The Right Time To Travel

For a long time, I thought I wished I'd started traveling sooner.

It seemed obvious.

The earlier you begin, the more places you'll see.

The more experiences you'll collect.

The more time you'll have.

I don't think that anymore.

Not because I started too late.

Because I'm no longer convinced every destination belongs to every version of ourselves.

I Sometimes Wonder What Would Have Happened If I'd Arrived Earlier

Not years earlier.

A different version of me earlier.

Would 23-year-old me have loved Madeira?

I don't think so.

She would have admired the scenery, taken the photos, and immediately started looking for what came next.

The version of me who finally arrived there wanted something entirely different.

Long walks.

Slow mornings.

Ocean air.

An afternoon with nowhere specific to be.

Madeira didn't change.

I did.

Some Trips Only Make Sense In Reverse

Looking back, I can see how each destination arrived at exactly the right point in my life.

Southeast Asia found me when I needed independence.

I needed to prove to myself that I could navigate the world on my own.

Peru arrived after I'd learned to stop rushing through every itinerary.

Mexico became the first trip where slowing down felt natural instead of wasteful.

The Dominican Republic wasn't only about discovering a new country. It was about understanding someone I loved through the place that shaped him.

At the time, they felt like separate trips.

Now they feel connected.

I Used To Think Travel Was About Collecting Places

There was always another country.

Another flight.

Another stamp in my passport.

Another list waiting to be checked off.

Somewhere along the way, that changed.

Now I find myself remembering entirely different things.

The café I wandered into because it started raining.

The conversation that lasted longer than dinner.

The neighborhood I returned to three times for no reason other than it felt good to be there.

I don't think my memories changed.

I think my attention did.

I Don't Think Youth Owns Travel

There's a certain romance attached to traveling young.

Backpacks.

Hostels.

Saying yes to everything.

Having enough energy to believe you'll sleep when you get home.

I'm grateful I had those years.

I wouldn't replace them.

But I don't believe they were the best years to travel.

They were simply the right years for the person I was then.

Maybe Every Age Sees A Different World

I don't think the streets themselves change.

Or the mountains.

Or the cafés.

The person walking through them does.

The same city can feel completely different depending on what you're looking for when you arrive.

Sometimes you're searching for adventure.

Sometimes rest.

Sometimes confidence.

Sometimes perspective.

And sometimes you're simply paying enough attention to notice what was there all along.

I Wouldn't Rearrange The Timeline

If I could go back and visit every country earlier, I don't think I would.

Not because earlier would've been worse.

Because it would've been different.

Some places found me before I knew I needed them.

Others waited until I was finally capable of seeing what they had been offering all along.

I like believing that's part of travel too.

Not every destination is waiting for us.

Some are waiting for the right version of us.