I'm with my boyfriend Spike. He knows karate and carries a gun. I'm meeting him here in 10 minutes.

While in Lagos, I met Brooke, a 21-year-old from Ohio who spent the summer traveling around Europe by herself. We became friends and talked quite a bit about traveling solo.

Traveling by yourself -- particularly as a woman -- is tricky business. It means going home before dark so you don't have to make such a trip by yourself, or walking really, really fast after dark. It means occasionally having to turn down invitations to various events because you can't be certain of a participant's character. It means being rude and dismissing people who are probably perfectly decent folk and are just being nice. It means taking chances.

Above all, it means putting an incredible amount of faith in your intuition. You're equally likely to avoid a certain street or accept a ride somewhere without knowing why. One might think this makes you crazy or stupid, but it's all you've got.

I admire Brooke a great deal, as I do any solo female traveler. I admire their courage, and their realization that this seeing-the-world thing is worth any risk that might be associated with it. They are amazing, adventurous people.

It is with some surprise that I realize I am one of them.