Travel is great. I highly recommend it. Most people travel for the usual reasons—to see the world, experience new cultures, take a break from their daily grind, or just relax. Every single one of them, a noble pursuit in itself, is enough to justify any misadventures.
But, let me add, perhaps, the best reason to travel: self-discovery.
No, not the Eat, Pray, Love kind, where you find your soul, or your soulmate. I’m talking about discovering traits you didn’t even know you had—or didn’t know you had to that extent. Traits that, it turns out, others might find a tad (or more) annoying. Traits that are amplified, and therefore obvious, when you are several time zones (and comfort zones) away.
Here’s how I know this is true: Nearly two weeks into my European vacation in a country where I don’t speak the language, I've had several teachable moments. And I figured, why keep all the entertainment (and the embarrassments) to myself? Might as well share the joy. Here we go…
The anticipation is more fun
I planned this trip (I'm currently on) months ago. I know some people consider the planning process onerous. Not me.
There are many reasons to love (and loathe) the internet, but for me, one of its greatest gifts is that it allows me to take charge of every facet of travel planning. I love the process: creating checklists, mapping an ambitious (or, as some may say, delusionally optimistic) itinerary, spending more hours reading TripAdvisor reviews for hotels than I actually spend in them, booking tours, and so on.
And to be perfectly honest, the days after the itinerary is set and before the trip begins are the golden period—the sweet spot of anticipation.
It’s like that glorious time after you’ve handed in your two weeks’ notice at a job but haven’t started the new one yet. You’re busy bidding farewell to coworkers, still showing up to work out of obligation, but aware that you don’t have to face the consequences anymore. And you’re not riddled with the responsibilities of establishing yourself or proving your mettle in your new job.
Ah, the fun. The freedom.
But once the trip actually begins, there are always surprises—some delightful, others... bumpy! That 3 p.m. tour sounded like a great idea back when I booked it, but I hadn’t accounted for the 90-degree heat, the blazing sun, or the joy of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a few hundred other sweaty tourists.
And when that gorgeous boutique hotel turns out to be a cramped shoebox, I remind myself about Photoshop and Insta filters, and a healthy dose of “What was I thinking?” Maybe this is why some Travel Planners still have jobs?
Mostly, though, the hardest part is shifting from planning mode to being mode. I have to remind myself not to turn the trip into a box-checking exercise—or worse, not to constantly badger my family into declaring, on cue, that this is the best experience of their life, because I, of course, planned it.
The FOMO is real
I’m often accused by my teen daughter of having “debilitating FOMO,” especially when I ask her what she’s doing on her phone all the time! But, notwithstanding the Gen-Z exaggeration, I think it’s time for me to confess that her accusation has a kernel of truth to it.
My FOMO is real. Particularly on vacations.
I thought I knew these incontrovertible truths:
Vacation time is limited.
Fatigue (and jet lag) is real.
Therefore, by the rules of logic, there are only so many things you can do, places you can see, and most importantly, stuff you can eat. I have a hard time accepting this fact. Which means, I end up ruining perfectly good moments, lamenting the dinners we didn’t have, or the sunsets we failed to watch.
The fear of loss is irrational
Maybe it’s the years of conditioning. But I can’t get over these earworms that start playing in my head the minute I leave the house to go on vacation.
Don’t lose your passport.
Don’t lose your wallet.
Don’t lose your belongings.
I get it. In a foreign land, especially when you’re hopping from place to place, you need a heightened sense of awareness to keep track of not just where you are, but also where your things are. Every time we get off the taxi, bus, train, or plane, it’s the same drill: headcount, luggage check, sanity check!
Which is why I’ve become a jumpy traveler with an irrational fear of losing my possessions. This explains why I mourned the loss of my hand sanitizer more than I needed to. My family found it hilarious. I saw it as a foreboding sign of what else could’ve gone missing.
All this said, traveling is both a privilege and a necessity. I wouldn’t trade my time away from home—exploring, fretting, panicking, and drowning in FOMO—for anything else. On the contrary, I’d love to have a six-month vacation twice a year!