For some people, long-term travel is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, while for others it becomes a lifelong passion. I fall into the latter camp and have bookended my 10 years of adventures thus far with two epic trips.
Before the second period of globetrotting, I had my doubts: Would I ever recreate the joy of that first trip? Could I still handle life on the road? Here’s what I learned while spending four months backpacking in my 20s and again in my 30s.
Technology Has Transformed Travel for Good
I realized something was amiss last year when I arrived at a hostel common room in Flores, Guatemala, dropped my bags, and was met with… no eye contact, no hellos, nothing. Each of my fellow travelers was glued to a laptop, phone, or tablet. While smartphone zombies in commuter-clogged cities like London are a common sight, I wasn’t prepared for this.
During my first round-the-world trip in 2011, backpackers rarely traveled with expensive tech, free from digital distraction, aside from the occasional hour spent video calling home and uploading photos at overpriced internet cafes. Serendipitous encounters occurred regularly, and ironically, without the shackles of social media, people were more social.
However, it’s not all doom and gloom. What we might lose in organic conversation today, we gain in practical tools. Being able to book hostels, transport, and experiences on the go made my recent Central America trip feel seamless, and mapping apps made it almost impossible to get lost. Today, I am dependent on Google for my navigational needs, despite having once traversed Kuala Lumpur quite happily with only a hand-drawn map.
This evolution will undoubtedly continue—the next life-changing travel app might be just around the corner—but I’ll always look back fondly on that period in my 20s, pre-ubiquitous free Wi-Fi, when sparking conversation with strangers was easier.
Your Body is the Ultimate Travel Tool – Use It
At 22, I had a list of body hang-ups as long as an unraveled hammock, but solo travel soon changed that. Countless hikes—up O’ahu’s Diamond Head, through Queensland’s ancient rainforests, and around Thailand’s hilltop temples—made me see my sturdy thighs as strong instead of something I wanted to shrink. My broad shoulders still seemed wider than I’d have liked in a bikini, but they bore the weight of my backpack like nobody’s business.
I put my body through a lot, and it served me well. With every extra passport stamp came more confidence, gratitude, and perspective. Over time, I realized that without these limbs, lungs, and love handles of mine, I’d never have made it around the world alone. Travel has taught me that bodies are for celebrating, not berating.
In my 30s, I’m now more concerned with the perils of aging than aesthetics, such as sun damage and dodgy knees. Hotel beds wreak havoc on my crick-prone neck, and being hungover in the heat is no longer bearable, yet I do it all anyway because life is short—and I hope I’m still young enough to say this—YOLO.
Travel is a Privilege – Proceed with Care
Overtourism existed long before it started hitting the headlines in 2018. I witnessed it firsthand in Maya Bay, the idyllic Thai setting for The Beach, which closed indefinitely to tourists last year. Seven years before the closure, my heart sank as our speedboat jostled for space in the overcrowded cove, cluttered with people. I joined the throng, waiting patiently to take a picture that would give the illusion of a secluded paradise while harboring a growing sense of guilt. It’s easy to resent others for getting in your way when traveling, until you realize you’re no different.
Fortunately, responsible travel is on the rise. Reusable water bottles are now commonly seen on the road, elephant rides have fallen out of favor as their negative impact on the animals’ health has been exposed, and sustainable hotels are increasingly sought after. For my latest big trip, I chose lesser-visited destinations, took fewer flights, and ensured the money I spent went back to local communities. However, I acknowledge that I must do even more to offset the impact of my travels next time. As the climate change movement progresses, the way we perceive the world will change dramatically.
A Bigger Budget Doesn’t Always Mean Better Experiences
I’m fortunate enough to have stayed in an overwater villa in the Maldives, enjoyed a private plunge pool in the Caribbean, and eaten lobster in Mauritius. I’ve also slept in grimy 20-bed dorms, eaten tuna out of a can for lunch for days on end, and washed my clothes in hostel sinks—all in the name of saving precious pennies—and I wouldn’t change that for anything.
These days, although I’m still budget-conscious, I have a better financial safety net than 22-year-old me ever had. The option to splurge occasionally feels liberating, but experiencing both sides of the coin has taught me that a tight budget doesn’t mean you have to miss out, and luxury won’t always lead to the best memories.
Escaping Your Comfort Zone Should Be a Lifelong Ambition
The prospect of solo travel in my early 20s felt daunting, but I did it anyway. Sky-diving was emphatically not on my to-do list, but after a (drunken) pact, I threw myself out of a plane. During that first trip, I placed my trust in strangers and embraced unpredictable situations with a gusto and naivety that only carefree youngsters possess; I leaned into the thrill of saying yes more and reaped the benefits. However, the older you get, the more difficult it becomes to ignore the “what ifs” in the back of your mind. It’s easier to settle into routine and cling to creature comforts, which is why, even after countless travel experiences, it becomes harder for me to take risks.
I let fear get the better of me while learning to surf in Nicaragua. I’m no water baby, and the strong Pacific waves were intimidatingly large. As I entered the ocean, a massive wave loomed ahead. In a panic, I couldn’t decide whether to lift the board or push it beneath the surface to clear it… too late. My board rushed up to my face—smack! I flipped backwards, the tide dragging me to shore in a tangle of safety cord and bloody foam. My mistake? Not embracing the challenge with the enthusiasm of my younger self. I learned that hesitation can cause significant pain, and the only way to build confidence in the face of the unknown is to confront your fears more often.
