The Most Important Travel Tip I Can Give as a Lifelong Traveler
The Most Important Travel Tip: A travel story from someone in their 20’s
Looking back on all the places I’ve traveled, one thing stands out: I’ve always had the most fun when I didn’t overthink it.
One of my first solo international trips happened that way.
It was the summer of 2009, while visiting my dad in central Maine, I borrowed my uncle’s car, and with the new freedom I had, I decided that the obvious place for me to go was Canada. – Again, I did not overthink it. My dad lived 3 hours from the border, so I packed a suitcase, picked a few days, and went. I knew that that portion of Canada was French-speaking, so I was mentally preparing myself to navigate that area with my 2 years of high school French. This was also during a time before GPS or smartphones. So, I only had a road map and a flip phone in hand. If you’re wondering what my dad thought of this, he was someone who, in his 20’s, hitchhiked from the southern part of Mexico to New Hampshire. So, maybe he considered it a rite of passage.
Back to me, I didn’t have a hotel reservation, and I honestly thought that if I couldn’t find a place to sleep when I got there, I would sleep in my car. Once I crossed the border, I truly felt like I was in a different country. Every sign was in French, including the road signs. One thing I did not anticipate was that everything was listed in the metric system, which, if you are reading this as an American, the metric system feels like its own language. Overall, these things were not a big deal, but something else that my mind had to adjust to. About halfway from the U.S. border to Quebec City, I had to stop to ask for directions. I pulled into a gas station and asked the attendant, and this was my first big test. The gas station attendant did not speak English. So, in a mixture of miming and my best French, which was not great, I attempted to find my way toward the right direction. Finally, a woman stopped in who spoke English, and she was able to fill in the gaps that were lost in translation. An hour later, I was in the city. I spent the first 30 or 40 minutes driving around. Feeling immediately overwhelmed, I realized that it was probably best if I did not sleep in my car, so I found a corner hotel. It was around 8 pm when I checked in, and it cost me a little over $100. The hotel was about a mile from Old Town Quebec, so after I checked in, I took a walk. Quebec City is on top of a hill, which is something that you don’t realize until you have climbed 300 stairs to get there. It was Friday night, and one memory that stands out to me was the culture of punk rock teens who gathered at night. Some had mohawks a foot tall. I lived near various cities, but this was my first time in a foreign one, and I think the reason why it stuck with me was that it seemed unexpected. It reminded me that there was diversity everywhere.
After getting to know the city more at night, I went back to the guest house. The next morning, I woke up early and left the hotel before 8 am. One thing I learned was that Saturday in Quebec City is slow! Nothing was open except a few coffee shops. I spent the whole morning discovering all the historic parts, including some of the ruins of the old settlements. I felt like I had the entire city to myself. In the afternoon, I packed up my car and headed back to Maine.
Overall, it was one of those memories that reminded me what it felt like to be alive. I came back to Maine more confident than when I left, and somewhere between a gas station conversation in broken French and a late-night walk through Quebec, I realized that the best parts of life usually begin the moment you stop overthinking them. People are the same all over the world. We are all just trying our best. You will find kindness everywhere and see the best in humanity.
