Have you ever borrowed someone else’s suitcase for a trip? It starts out innocent enough—a quick favor, no big deal—but soon you’re reaching for the front pocket only to find it zips the opposite way. Or maybe you discover the handle is too short, and now you’re clumsily dragging it through the airport like an amateur sherpa. Traveling, I’ve realized, is a lot like borrowing that suitcase. It forces you to carry parts of the world you’re not used to—its quirks, its surprises—and guess what? You’re better for it.

Growing up, most of my life was rooted in Lake Tahoe’s pine-scented familiarity, where the mountains stood sentinel and the stars told the same story every night. But stepping out of my comfort zone to explore other parts of the world taught me that a "comfortable life" can sometimes feel like wearing sweatpants seven days a week—cozy, yes, but not exactly inspiring. Here are a few lessons travel has taught me about myself, and why I think everyone could use a plane ticket or an open road to remind them who they really are.

1. I’m Not as “Go-With-the-Flow” as I Thought

I like to think of myself as pretty laid-back. After all, I grew up in a place where the biggest decision most summers was whether to hike before or after lunch. But then I found myself at a train station in Italy where my 9:27 a.m. train left promptly at 9:17. Apparently schedules in Tuscany are more of a suggestion. I stood there, fuming, holding my comically large water bottle and a sandwich I wasn’t hungry for.

It took about an hour of wandering the cobblestone streets (and three scoops of gelato) for me to accept that sometimes, things just don’t go according to plan. What travel taught me is this: It’s okay to feel irritated when life messes with your schedule. But surrendering control doesn’t equal losing control. Some of my best memories—an impromptu wine tasting with strangers, a downhill bike ride into the middle of a flower field—came from plans that went completely sideways.

Takeaway: Be organized enough to have a plan, but flexible enough to throw it away when the unexpected crops up. Sometimes the best moments aren’t the ones you planned for.

2. Alone Doesn’t Mean Lonely

Solo travel scared the hell out of me at first. Would I feel lonely eating pasta by myself? Would people stare? (Spoiler: They didn’t, unless it was to compliment my ability to inhale spaghetti with alarming speed.) But one quiet afternoon in Portland, Oregon, as I journaled in a coffee shop that smelled like roasted dreams and optimism, I realized that solitude isn’t something to escape—it’s something to savor.

There’s magic in spending a day with your own thoughts. When you’re not tuned into the expectations of a friend, a partner, or a travel buddy, you’re free to reconnect with the things that make you tick. For me, that meant people-watching at farmers' markets, challenging myself to hike unfamiliar trails, and taking the time to notice the smallest, quietest parts of life—like the way light filters through tree branches or how an old bookstore feels like a hug.

Takeaway: Dating yourself while traveling is just as important as dating someone else back home. Spend time alone, and you’ll bring a stronger sense of self to every relationship.

3. Nature Has a Way of Putting You in Your Place

Growing up around the serene shores of Tahoe, I thought I had a pretty good grasp on nature’s power to humble you. But then I found myself standing at the base of Mount Rainier, its snow-capped peak piercing the sky like some kind of mythic guardian. Instantly, all my worries—like why that hiking guy from Bumble ghosted me or when I’d hit my next career milestone—seemed absurdly small.

Traveling to wild spaces teaches you humility. It reminds you that the world is older, bigger, and more complicated than any of us. It's not an insult, though—it's an invitation to breathe a little deeper and to stop taking everything (yourself included) so seriously. And yes, I did cry at a sunset over Crater Lake once, but trust me, it was the good kind of cry. Nature strips away all the noise and leaves you with the essentials.

Takeaway: When you feel like the world revolves around you, go find a waterfall or a mountain. Let it remind you that your problems are temporary, but beauty is forever.

4. People Are Actually Pretty Amazing

As someone who spent a significant amount of time working solo in wilderness areas, I used to think I didn’t need people to feel fulfilled. Then came a rainstorm in Vancouver that stranded me at a bus stop, where an older woman with a flower-printed umbrella offered me half of her last granola bar. That simple generosity ruined my lone wolf narrative in the best way possible.

Travel taught me that people—even strangers—will surprise you with their kindness. From the street vendor in Hanoi who helped me pronounce "pho" correctly to the lodge owner in Wyoming who let me borrow hiking boots when mine fell apart, the human connections I’ve made on the road have blown me away. You learn to appreciate how diverse yet fundamentally similar people are, and it gives you faith in something bigger than yourself: community.

Takeaway: Trust the kindness of strangers sometimes—it reminds you of the goodness that exists in everyone, even on days when it feels hard to believe.

5. You’re More Resilient Than You Think

Picture this: You’ve got food poisoning in Iceland, your credit card gets denied, and oh, it’s snowing sideways. That was my literal reality in Reykjavik once, as I stumbled from one convenience store to another chasing canned soup like it was the Holy Grail. And while at the time it felt like I might die, spoiler: I didn’t. I bounced back, felt better, and went on to see the Northern Lights that same week.

Travel kind of forces you into resilience. When things go wrong, you can’t just curl up in your own bed with your Netflix queue for backup (well, unless you’re traveling with Wi-Fi and your bed in tow—but that’s called glamping, and I digress). Surviving inconveniences, mishaps, or full-on disasters on the road teaches you this invaluable truth: “I can handle more than I thought.”

Takeaway: Remember that bad days—whether at home or halfway across the world—don’t last forever, but your ability to persevere does.

The Heart of the Journey

Travel is funny like that. It pulls you out of your routine, drops you in unfamiliar places, and tells you: "Figure it out." And in the process? You do. You discover new foods (some great, some questionable), meet new people (some lifelong friends, some just passing by), and—most importantly—learn a little more about yourself.

For me, the lessons I’ve gathered as a reluctant wanderer have seeped into every corner of my life. They’re there when I’m navigating the early days of a new romance, figuring out how to meet someone halfway. They step in during conflicts—reminding me to stay open, adaptable, curious. And yes, they’re even there on first dates, when I pull an obscure story from my travels to break the ice. (The Moroccan camel incident, for another time.)

So here’s my advice: Get out there. Say yes to seeing the world—even if your initial “yes” comes with a side of fear or uncertainty. Take the trip. Climb the mountain. Borrow the weird suitcase. Traveling might not resolve all your existential questions, but it sure as hell makes the journey more interesting.

And really, isn’t that kind of the point?