From riding a motorcycle along the old route Soviet tanks used to liberate Poland to driving a sports estate car across the Arctic Circle I’ve been looking for thrills and an authentic experiences around the world.
To me, travel isn’t just taking a picture trying to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa the right way up or pinching the Eiffel Tower with your forefinger and thumb and posting it to Facebook, or sharing ‘food porn’ of beautifully arranged Irish breakfasts and American waffles on Instagram. Travel is learning the language, understanding cultures, living like the local people, and assimilating into the local environment such that others don’t even suspect you of being a visitor.
I think it’s wrong to burden local people with your need for English signage or catering to your worldview. To them, you’re the alien, the outsider, and you’re just here to visit for a bit. Travel isn’t a right, it’s a privilege that the local people entrust you with and are willing to graciously host you at their expense (think traffic lights, public parks, and utilities that you enjoy at their tax expense).
“Men love their country, not because it is great, but because it is their own” – Lucius Annaeus Seneca. Every time I go somewhere not my own, I treat it as visiting someone’s home, someone else’s place of pride and identity.