Like most people, I barely travelled at all between 2020-2022. This is a sharp contrast to how I’d been living my life before the pandemic. I’m fortunate to work in a job that has helped me see the world, above and beyond the travel I’ve prioritized in my personal life, which was not insignificant. When I learned that I would be given the opportunity to go to Germany this fall, I was elated, having felt the itch to get away from my surroundings for some time now.

Work travel isn’t the same as personal travel. It can be gruelling at times, as you’re trying to maintain all your regular responsibilities while also being immersed in the work you’ve travelled for, but if you’re mindful and ambitious enough, I’ve always found that you can build in the time to do a few things that still allow you to fully experience where you are, outside of who you need to be for work. Whether it’s prioritizing a walk through the city, ensuring that you grab a meal or two at a local restaurant, or reserving some of your spare time to get out and see things, I’ve always been able to carve out a space where I can experience where I am, even if it’s brief.

I’d forgotten about how lovely it can be to walk into a place that’s entirely foreign and new to you. The culture, the people, the food, it was all subtle and significant at the same time, the different ways that we approach things. I found myself marvelling at buildings that were older than my entire country, at traditional customs that predated any ritual I’m familiar with, and simultaneously reflecting on how the simple act of being there, of experiencing it alongside the locals, was this beautiful coming together. There were several times when I remember looking at my travel companions in awe and struggling to wrap my head around the magnitude of what we were experiencing. The simple act of pulling out a book in a European café, or stretching out with my Kindle on a plane crossing the Atlantic Ocean, of laughing and joking and sharing life stories with strangers at a picnic table in a park, where the beer is flowing and the food is comforting and all you can think is “Wow, how did I end up here? How is this my life?” I found these smaller moments as moving as the big ones, as meaningful as standing in a beer hall with 9,000 other people merrily singing Sweet Caroline, or standing at the foot of a palace built in the 1300s for a royal family long lost to time and upheaval and change. The most beautiful part about real travel is all of the moments and how they come together, small and large, to create this unique experience outside of anything you move through in your normal day-to-day. 

I feel like this appreciation comes so much more easily as I get older than it did when I was younger. I understand now that I may not see these things again, and may not ever be able to adequately capture what it felt like to be in this place, in this moment in time, with these people and this energy around me. It’s electrifying in a whole new way than it was when I was younger, when I was more naïve, when I felt like I had an eternity to revisit these places and experiences. I think I take less for granted now, and I’m all the better for it. 

And what was even more, was how much I then also appreciated coming home. When I was younger, unattached, free to move through the world without consequence to anyone else, I felt more transient. I felt less urgency, less comfort in the coming home aspect, in the returning to my surroundings. But now, coming home to my husband, to my animals, to the house and home that we’ve built slowly and thoughtfully and with so much effort, I nearly cried out of sheer gratitude for all that I have. I’m grateful for the experiences I gained while I was away, and even more, for what I have to come home to. 

I think travel is so important. It’s important to see things beyond what you know, and to experience things outside of your circle of understanding and influence. On this trip, I built in some time to take in a bookshop that has been running for 325 years. The shop used to service the Bavarian royal family, providing them with the latest releases in literature. How wild is that?? The shop itself feels familiar, like any old bookstore you might walk through in any North American country, but every creak in the floor, every wood beam in the ceiling, the way that the shop itself is nestled into a massive city square dating back to the 1100’s is a reminder of the deep-rooted history that literature had in this country, in the world really, and how integral it has been to culture, to education, to society as a whole. The fact that a shop can permeate this duration of time, a length that is older than my entire country, is enough to blow your mind in the best possible way. 

And so, now that I’m home, I’m already looking back on the whole experience in wonder and awe, feeling like it’s been such a blessing to get to see and experience these new things, and then to get to come home and share them with my loved ones. My husband and I are now planning our own travel, so that we together can obtain some of these experiences together, and I’ll certainly be continuing the tradition of visiting bookshops in the places that I go to continue my appreciation for the power of the written word and it’s ability to transcend time and culture and space.