spent the next week putting cream on his bug bites every day, and my shoes have never been the same. I still don’t know if there was actually a snake, but it was something. I laugh every time I see it.

What viewers don’t see is the reality of filming a non-scripted show on location. I spent seven and a half weeks scouting seven countries on my own to find the stories I wanted to tell and the places where those stories lived. I truly solo traveled to each destination to walk the walk, and built those relationships first, then went back six months later to film.

Some of the most meaningful moments never aired at all. There were conversations in Vietnam, including between American and Vietnamese war veterans, that were too personal and sensitive to put on camera. Those moments mattered deeply, even if they weren’t shown, and they shaped how the stories ultimately unfolded on screen. My biggest challenge was holding it together on screen. It was so powerful!

During production, I was lucky if I got three hours of sleep a night. Between confirming schedules, updating shot lists and storyboards, making notes from the day’s filming, and getting up early to be camera-ready, it was constant. When we finally wrapped, I stayed a few extra days in Thailand just to sleep before starting the 28-hour journey home.

That part never makes it on screen, but it’s where the show was really built. And I wouldn’t change one moment.

You’ve visited more than 90 countries. How does being constantly immersed in new cultures shape your sense of purpose and how you move through the world?

Travel really does change you, for the better, when you travel right. How could it not?

When I first started immersing myself in new cultures, I was struck by how different everything felt: the customs, the traditions, the perspectives. But over time, I came full circle and realized how similar we all actually are. Our need for love, connection, safety, and meaning is universal.

That realization has shaped my sense of purpose in a very real way. Travel didn’t just make me want to tell stories; it made me want to tell other people’s stories, and to share them in a way that creates connection.

Moving through the world now feels seamless to me. I once read that, Homo sapiens were reduced to as few as a couple of thousand individuals on Earth, and without a few humans having the wanderlust gene, we might not have survived as a species. I truly believe I was given that curiosity, that need to see what’s around the corner, beyond the mountain, and across the sea.

If I can tell stories that connect us and encourage others to seek their own stories that create connections that might not have otherwise formed, then my purpose feels complete. And I feel incredibly lucky that it worked. I often remind myself, especially when I travel, of a quote I once saw at a local farmers’ market: “Leap, and the net will appear.” In my experience, it does, when the purpose is authentic.

The series highlights the beauty and independence of traveling solo. What misconceptions about solo travel do you hope to dispel?

1. Solo travel means traveling alone.

Just the opposite. I find it nearly impossible not to meet people while traveling. When I travel solo, my circle is open to others. I’m more present, more approachable, and more open to connection, and because of that, I meet more people.

People are often curious about solo travelers because it’s something they’ve long wanted to try themselves. Some of my most meaningful conversations and experiences have happened because I was traveling on my own, solo. That’s why I always remind people that solo does not mean “alone travel.” I redefined it as an acronym. S.O.L.O. stands for Seeking Out Life’s Opportunities^®.

2. Solo travelers are running away from something.

You don’t need an existential crisis to solo travel. There’s this idea that people who travel solo are running from something or escaping their lives, when in reality, solo travel allows you to step into life.

For me, solo travel has always been about choosing life, not avoiding it.

3. Travel needs permission or an invitation.

Many people, especially women, have been conditioned to wait for permission or an invitation to travel. That framework no longer applies. As solo travel has become more accessible, affordable, and socially accepted, the decision to go has shifted back where it belongs, with the individual.

We no longer need an invitation or permission to travel.

Creating a show requires vulnerability—you’re not just traveling, you’re letting people witness you. What was the hardest part of being that open on camera?

The hardest part was opening my life up so publicly and knowing I might be judged, or worse, not accepted.

I had to remind myself who I was actually speaking to. Validation didn’t come from critics, it came from people who saw themselves in my story. Women and men who wished they had the courage to try, and those who already traveled solo. Strangers I met along the way. Families. People who sat next to me in restaurants and shared their own stories of longing to travel somewhere meaningful.

Image courtesy of Pamela Holt

How has sharing your story on a global platform changed the way people connect with you, and what types of conversations has it sparked?

Sharing my story on a global platform has shifted conversations from travel tips to life choices. People don’t just ask me where to go, they tell me what they’re afraid to do, what they’re longing to do, or what they finally tried because they saw themselves reflected in the show.

The conversations are less about destinations and more about the feeling they’re seeking. That’s when I realized the show wasn’t just being watched, it was being practiced.

If you could ask Worth readers to try one mindset shift or practice from your solo-travel philosophy, what would it be?

If I could ask Worth readers to try one mindset shift, it would be this: stop waiting for permission. You don’t need a perfect plan or someone else’s approval to begin.

You don’t even need to be fearless. Feel the fear and do it anyway, a line from Dr. Susan Jeffers that has stayed with me and continues to motivate me when doubt creeps in. I’ve learned to acknowledge the fear, thank it, and keep moving forward.

The tagline of my show is The Art of Solo Travel. I always encourage people to start small and let the practice grow. Take yourself out to dinner or on a solo day trip to a nearby town. Then try an overnight in a nearby state or a short domestic trip. Eventually, choose an international destination that feels supportive, with English widely spoken and strong public transportation. Travel with intention toward something meaningful, whether it’s a cooking class, a history lesson, or a mountain to climb, and the doubts tend to fade.

Each step, each trip, each success builds personal trust in yourself and your capabilities. And when you seek out life’s opportunities, even in small ways, it changes how you travel, how you show up for yourself, and how you show up for others.

Once you learn to trust yourself, you don’t just travel differently. You live differently.

P.S.

I once had a guy stop me in the grocery store and say, almost begrudgingly, “My wife watches your show.” I joked, “Do you?” and he admitted he only watched because she had it on, as if it wasn’t meant for him, then smiled and told me they’d booked a trip to Bali together after watching it.

That moment stayed with me, because it reminded me how often people assume solo travel, or a show hosted by a woman, is just for women, when the message is really about independence and curiosity, and that’s for everyone.