Does travelling improve your life?
After a year backpacking in Canada, a friend of mine doubted whether she’d be able to find a job.
How could she spin the trip to a future employer?
What would they think of it? Would they just see it as her frolicking around for a year, or would they recognise some merit in the whole ordeal?
When she was invited to her first post-travel job interview, she handled it differently than the other candidates.
Instead of a traditional question-and-answer session, she showcased her trip. Look at all these incredible things I saw, did, and learned.
And she got the job.
But did she get hired because of the travel, or despite it?
Did her travels really provide her with any genuinely useful knowledge, skills, or experience?
At the time of writing, my girlfriend and I are 18 months into a backpacking trip during which we’ve worked, volunteered, and sightseen across Europe, Asia, and Oceania.
With that in mind, this is a question close to my heart.
But before we can decide whether travelling is useful, we need to define what we mean by “travel.”
Travelling is a romanticised concept in the Western world.
It’s perceived as a way for fortunate young (and old) people to see the world, learn about different cultures and make friends from around the world — and have fun doing so.
But not all travel is the same.
Problem #1: travel varies radically.
A friend of mine celebrated his 21st birthday with a 2-week Mediterranean cruise.
The cruise-ship provided all his food, clean and comfortable accommodation and guided day trips to Rome, Venice and the other gems along the Mediterranean tourist trail — and all paid for by his parents.
Meanwhile, another friend spent a few years backpacking across the world.
His trip involved trudging through Norway in a perpetually damp state and riding a Siberian train packed with local gold miners to the remote end of Russia.
We could describe both of these trips as travel, yet their similarities are few.
There’s the 1st problem in answering the question: the experience of travel often varies widely.
What are the travellers intentions? How will they spend their time?
Will they volunteer and live with locals, or stroll around tourist traps and live in bars?
Will they stay in hotels, or home-stays? Travel by bus, or by plane?
Practise the local language, or make the locals practice theirs?
Eat the local food, or force them to remove the chilli?
Spend time in museums or in amusement parks?
How long will they travel? 2 weeks? A year? Indefinitely?
Of course, these aren’t binary questions. You can volunteer and spend time in tourist traps. You can frequent bars, while also taking an interest in local customs and culture.
But the experiences of a luxury cruise vs. trudging through remote wilderness are incomparable.
For the purposes of this discussion, I’m generally referring to so-called backpackers/backpacking when I refer to travellers/travelling.
The “backpacker” is generally characterised by:
- Youth
- Living out of a backpack
- A low budget
- A desire to meet people, learn and have fun
- Travelling for large stints of time, ranging from months to years
- Typically Western, but not always
- Willingness to endure less luxurious circumstances (e.g. basic accommodation, cheap food, etc.)
It’s a phase of life that some people go through after studies or after a few years of work.
Problem #2: who are you?
Okay — so we’re asking whether backpacking is a useful experience.
Yes, but that’s not the full story, either.
We also need to factor in who the backpacker is.
Backpacking is more useful to some people than others.
What kind of personality does the backpacker have?
For instance, are they independent and social, or dependent and shy?
If they’re shy, socially anxious or dependent on people (e.g. their parents), then backpacking will be stressful — but in the best possible way.
They’ll quickly learn that travel involves lots of socialising and that they have to be dependent on themselves (most of the time, at least).
They’ll routinely be outside of their comfort zone — and growing as a result.
As such, they’ll be forced to challenge these limitations and come out the other side a better person.
But if they’re already independent and social, this aspect of travel offers less opportunity for growth. (Or, of course, they may not consider these “limitations” to be weaknesses at all).
This is, of course, just one example. Travel will undoubtedly offer other benefits to such a person.
Another factor to consider is age. Younger people generally have less life experience than older people. It’s not always true, of course, but it’s often the case.
Older people may find that many of the backpacking experiences are familiar. They don’t challenge them.
Whereas younger people may be facing these challenges for the first time. That will put them out of their comfort zone and leave them with valuable life experience.
These points demonstrate that evaluating whether travel is useful must be done on a person-by-person basis.
As you read the rest of this essay, bare in mind that every sentence is proceeded by a huge invisible asterisk that links back to this sentence: everything depends on who you are and how you travel — every experience is different.
Why backpacking is useful.
Okay, so we’re asking whether backpacking is useful (while also noting that the question is hugely variable depending on who you are).
And is it useful?
I’m of the opinion that it is.
Any good backpacking trip should leave the traveller with a bunch of new and improved soft skills, a sprinkling of hard skills, and a lot of information, context and insight about history, culture and the world outside of their home.
All those skills, knowledge and experience make the experience extremely useful in my eyes.
But that’s all high-level chatter. Let’s drill a little deeper.
You learn to adapt.
Despite any romanticisations, **travelling is hard work.
You have to plan, organise and adapt on an almost daily basis.
It’s almost impossible to coast along day-to-day: you need to make decisions and act on them.
You need to decide where you’re going next, where you’re going to stay, how you’re going to eat, what you’re going to do, etc.
Plus, you’re often forced to think on your feet and navigate difficulty in even the simplest situations, like ordering a meal or finding an address.
Sometimes the process is smooth. Most of the the time, it isn’t.
Obstacles like language barriers, over-friendly locals, scammers, unfamiliar or uncomfortable environments, dirty hotel rooms and questionable food quality all endear to ruin your day.
By definition the backpacker has no choice but to practise adaptability, organisation, independence and patience on a daily basis.
You increase confidence.
Socialising is a cornerstone of the backpacking experience.
You’ll encounter curious locals vying for your attention, confused taxi drivers trying to decipher your needs, and fellow travelers eager to exchange stories.
Generally, backpackers are travelling in places where they are a minority, such as Asia or South America.
They stand out.
Some locals I met in countries such as Indonesia, Malaysia and India had only seen white people in movies. So, when they saw me and my girlfriend, naturally they were curious.
They often had the best intentions with their questions and stares, but I found such experiences intense.
Once in a village on Java, Indonesia, I ran past a primary school and every single child ran out of the school and chased me down the street.
Many backpackers experience something like this. It’s often impossible to avoid social interaction.
They’re like this, of course. There are locals who don’t put you on a bizarre pedestal, but instead actually treat you like a normal human. Then there’s the other travellers who can empathise with your experiences.
These interactions are the best way to learn about a place and its culture, to get travel advice and to have fun. It’s possibly the best thing about travel.
People who suffer with anxiety, shyness or have trouble with communication will find travelling to be the perfect antidote.
You learn to communicate
Travel is a chance your social confidence, but also an opportunity improve your communication, and perhaps the hard skills of language — whether a linga franca (e.g. English or French) or the local language.
Virtually none of the locals you meet will be native English speakers. Many won’t speak English at all.
This can be challenging. But it’s also an opportunity.
It’s a chance to learn the local language or to improve your own communication by making your speech clear and concise.
I’m English. When I’m in a group composed of different nationalities, I’m ironically often the hardest to understand.
That’s because most people who speak English as a second language have a more limited set of vocabulary that native speakers do, and they rarely use slang.
Like most Brits, my speech is full of slang, complex vocabulary and idioms.
Thus, Germans, Japanese and Argentinians are more likely to understand each other with their clear and concise English than me with my garbled regional dialect.
Travel has given me the opportunity to be mindful of that. Now, I can speak with a wider audience and still be understood.
Knowledge is king.
Reflecting on the last 18 months of travel, I realise that I have learnt so much about the world.
Where to start?
Some parts of my trip have been more insightful than others.
As a rule of thumb, the more a country differs from your own, the more there is to learn.
When I travelled to New Zealand and Australia, former British colonies and commonwealth nations who are also obsessed with the royal family, baked beans and tea, I didn’t learn so much (though I still learnt something).
When travelling in France and Germany, I learnt more.
But travelling through India and South East Asia is where the real insights began.
Everything felt exotic and interesting. New religions, culture, food, lifestyles, mindsets, art and so much more.
These differences aren’t just superficial, either.
While globalisation is swallowing up the world, there’s plenty of major differences between the West who are leading the globalising effort, and the rest of the world.
For instance, religion.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re spiritual or not. Religion has played, and still plays, a huge role in shaping the modern world.
In India and Indonesia religion is a cornerstone of everyday life. I hadn’t realised before travelling just how devout many Asians are.
Indonesian muslims awake at 6am to the sound of their local mosque humming the call to prayer and Hindus are awakening passionately to the rise of Modi’s extremist policies.
Religion and culture are just a couple of aspects of life that travelling can teach us about.
Through travel I’ve learnt tonnes about history, geography, nature, cuisine and so much more.
If you’re spending time with locals, visiting museums and places of worship or meandering through non-touristy spots (i.e. places where people actually live), you’ll invariably learn about the local culture.
Why does any of it matter?
India and Indonesia are two of the fastest growing economies in the world.
Islam is the fastest growing religious group.
India is officially the world’s most populous country, and Hinduism is the biggest religion.
It doesn’t matter that I don’t follow Islam or Hinduism. These nations, like many others, are hugely relevant on the world stage, and it’s useful to understand their cultures and global significance.
By learning about other cultures, you’ll develop a greater understanding of the world around you, whether close or far, and a deeper respect and appreciation for cultures that you may not have encountered before.
And nothing gives a better insight than 1st hand experience. **
You learn to understand.
The United Kingdom is an extremely diverse place with diasporas from across the world.
In my view, it’s a beautiful thing and one of the few positive outcomes of colonialism.
But housing so many cultures under a single roof invariably leads to tension — and conflict.
Much of this tension is caused by a lack of understanding.
South Asians make up a sizeable minority of Britain.
Many people don’t understand this group and this can lead to frustration.
But by spending time in India, I gained an understanding of Indian mindset — a mindset that the British South Asians often retain. I hope that when I return to the UK, I’ll have more empathy for this particular group.
The same rules apply elsewhere.
Many attribute the sharpness of Germans to rudeness. But spending time in Germany made me realise that they aren’t rude, they just find flowery and indirect conversations frustrating.
Everyone in Germany is as direct with themselves as they are with foreigners.
In Thailand, on the other hand, it’s all smiles and agreeability. People take great offence to confrontation, and avoid it all costs. Confronting someone can lead to them feeling deeply ashamed. Again, without having visited Thailand, I’d never have understood that.
(We actually met a Thai-German married couple on our travels. I’m sure there’s been a lot of discussion between them on this topic).
The list of examples are endless. By immersing yourself in another culture, you learn to understand it in very intangible ways, and you can begin to empathise when that culture comes into contact with your own.
You learn patience.
If you travel rurally, it’s likely you’ll meet someone who have never seen someone like you before.
I met Indonesians who had never seen a white person before. A Indian tour guide told me about his desire to meet a black person, as he’d only seen them in the movies.
There are many people who are used to “foreigners” but still find them interesting and novel.
It sounds fun to be such a novelty. In theory, at least.
In practise, I found the experience difficult.
It means as you’re walking around you’re being constantly harassed for photos, barked at with a range of comments and being followed by the eyes of everyone you pass.
Bule! bule! bule! is a common phrase the Indonesians barked at me. It loosely translates to “caucasian.”
Fun at first, perhaps. It quickly grew irritating and frustrating.
For a while, every time I heard bule or someone stared at me, I felt an urge to “school” them on “manners” or something ridiculous of this ilk.
Then I realised it is an opportunity. Whenever someone rudely vies for your attention, it’s an opportunity to practise patience.
And there are plenty of opportunities while backpacking.
(As an aside, it has also given me a lot of empathy for the plight of celebrities. It must be so frustrating to have a camera thrown in your face wherever you go).
You learn through osmosis.
Aside from everything I’ve learnt directly through museums, conversations, volunteering or working, there’s a whole host of things I’ve learnt simply by being exposed to a new place.
It’s the same as learning a new language — you learn more through the “osmosis” of being in a place than you ever could just by having your nose stuffed in Duolingo.
Somedays while travelling it has felt like I’ve done and learnt nothing.
But that’s not true. The sheer exposure to a new place is enough.
I actually know what people mean now when they talk about the places I’ve visited and the people that live there. I can visualise these places. In ways I can’t describe, I know something about how the people think and how they live.
This process of osmosis has taught me so much that I didn’t realise at the time, but which I now recognise.
You learn “real” skills.
It’s just as possible to learn how to weld, maintain a garden or lay bricks on the road as it is to practise patience, empathy and organisation.
While travelling, I’ve worked as a chef and a labourer and I’ve volunteered across farms and gardens, family homes and community projects via WWOOF and Workaway.
Through all this experience I’ve learnt a tonne of new skills, and honed a bunch of old ones.
I learnt everything from how to cook soufflé and braised lamb to welding, brick-laying, plastering and building a dry-wall to pruning tomatoes, weeding vegetables and making organic compost.
The list is extensive and there’s plenty of stuff I’m forgetting about.
But suffice it to say, over the past 18 months I’ve had more exposure to new skills than ever before in my life.
Gratitude for the life you lead.
Imagine a sweltering 8-hour journey in packed into a train, feet dangling in your face from the people sat above you and a person sat on the floor between your legs.
Or sleeping in a room with thousands of ants crawling along the walls and exploring the caverns of your backpack.
Perhaps stumbling through a busy market with every other person barking after you while you sweat profusely, knowing in a few hours you’ll be decimating your bathroom with vomit.
All of these situations happened to me, and many more like them.
Travelling is not always fun. In fact, it’s often as stressful as it is enjoyable.
But that’s a good thing.
These experiences make you grateful for what you have in your “normal” life.
When I lay down on the rock-hard bed watching the ants form a mosaic on the wall and listened to the pigeons shitting in the common area, I felt grateful for my comfortable bed back home.
When I sat with my head in a Kolkata toilet bowl after accidentally ingesting ice cubes, I felt grateful that I can drink the tap water in England.
When dogs and monkeys chased me in Malaysia, I felt grateful that I could run around Europe without worrying about wild animals.
When a gang of children in Mumbai surrounded me and pulled at my clothes and begged for cash, it broke my heart.
Travel has given me an immense sense of gratitude for the fortune life that I’ve been given. It is pure luck that I was born in England, and not as an orphan in Mumbai.
It could have been me who had one of my limbs amputated to make me a more effective beggar.
But it wasn’t.
Travelling showed me what that life looks like. I feel a deep sense of sorrow and sympathy for those who do lead that life, but seeing it has also enriched the gratitude I feel for my life.
So, is it actually useful?
Backpacking is a bittersweet experience. There are days I hate, but I also love large parts of it.
Either way, I will look back on the whole thing and be grateful that I did it.
Because I do find backpacking useful.
Not only because of everything I learnt through osmosis, all the hard and soft skills I’ve learnt or the enriched sense of gratitude, also because I had fun.
(I haven’t finished travelling yet, but I’m absolutely grateful for everything that has happened so far).
Perhaps that isn’t something an employer will care about, but it is something I do. I’m going to look back on these times with appreciation for the rest of my life.
Can I say the same for my working life?
Even if they don’t find the experience “useful,” I’ll never regret it.
