Lessons learned from traveling to 50 countries

Don’t mistake novelty for personal growth

When you turn 10 in my family, you undergo a sacred family rite of passage — The 10 Year Old Trip. Upon entering double digits, each kid is allowed to pick any destination in the continental USA to fly to solo as long as there is someone to meet them on the other side.

My brother went to visit grandma in St. Louis. My sister went to visit cousin Elena at the University of Arizona. Pretentious little Simo read somewhere that Las Vegas was “America’s Playground,” so at nine and three quarters, I convinced my godmother to come meet me in Sin City.

I still remember the magic from the trip. I packed my little backpack like I was going into battle. I wore my standard yellow sweatpants and giants cap. The lanyard with my boarding pass hung heavy as my oversized smile. My pursuit of the path less traveled had begun.

It was 3 AM when my best friend called. I was 24, working at an ad agency in San Francisco. Travis was 9 hours ahead, living in Finland, but a call in the middle of the night was still out of the ordinary.

“Yo man, sorry to wake you up, but I’m not sure how much longer this is going to last.”

“What’s up dude?”

“I don’t know how I ended up here, but I’m on one of those FlyerTalk forums in the dark corners of the internet and they’re saying there’s a technical glitch on Travelosity.com.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know the travel site? Well if you enter this very specific itinerary from San Francisco to New York, New York to Milan, and eight days later from Prague to Ho Chi Minh City, you can get the round the world ticket for $240!”

That night, I bought the ticket. The next day I submitted my notice at work. A few weeks later I touched down in Vietnam. In the year that followed, I would call 21 countries home.

There was a moment I’ll never forget from that first day in Ho Chi Minh City. I was trying to shake off the jet lag with an early morning walk. An old man was reading a newspaper on the corner of an unassuming side street. There must have been something about the light, or his wrinkles, or perhaps just me, but I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

A snapshot that I had walked by thousands of times in my home city now glowed with the shine of a traveler’s mind. Maybe you know the feeling?

When this airplane touches down, I’ll arrive in my 50th country. I hear the Copenhagen airport is a breeze. In less than 20 minutes from passport control, I’ll be in the city center. I wonder if it’ll be as efficient as Brussels or Bangkok?

Before my 27th birthday, I’ve had to renew my passport twice to make room for new stamps. What a life! But as I travel more, I’m starting to notice something fundamentally change. The hubris of my travel experience has begun to show.

“My 50th country” contains a linguistic subtly that I resent in fellow travelers and myself. We tourists come to a country like Denmark, visit Copenhagen for a few days, Legoland, and maybe even spend some time hiking in Mols Bjerge National Park. Then, as if we were great 16th century explorers, proclaim “I’ve done Denmark — add it to the list!”

The game of traveling becomes one of acquisition. As we collect countries like baseball cards, each place becomes another node to compare and contrast. “The beaches in Croatia are nice, but it’s no Greece.”

But this is not why we travel. We travel in search of the incomparable nuance. To eat the best hummus of your life at the hole in the wall falafel stand when the trendy Tel Aviv restaurant next door doesn’t have available tables. To notice how “España” is pronounced in the South. To see how often the Airbnb hosts in Copenhagen use the word “cozy”.

When we are more concerned with the bucket list than the immediacy of our surroundings, the old man reading the newspaper on the corner dissolves into the the background.

I feel incredibly lucky to have seen a fraction of this beautiful planet. Who knows whether this will be my last big trip or if I’ll go on to see 50 countries more. Regardless, I hope I can remember a simple lesson backpacking has taught me.

Do not mistake novelty for personal growth.

You can visit a hundred countries or date a hundred people, but new perspective doesn’t need to be linked with new experiences. We can all find ways to find our beginner’s mind, wherever we call home.

I’ve got a short list of travel tips I give to people who ask. Be choosy about whose recommendations you follow, don’t assume the cabbie is going to rip you off, get the 45L backpack etc. But the most important lesson I’ve learned is that you can’t see it all. The quicker you realize you won’t see everything, the more you’ll be able to actually see what’s in front of you. I can’t tell you how freeing it is to skip a UNESCO Heritage Site.

I’ve started to spend my time abroad living my life as I would normally. Some of the moments I relish most are getting haircuts, going to yoga classes, and buying groceries.

In my past, I mistook seeing a lot for growing. In some ways they are related. Exposure to difference undoubtedly makes us confront our own views. But there’s also something vapid about jumping from city to city, hostel to hostel. Though landmarks and museums certainly crop well for highlights, personal growth comes in subtler forms than the instagrammed pictures would suggest.

Perhaps there’s no better example than the myriad times I’ve had to introduce myself while traveling. In a foreign place, you’re literally choosing how you want to present on a daily basis.

“Who are you?”

Walking into a room full of strangers may be a good way to start asking the question, but finding the answer begins on the way back home.