A thoughtful approach to experience the world
As I tucked away our passports after booking our summer getaway, I found myself flipping through the pages of mine. It’s my third one since my parents first got me one. And the first was completely blank when it expired. My second held my first trip abroad. And this one? It's seen more security gates and new beginnings than the others combined.
It hit me: I’ve been traveling internationally for over a decade now. That’s not nothing. For someone who’s always been fascinated by the world, it feels quietly significant, something I smile about. Something I’m proud of, in the soft, private way you are when you know how far you’ve come.
So I started thinking about how I’ve changed as a traveler. Not just the kind of trips I take, but how I take them or how I move through the world. The intentions, the habits, the quiet evolution that happened along the way.
Have you ever pondered how you travel? What influences your choices, what you seek, or why you go at all?
I used to approach travel with a level of precision that could rival military logistics. I’d fill in detailed itineraries, triple-check my bookings, and send my plans to people back home, you know, just in case. Partly, it was for safety. But if I’m being honest, part of it was guilt. Guilt for leaving. Guilt for choosing myself for a while. I wanted the people I loved to know I was being responsible, that I hadn’t just disappeared. I’ve never liked being a burden. And maybe that was my way of easing the weight.
There were also practical reasons, especially for someone who needed visas. If I didn’t have my act together, I risked not going at all. Having a system helped. It made the dream possible.
And of course, there was the pressure to make it count. When you’ve worked hard, saved carefully, and made trade-offs to earn a trip, there’s this urge to squeeze the most out of every second. I wanted to see everything. To gather stories like souvenirs for the people I couldn’t bring with me. Looking back, it came from love. But also from this sense that I had to justify it all somehow.
These days, things are softer. Slower. I still plan, but not every detail. I book what needs to be booked, then let the rest unfold. I’ve come to care more about how a place makes me feel than how many landmarks I can tick off. I trust my instincts. I leave space for detours, for stillness, for the kinds of moments that don’t fit on an itinerary. And somewhere along the way, the guilt eased too.
Because here’s the thing, I know that being able to travel is a privilege. It always has been. I didn’t grow up thinking this was even on the table. I dreamt it, sure. But it felt like something other people did: people with different passports, more money, fewer obligations.
But somewhere along the way, I chose to build a life that made space for it. Sometimes guilt still visits when I think about the disparity or the people and places I leave behind. But I try to meet that feeling with care, not shame. I travel with intention. With respect. With the hope that by living this way, curiously & consciously, I’m not taking more than I give.
More to the point…
How I choose where to go
I don’t spin a globe or throw a dart on a map (I wish I were that daredevil or carefree). I am very much aware of my constraints. It usually starts with a feeling: a book, a piece of music, a craving for something I can’t quite name. Some places call to me like a whisper, not a shout. And I listen. I try to honor that.
Sometimes I want silence. To be somewhere wide open, where I can hear myself think. Other times, I want to dissolve into a city’s chaos: blend in, eat well, and get lost. But I always ask myself: Why here, why now? What am I looking for that I can’t find here, now?
When I choose a place now, I think about:
Timing – Not just seasons, but seasons of me. What do I need at this point in my life?
Connection – Can I go beyond surface level? Will I leave knowing more than when I arrived?
Pace – Can I stay long enough to actually feel the rhythm of a place?
Budget is always part of the equation, but it’s not the first filter I run a destination through. If I’m only choosing a place because it’s cheap, then maybe I’m not that interested in going there to begin with. I travel because something about a place draws me in, not because it fits neatly into a spreadsheet.
Of course, if it’s cheap then that’s a big bonus.
If a destination feels too expensive for what it offers, I take that as a sign that the interest isn’t strong enough. For me, curiosity comes first. If I genuinely want to go somewhere and I can afford it, I’ll make it happen. But if I have to overthink every expense just to pull the trip off, I’ll wait. I’d rather go when I can do it comfortably, on my terms.
Safety is another baseline. I don’t romanticize risk. If a place feels unstable or unsafe, I simply choose somewhere else. That’s not fear, it’s just being practical.
Planning without choking the life out of it
Yes, I plan. I might be more spontaneous now but there is still minimal planning that goes into a planned trip. I get the basics down so I’m not stuck or scrambling, but I’ve learned to leave gaps. That’s where the good stuff lives.
I read about a place beforehand. The messy bits. The proud moments. The politics, the pain, the poetry. Because if I’m going to show up in someone else’s home, the least I can do is care enough to learn. In learning about a place - its history, geography, people, and culture, I feel like I already am on a trip. It gets me excited, like I belong there already, like I share their story too.
My system now:
Nail the logistics – Flights, shelter, safety. Know how to get from A to B.
Pick a few things I’m genuinely excited about – Not just the ones on every “Top 5” list. I have my routine though: go on at least one walking tour, maybe book one cultural experience, go to a bookstore, visit the market, and definitely have a go at their local food. And everything else? See next point.
Leave space for serendipity – The in-between is where the soul of a trip usually lives.
I don’t travel to tick a box or complete a checklist anymore. Now, I travel to be moved. And that can’t be scheduled.
Go Deeper
If your trip looks like everyone else’s Instagram feed, you’re probably doing it wrong. I don’t want the just highlight reel. Sure, they’re beautiful and sure I’ll probably go see it but I want the weird parts too. The cracks. The quiet. The local café where no one speaks English (have me speak their language, I’d do it with my big green and wide eyes out of fascination - language enthusiast right here!) and the coffee tastes like earth. The back alley bookstore that smells like forgotten decades.
Some guiding principles I try to follow:
Walk everywhere. You see more. You feel more.
Support small and local. Chains don’t need your money. That family-run guesthouse does.
Learn before you go. Not to show off, just to show up better.
I’ll leave you with this:
What’s the last place you visited? What did it teach you that you didn’t expect to learn?
And if you haven’t traveled recently, where do you dream of going? What’s calling you, quietly, like an old friend you haven’t seen in years?
Because maybe the journey isn’t just about the destination. Maybe it’s about what we let go of along the way, what we choose to hold, and what we allow to settle inside us after we leave. Maybe it’s not just about what we see, but how deeply we choose to see, how present we choose to be.
Let’s try to ask ourselves, on our next trip, wherever it may be:
What do you want to feel rather than just check off?
What would happen if, for once, you let the experience unfold without forcing the story? Can you trust the space between the plans to guide you to something you never expected?
Let the next time you travel be an invitation to listen, to connect, to simply be. And when you come back, carry something with you that’s not just a souvenir. Carry a quiet shift, a moment of understanding, a new way of seeing.
Wherever you go next, may you find yourself, and may it be exactly where you need to be.