Skip to main content

The Experience of Travel

There is more to travel than itineraries and guidebooks. Travel should be an experience. A time to try something new. To discover a new place. To step out of one’s comfort zone. To make the most of my travel experience, I try to remember four guidelines:

Eat somewhere . . . or something . . . new:
Travel is a time of discovery. Discovering new places. Meeting new people. That discovery should also extend to dining. When traveling, I always try to eat a new type of food. If the options are limited, then I at least try to find a restaurant where I have never eaten. Even if it is a city I have visited many times, I still look for these new foods.

Go where the locals go:
Guidebooks can provide great information on any number of destinations. They can offer suggestions on sites to see, places to stay, even how to get from place to place. But, they cannot cover everything. Sometimes, the best recommendations can come from local residents. Whether it is a friend who lives in the city or the concierge at the hotel, do not be afraid to ask locals for their recommendations.

Take photos:
In the days after returning from a trip, the memories are fresh in one’s mind. The sights, sounds, and experiences of the trip can be easily recalled. But, as time passes, the memories may become less and less vivid. One way to ensure that travel will always be recalled is to take photos. Photos of the places visited. Photos with the people you visited. With these visual reminders, vacations will be remembered for some time to come.

See the city by foot:
Only so much of a location can be seen speeding by in a car or bus. If you have the opportunity - and it is safe to do so - explore the city by foot.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Catch A Cab

We had been walking for about forty-five minutes, making our way from Manhattan’s South Street Seaport to the Macy’s flagship store on 34th Street. When we were within fifteen blocks of our destination, some of my companions decided that we should complete our journey by cab. Despite my attempts to convince them to keep walking, they were insistent. The trip that ensued was a true New York experience. After a few minutes of trying, one of my companions was able to hail a cab. However, we wanted to go north. The cab that stopped was going south. It did not seem to matter, though, as my companions still got in the cab. One person sat in the front while I slipped into the backseat, between the other two. Hardly before the doors could close, the driver had fought his way into Manhattan traffic. Without warning, he took a sharp right turn onto a side street and began to head north, steadily increasing his speed. Within seconds, the cab was weaving a

When in Rome . . . or Seattle

What was I doing here? I do not even drink coffee. Besides, all of these places basically look the same. This place was no different, really. What was the point of my being here? I had no intention of ordering coffee. Yet, there I was, standing in a tiny Starbucks Coffee shop in Seattle. I was not alone. The store was packed to the point where I could hardly move. While most of the people in the store had a drink in hand, I spotted a few who, like me, were just looking around. In any other city, this might have seemed exceedingly strange, going to Starbucks with no intention of getting coffee. But, this was different. This was the first Starbucks. Seattle and coffee are somewhat linked. It was in Seattle that coffee became a pastime. What was once a drink largely reserved for mornings and evening meals, became a day-long obsession. Granted, Starbucks is just another large corporation. But, it was in Seattle that Starbucks began. Seeking out the first store see

Looking At My Luggage

More than twenty four hours had passed since I had arrived in Washington, D.C. My luggage was still nowhere to be found. Despite the promises of the airline’s agents, my missing suitcase had not yet been delivered. With no other alternative, I had spent the day touring Washington in the clothes that I had worn a day earlier. Clothes that I was still wearing. A full day had passed. My friend and I had returned to her house from dinner to find that my belongings remained missing. I promptly began calling the airline, trying to track down my baggage. The agent assured me that my luggage had been located and dropped off at my friend’s home by a delivery service the previous evening. I assured her that it had not been delivered. After more than fifteen minutes of her continued assurances, I was transferred to the delivery service. As with the airline, the delivery service assured me that my luggage had been dropped off, going so far as to give me a specific time at which i