The first meal of the day can become a way of arriving. Not just in a city, but in your own body. Before the museum ticket, the walking route, the train platform, the weather check, the message home, there is a small table somewhere. A chipped cup. A paper napkin. A piece of fruit from a market stall. The smell of bread warming behind a counter. Solo travel often gets praised for freedom, and rightly so. No one else’s timetable. No compromise over where to stay, what to see,