The air was crisp, phone batteries were drained, our buttocks were cold, and our skin was tanned. In the heart of Valletta, Malta, sitting under the shadow of the Upper Barrakka, sat two students, one from Barcelona and the other from London, witnessing perhaps the most beautiful sunset by the Mediterranean that they had ever seen. As the sky transitioned from a bruised purple to a defiant glowing amber, the two figures sat in silence, their legs dangling over the edge, unable to believe the fact that this moment in time was real.
They had just come across a Nepali immigrant named Sangeeta, who had been living in Malta for a year. She worked as a barista in a small cafe and was recently married to the man she loved. Together, they hope to build a life together in Valletta, their own cafe, where families would sit and sip hot chocolate with their kids before departing for the beach. Sangeeta was a sweetheart and offered a free Coca-Cola to the students and sent them on their way. During their time in Valletta, they visited her often; she made the best vanilla latte, and she quickly became one of the many new and unique people the students met during their tour.
“Where are you guys going next?” Sangeeta asked one fine evening, “Flying to Venice tomorrow, London the day after, and I am hoping to book that flight to Iceland tomorrow, just waiting on a friend,” said one of the students.
“Me? I’ll be in Venice with her, then Barcelona for a couple of days before leaving for Morocco for a week!” exclaimed the other.
As the light faded, their conversation turned toward the nature of their journey. Traveling in the past few months has become all-consuming. The thirst to see all they could, as much as they could, was insatiable. However, there is a tendency in travel writing to romanticize the “vagabond” lifestyle, but they were quick to ground their experience in reality. Whether you are staying in five-star villas or sleeping in twelve-bed hostel dorms, the act of international travel is an inherent exercise in privilege. To move across borders for the sake of “finding oneself” requires: Financial Independence, Global Mobility (the power of a passport determines which doors open and which remain locked), and The Luxury of Time, that is, being able to step away from responsibilities is a form of wealth that isn’t measured in currency. Recognizing this privilege doesn’t diminish the journey; rather, it adds a layer of responsibility to the traveler to be observant, grateful and deeply respectful of the spaces they are permitted to enter.
Once the reality of privilege is acknowledged, the true curriculum of travel begins. These are lessons that no university lecture or corporate seminar can replicate. Travel forces a radical development of situational and networking skills. It is as though the act itself forces you to become a version of yourself that appreciates the most innate parts of humanity, within yourself and outside in the world.
First, a skill that is a blessing of travel: navigation. In an age of reliance on GPS, we rarely get lost. But travel often breaks our technology. Learning to navigate an ancient city with a paper map, or by tracking the sun, a compass or by talking to locals builds a specific kind of cognitive resilience. It teaches you to trust your instincts and maintain a level head when the path forward isn’t clear. Panic becomes the default, but a state of calm is the development of travel instincts.
Further, when you don’t speak the local language, communication returns to its rawest form. You learn the nuances of tone, the warmth of a smile and the universal language of gestures. You become a master of empathy, realizing that human connection often exists in the spaces between words. You learn to say volumes without talking a lot and connect with people through their eyes, choices and taste rather than just words.
The truth is that in a new space, you are forced to be the “new person” every single day. This constant exposure therapy turns even the most introverted traveler into someone who can navigate a room of strangers. You learn how to build instant rapport, ask the right questions to unlock local secrets, and ultimately bridge cultural gaps through shared meals and stories.
Essentially, travel provides you with an internal library of “icebreakers.” But it isn’t just about having “crazy stories” to tell at a cocktail party; it’s about the experiential depth you gain.
When you travel, you aren’t just seeing new sights; you are witnessing different ways of existing. You become a mosaic of the places you’ve been, the experiences you’ve lived, and the people you’ve met. This makes you “interesting” not because in Paris you’ve seen the Eiffel Tower, but because you’ve explored Le Marais with a local who takes you to the best truffle storefront you have seen in your life. Keep traveling, and next thing you know, your flight attendant is DM-ing you for recommendations on which museum to visit in Reykjavík, Iceland.
You’ve learned that the world is much larger than your neighborhood, yet small enough that a stranger in a coastal town can become a lifelong friend over a single sunset. The physical benefits are the movement and the air, the mental benefits are the clarity and the grit, but the experiential benefit is the realization that you can handle whatever the horizon throws at you.