When I was 15, I fell in love with travel. It wasn’t about seeing famous landmarks or collecting passport stamps; it was about wonder. The curiosity about other cultures pulled me in. I devoured books, binged documentaries, and soaked up everything I could about the world beyond my hometown.
But somewhere along the way, travel started to lose its spark. The trips began to blur together. I fell into routines, and my journeys felt more like checklists than adventures. I forgot how transformative it could feel to connect deeply with new places, people, and perspectives.
Yet, every time I’m home, that pull to be back on the road comes rushing back. I love travel. I have to travel—not for the photo ops or bucket-list sites, but to see the world for myself. To learn. To connect. To live more fully.
Because no matter how different our day-to-day lives might look, fundamentally, we all share the same struggles, the same dreams, and the same human needs.
Rethinking How I Travel
I’ve been talking about “hanging up my passport.” But if I’m honest, I don’t want to stop traveling. Travel is part of my identity—it’s shaped who I am.
What I do want is to travel differently. To travel with intention. To go deeper.
Over the past year or two, I’ve realized that my travels have felt…shallow. I’ve been living in incredible places, but I haven’t truly experienced them. I’ve missed the curiosity that used to drive me—the kind that makes you ask questions, dig beneath the surface, and find connection.
So, I want to change that. I want to visit places that require more effort, intention, and immersion. The places that stretch you in unexpected ways. I don’t want to just pass through—I want to show up.
One of the most meaningful travel experiences I’ve ever had wasn’t about sightseeing. It wasn’t about chasing a bucket list. It was a medical mission trip to Guatemala—a chance to see life from a completely different perspective and give back in ways that felt small to me but were life-changing for others.
A Day with Miguel
On the first day of the clinic, I met Miguel, a young boy who stayed by my side all day. My role was to document the trip through photos and video, but I also helped distribute reading glasses and played with the kids while they waited to be seen by the nurses.
At one point, Miguel tugged on my sleeve while we were coloring. He spoke quietly, and I only caught fragments of what he was saying—something about his dad, reading, and their church. I asked José, one of our translators, to help.
Miguel explained that his dad worked at the church but couldn’t read the Bible. His dad hadn’t come to the clinic because he was working on a house that day, but Miguel asked if we could send glasses home for him.
With José’s help, we called Miguel’s dad, figured out his prescription, and sent him home with two pairs of reading glasses.
Later that day, Miguel handed me a coloring page he’d filled in—matching the same colors I’d used on mine.
We didn’t speak the same language, but that didn’t matter. We formed a connection that went beyond words. And that moment reminded me why I travel: for the people, for their stories, for the humanity we share.
Travel Beyond the Surface
For me, the pull of travel is in the people and the cultures that make each place unique. It’s in the unexpected connections, the shared laughs, and the moments of mutual understanding.
It’s in experiences like my day with Miguel in Guatemala—where a simple conversation, a pair of glasses, and a shared coloring page bridged language barriers and created a connection I’ll never forget.
Ask Yourself: Why Do You Travel?
Or, if travel isn’t your thing: Why do you do what you do?
What’s pulling you forward? What’s the thing that makes you curious, that makes you feel alive?
Take a moment to reflect. When you connect with your “why,” everything becomes more meaningful.
