What 10 Years of Frequent Travel Has Taught Me

I have been fortunate to travel to at about 50 different countries in the last 10 years, some of them several times. I have inevitably come to a phase of life where I am traveling less, and with that stillness comes reflection on my past experiences There are a lot of deep and hard lessons I’ve learned about myself, and how and why I travel—but here are 10 of the quicker takeaways I’ve gathered.

1. Travel slows time

They say that time moves faster the older you get. I’ve heard people frequently say “where did the last (x amount of time) go?” And when they do, I rarely feel like that amount of time has come and gone all that quickly for me. When I’ve been at home and working at a desk job for weeks or months, yes—time does blur together and fly by. A month will pass with nothing that stands out in my mind except for the weekends and paydays.

But because I seek to fill my life with unique and memorable experiences of all types, I will look back on a year—and so many adventures will stand out, both large and small. When I think of the past 5 or 10 years, I think of so many places across the world I have been, people I have met, and ways that I have changed and grown. Just compare two weeks of showing up to your job, versus a two week trip anywhere else. The trip may feel like it flies by, but every day of those two weeks in an interesting, unfamiliar place you will be present in the moment. I think that the key to slowing time is filling it with as many unique and memorable experiences as possible.

2. Solo travel is easier than traveling with a partner

I love traveling with my husband. But if I’m honest, I often have an easier time traveling alone.

Solo travel = zero compromise. You do what you want, when you want. There are no arguments about sleep schedules or where to eat. Travel is stressful—jet lag, logistics, hangry meltdowns. When things go wrong, it’s easy to take it out on the person next to you.

I’ve been in a 15-year relationship. Alone time is sacred. Solo trips help me remember who I am outside the relationship. They make me more open, curious, independent. When you’re alone, you seek interaction. And people seek you out, too. When meeting people of the opposite sex, I always clarify that I’m married, but I love the conversations and energy that come with showing up as a solo person in the world.

My Nagano ski trip in February 2025 was open ended and flexible, so it was easy to change my plans from skiing to visiting the snow monkey park when I wasn’t feeling up for skiing.

3. Plan 50/50

I used to be meticulous about trip planning. When I had a full-time job, planning was my escape from monotony—I’d have a dozen browser tabs open comparing flights, hotels, reading travel blogs, shopping for outfits and camera gear. By the time the trip came around, every day was booked with highly rated TripAdvisor stays.

That level of planning pays off if you want value and smooth logistics—great hotels, tours, restaurants get booked up. But as I started traveling more regularly, I had less time (or energy) to plan every detail. I began leaving holes in my itinerary—booking one-way flights and figuring it out on the fly. It cost me a little more at times, and occasionally meant staying somewhere less-than-ideal (gasp: sub–8 star Booking.com reviews). But I opened myself up to experiences I never could’ve planned: local tips, spontaneous invitations, moments that feel like real travel—not just tourism.

I haven’t gone full no-plan mode, because I know myself—I need at least a few comfortable, fun, and photogenic things locked in. But the sweet spot? Half structure, half go with the flow.

Me, my friend Sally, and the lovely women we met and hiked with on the Salkantay Trail in Peru, December 2019

4. Meeting people is easy, staying friends is hard

One of my favorite things about travel is meeting people. But here’s the hard truth: most of those connections don’t last.

Think back to summer camp—remember how fast you bonded with your cabin-mates? And how you cried when it ended? Then you wrote each other letters for a bit, and then never talked again.

Travel friendships are adult summer camp. You meet amazing people—guides, fellow hikers, locals. You share stories, meals, inside jokes, maybe even tears. You exchange Instagrams. You swear you’ll stay in touch. Then… life happens. Time passes and you forget where you even met them.

Lasting friendship takes repeated effort and shared experience. That’s hard when you’re continents apart. Occasionally, a kindred spirit shows up and the effort sticks. But most of the time, the beauty is in the moment.

So enjoy people while you have them. Let connection be enough—even if it doesn’t last forever.

Waking up after camping in a cold van somewhere in Iceland, April 2016

5. 5 star is better when you stay in a hostel sometimes

Hot showers are the ultimate luxury. You only really know that after sleeping in a freezing guesthouse with no running water at 12,000’ in the Himalaya. There’s this idea called lifestyle creep: the more money you make, the more luxury creeps into your life, and suddenly that’s just your new baseline.

The first time you stay in a 5-star hotel? You feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. The architecture! The service! The breakfast buffet! But do it often, and 3-star hotels start to feel gross.

I can’t afford 5-star hotels regularly, but I also spend a lot of nights in mountain huts, budget hostels, and camping in a tent. Going from that to a luxury stay feels like time-traveling into another version of your life. The contrast is the luxury.

Also—travel teaches you the full scope of Western privilege. In many parts of the world, 5-star resorts feel jarringly Colonial, with a strange disconnect between guests and the locals serving them. It’s not a feeling I want to get used to. I’m glad that kind of luxury isn’t my norm.

The one and only time I attempted to photograph everything I was packing for a trip (to Patagonia and Antarctica) February 2016

6. Less is less

Everyone says to pack light. I still haven’t learned. I love stuff—and I love bringing it. Airports and train stations are my personal hell. Every time I have to repack, I curse myself and my Tetris pile of gear.

I’m an Enneagram 7 maximalist. And when I travel, I like doing a lot of things that require very specific gear: skis, snorkel, floaties, hiking boots, climbing harness, laptop, multiple cameras (DSLR, film, GoPro, drone). I don’t like to consider myself a fashionista, but I always need a variety of carefully planned outfits. This isn’t advice. It’s just the truth.

Packing light isn’t my thing—but having my own gear for my adventures? Always worth the schlep for me.

Having an impromptu picnic on the beach with my friend David and local friends we made on Masirah Island, Oman. January 2019

7. The kindest people were in the places I was most afraid to go

Sweden, Japan, Switzerland—clean, safe, lovely. But people mostly keep to themselves.

In contrast, places I was warned against—Oman, Egypt, Socotra—offered the warmest welcomes. Some people were guides. Many were just locals who offered help, tea, or even a place to stay.

Before those trips, friends and family were genuinely concerned. But statistically, I was probably safer in Oman than in the U.S.

Tourist-heavy places get tired of tourists. But in less visited places, people are curious, welcoming, and eager to connect. Bedouin cultures in Oman and Egypt have a sacred duty to help travelers. The kindness that I experienced in these countries really shifted my perspective.

All the gear & belongings I had in this photo (and lots more) would later be robbed in Cape Town, South Africa, January 2016

8. Travel insurance is mandatory

I got robbed. It sucked. You can read about it [here]. But here’s the takeaway: buy travel insurance.

I pay around $250/year, and it covers all my trips. It won’t replace a suitcase full of stolen gear, but it helps with medical emergencies, cancellations, and delays. Once, my luggage didn’t arrive in Ushuaia, Patagonia for two days—I hiked in borrowed clothes and a new pair of Nikes that insurance reimbursed.

Also check your renters and credit card coverage. My USAA renter’s policy and Amex purchase protection have saved me when it comes to stolen items and gear. Read the fine print. Know what’s covered. Don’t assume you’ll be lucky.

Pemba Sherpa, one of my awesome mountain guides on the Manaslu circuit trek in Nepal, November 2022

9. Don’t be a tourist

There’s a difference between being a traveler and being a tourist. Tourists are served. Travelers share in the experience.

I love activity-based trips—hiking, diving, climbing—because they level the field. You’re not just observing; you’re participating. And when you share the same trail or dive site with a local guide, you connect more naturally.

Service jobs exist everywhere, and we all rely on them when we travel. But if there’s a power or privilege imbalance, notice it. Acknowledge it. Be kind. Tip well. Remember that you were just lucky to be born where you were, and have access to the places in the world that you can travel because of privilege.

Voluteering along with my friends Jenny and Saelee with Lide Haiti, sharing art and creativity with art-risk girls in Gonaives, Haiti. April 2018

10. Do it for the growth, not the gram

I’ve been wondering lately how much my desire to travel is driven by genuine curiosity, versus a compulsion to be unique, enviable, and “on brand” on Instagram. It’s a chicken-or-egg situation I may never fully untangle.

I’ve always loved to travel. I tattooed a 747 airplane on my back in 2005 as a reminder to travel more—long before social media became part of my life. But when something brings you opportunities, money, free stuff, and a kind of identity, it’s easy to keep doing it for the wrong reasons.

I’ve been trying to return to the real reasons: personal fulfillment, growth, experience. But I often find myself sitting still, paralyzed to post anything on my grid. It’s like my brain won’t let me share until I’m sure it’s coming from the right place. I just can’t post another shallow “perfect day in the perfect place” post. I’ve done that for too long, and I’ve outgrown it.

Travel and life have given me so much. I’m just trying to figure out how to share it again in a way that feels honest—on my own terms, not the algorithm’s.

DiaryRenee LusanoSeptember 12, 2025