A Postcard from the Universe: How Travel Helped Me Rediscover Myself

Why Packing a Bag Can Unpack Who You Truly Are

The first time I traveled alone, I overpacked in a way that would make Marie Kondo cry. I had this irrational fear that forgetting my favorite leather jacket or the "perfect" pair of boots would ruin my trip. The irony? I wore neither. Somewhere between lugging an overstuffed suitcase across Berlin’s cobblestone streets and realizing I’d only packed one adaptor for three devices, I had an epiphany: we bring too much of ourselves on journeys and forget to leave space for discovery.

Travel has long been touted as a soul-stirring experience, and while it’s true that jet-setting to far-off destinations teaches you about culture, geography, and the kind of food that qualifies as "street meat," the most profound lessons are about yourself. So, let me unpack—both literally and metaphorically—the surprising truths I’ve learned about who I really am, one boarding pass at a time.

1. You’re Not as Chill as You Think You Are

There’s a moment every traveler knows: standing defeated at baggage claim while realizing your bags are still in Lisbon, while you, somehow, are in Berlin. It’s the kind of plot twist even Hitchcock couldn’t dream up. When it happened to me, I’d been traveling for 14 hours, was running on three hours of airplane “sleep” (you know, the kind where you wake up every 15 minutes to adjust your neck pillow), and I cracked. Not externally, mind you—no yelling at airline agents here—but internally. Oh, I cracked. My carefully curated "laid-back" persona frayed one travel inconvenience at a time.

What I learned? Pretending to be "chill" is exhausting. Travel has a way of confronting you with your emotional limits, and it forces you to reckon with them. These days, I’ve embraced what I call "strategic neuroticism." I accept my tendency to plan, double-check, and ask too many questions. But now, when life replaces my five-star itinerary with a two-star reality, I only spiral for five minutes instead of five hours. Progress.

Takeaway: Embrace your quirks, but don’t let them ruin your trip—or your vibe.

2. You’re More Resilient Than You Realize

Hong Kong taught me something invaluable: never underestimate the mental clarity that comes from figuring out public transit without speaking the local language. Navigating the MTR subway system involved more than maps; it required courage and just the right amount of reliance on strangers. I once found myself accidentally disembarking at the wrong station late at night, with a dead phone and a city that speaks faster than I can think. It sounds like a nightmare, but something magical happened—I tapped into a version of myself that could solve problems under pressure.

By the time I stumbled into my hotel lobby, I felt like MacGyver. (Who knew deciphering Cantonese signage could make you feel like TV’s ultimate problem solver?) No Google Translate, no backup plans—just faith and ingenuity.

This sense of capability? It transfers back to real life. Now, when navigating a difficult conversation or making a split-second decision in work or relationships, I remind myself, If I found my way in Hong Kong with nothing but broken Mandarin and a metro card, I can definitely address this awkward dinner party conflict.

Takeaway: You’re capable of more than you think—test yourself, and be surprised.

3. Peeled Layers Reveal Delicious Truths

Here’s the thing about skyline selfies and Instagram-worthy meals: they don’t mean much when you’ve spent a solid week in Berlin eating nothing but döner kebab because you’re too exhausted to figure out grocery shopping. Somewhere in that week, it hit me—travel did something extraordinary. It stripped away the polished, curated version of myself and left behind someone, dare I say, more interesting.

I wasn’t worrying about how I looked or whether I seemed impressive; I was being. Eating cheap takeaway out of necessity grounded me in a way filet mignon never could. Sure, my backpacker days are over (my knees prefer luxury), but the lesson remains: when you travel, vanity and pretension slip away, and you might just like who you are underneath.

In dating and relationships, this lesson hits just as hard. Sometimes, your real connection sparks not when you’re trying to impress someone, but in the unfiltered moments—the rambling late-night chats, the messy vulnerability of admitting you've got fears or flaws. Travel doesn’t care about who you pretend to be. It cares about who you are when all pretenses are down. That’s where the magic is.

Takeaway: Shed the metaphorical döner kebab wrappers—authenticity is more delicious than perfection.

4. Loneliness Isn’t the Enemy You Think It Is

Confession: I used to be terrified of eating alone. The idea of sitting at a restaurant solo, while couples clink wine glasses and groups laugh melodically, felt like character development in a Nicholas Sparks novel. But then I spent a summer hopping from city to city—solo—and quickly realized that the most liberating experiences I’ve ever had were the ones without companions.

Sitting alone at a Parisian café with nothing but my thoughts felt brave, like staring myself down in a mirror and refusing to look away. I learned to hear myself clearly, to process without distraction. Travel alone long enough, and you stop fearing silence. You start craving it.

When you strip away all the noise—social media, relationships, work obligations—you make space for something rare: introspection. In that introspection, you might just find clarity about what you really want, whether that’s in love, work, or life itself. As they say, “You can’t pour from an empty cup,” but solo travel taught me to fill my own.

Takeaway: Date yourself first. Know yourself deeply before expecting anyone else to.

5. “Home” Is a Moving Target

After a particularly transformative trip to Berlin, complete with vinyl shopping sprees and immersive local exhibitions, I returned to Brooklyn thinking, “Wow, my city feels so…loud.” It was as though travel had re-tuned my internal rhythm, and Brooklyn, majestic but relentless Brooklyn, suddenly seemed a bit out of sync.

But here’s the kicker: no matter where I went—Berlin, Hong Kong, the French countryside—I realized home wasn’t about geography. It was about where I felt known. Where I felt free to be Julian without the curated gloss. Travel didn’t change my love for Brooklyn; it deepened it. It reminded me why I loved browsing my local indie bookstore, or people-watching over an overpriced macchiato on Smith Street.

It also taught me that “home” doesn’t have to be static. Whether it’s a person, a place, or even just a mindset, travel reminds you that your definition of home can be fluid—and that’s okay.

Takeaway: Home is wherever you bring your truest self.

Final Boarding Call

At its core, travel isn’t about where you go—it’s about who you become along the way. It strips you bare, confronting you with your insecurities, your strengths, and (if you’re lucky) your best self. Sure, you may miss a flight or botch a translation or overpack like it’s an Olympic sport. But every moment offers a window into who you are beyond your daily routine.

So, if you’re wondering whether it’s time to book that ticket: do it. Pack (lightly), hop on the plane, and brace yourself for a version of you that’s slightly more flustered but infinitely more interesting. Remember, the road to a richer self is full of layovers, street food, and sometimes lost luggage.

Your journey—to the places and through the parts of yourself you haven’t met yet—will be worth every step. Safe travels, my friend.