Consider the case for embracing both the unique and the universal.
As a traveler, I aim for both the unique and the cliché. I’ve done the day tours and the backpacking, the 5-star hotels and the hostel, street food and the Michelin restaurant, the beach resort and the mountain cabin, the road trip and journeys via horse/boat/camel/train/hot air balloon/dogsled/ski/bicycle/scooter/foot.
If it is a fun, breathtaking, and/or beautiful experience, I don’t care if one million people before me have done it or just one person—I want to experience it for myself.
This philosophy has led me down paths both worn and untrodden. I’ve stood among hundreds of tourists watching the sunset at Santorini, and you know what? It was still magnificent. The collective gasps and quiet murmurs of appreciation only added to the magic of that golden moment. The next morning, I wandered down a narrow alley and found an elderly woman weaving baskets on her doorstep. She spoke no English, I spoke no Greek, but somehow we shared a connection over strong tea and fresh figs from her garden.
I’ve dined at restaurants featured in every guidebook and Instagram feed, savoring dishes that thousands have photographed before me. (See afternoon tea photo, above.) The duck confit at that famous bistro in Paris was everything they said it would be. But equally memorable was the mysterious soup I tried from a street vendor in Hanoi, served in a plastic bowl while sitting on a tiny plastic stool, with ingredients I still can’t name.
Some travelers pride themselves on avoiding tourist traps, but I’ve found beauty in these much-maligned spots. Yes, the Eiffel Tower is crowded. Yes, you’ll wait in line. Yes, the juice in the tower café is overpriced. But standing at the top, watching Paris spread out before you like a living map, how can you not feel a sense of wonder? The same wonder that millions before you have felt doesn’t diminish your own experience—it connects you to a shared human appreciation for beauty and achievement.
Me, at the top of the Eiffel Tower on a (very) windy evening
Then there are the moments that feel like they belong only to you. The sunrise workout session on a deserted beach in Bali, where the only other attendee was a stray dog who decided to join in. The impromptu invitation to a family wedding in India, where Husband and I danced until dawn with strangers. The wrong turn on a hike in Hawaii that led to a hidden waterfall, where I sat alone for hours, just listening to the water and wind.
I’ve learned that authenticity in travel isn’t about avoiding popular experiences—it’s about approaching each moment with genuine curiosity and openness. Whether you’re one of a thousand people taking photos of the Taj Mahal at sunset, or the only foreigner in a tiny mountain village in Morocco, what matters is your willingness to be present and engaged.
The luxury hotels have their charms—there’s nothing quite like sliding between high-thread-count sheets after a long day of exploration. But equally precious are the memories of nights spent in basic homestays, where the hospitality far outweighed the amenities. I remember the tech guy in India who insisted we take his bed while he slept on the futon, the Japanese ryokan owner who taught me the proper way to wear a yukata, and the Bedouin camp where I learned to find constellations in the desert sky.
Transportation becomes part of the adventure too. I’ve taken legendary train journeys like the Orient Express, sharing cabins with fascinating strangers and watching the world roll by. I’ve also bumped along dirt roads in decrepit buses, sitting beside local commuters clutching chickens. I’ve sailed on luxury yachts and rickety fishing boats, each offering its own perspective on the world’s waterways.
Every mode of travel brings its own rhythm and revelations. Hiking forces you to slow down and notice details—the pattern of lichen on a rock, the changing smell of the air before rain. Bicycle tours let you cover more ground while still feeling connected to the landscape. And yes, sometimes a guided bus tour is exactly what you need to efficiently see the highlights of a new city while learning its history.
The truth is, there’s no hierarchy in travel experiences. The “authentic” local market is no more valid than the carefully curated museum. The challenge of navigating public transportation in a new city is as worthy as hiring a private guide. Each choice offers different insights, different pleasures, different ways of understanding a place and its people.
What matters is not whether you’re following a well-worn path or blazing a new trail, but how fully you engage with each experience. Sometimes that means embracing the cliché—yes, I’ll have my photo taken “holding up” the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and I’ll enjoy every silly second of it. Other times it means following your curiosity down unmarked streets or starting conversations with strangers.
Me, keeping the tower from falling
After years of traveling this way, I’ve collected memories that range from the universally shared to the uniquely personal. Each one has value. Each one has taught me something about the world and myself. And I’m not done yet—there are still so many experiences waiting, both common and rare, each promising its own form of discovery and delight. Because in the end, travel isn’t about checking off boxes or avoiding tourists or finding the most “authentic” experience. It’s about staying open to wonder in all its forms, whether shared with a crowd of fellow travelers or savored in solitude.
Twist’s Take: Every journey, whether taken by millions before you or just a handful of adventurous souls, holds the potential for delight.
