A tabloid headline floats over a deer-in-the-headlights photo of a 60-something woman. She’s been caught in the act of . . . traveling solo! As a digital nomad! This is what I picture whenever people express shock that I once sold my condo, donated most of my possessions, packed a small suitcase, and began traveling full time—while continuing to work.

Becoming a digital nomad is not unusual. But doing so as an older woman tends to flabbergast those around you.

People reacting to women’s life choices with shock is nothing new, of course. But there comes a time when anything a woman does that’s slightly outside of the norm prompts the response, “At your age?” A survey of female friends reveals that this happens from ages 2 to 102. Before and after those troublesome years, you’re free to do what you like without judgment.

Meanwhile, Your Honors, I plead guilty as charged. For 5 years, I was (gasp!) an older digital nomad. Shameless travel hussy that I am, I’d have continued this lifestyle for another 5 years but for the pandemic.

Have I learned my lesson? Oh, yes. There are at least 10 packable lessons I’ve learned from travel.

1. If you’ve got a goal, get going.

I’m so glad I didn’t dither and miss my chance to travel. That I didn’t let age or modest finances deter me. That I didn’t think, “This must work out perfectly or it will be a disaster.”

Instead, I saw it as one more chapter in a lifelong series of learning adventures.

Travel lesson learned: Not every goal is about travel, but every goal is a journey. Don’t get stuck in park.

2. When you travel, you’re visiting someone’s home.

Yet residents of Venice, Barcelona, and other great cities have decried such behavior among a small but exasperating segment of travelers.

3. Trying to see everything is the best way to miss most of it.

You would think that someone who’d spent several years traveling would have covered most of the globe by now.

If there’s such a thing as Slow Travel, then I’m its biggest fan. Wherever I went, I lingered. I wanted a close-up view of everyday life, not a blurred view of every attraction. Even on short layovers I learned that slowing down is the key to gaining insight into a place.

4. Your feet are to travel what great novels are to reading.

“I have the European urge to use my feet when a drive can be dispensed with,” wrote Nabokov. Walking is a timeless activity, one that leads to in-the-moment observations and personal connections with history. When you explore a city on foot, it’s like losing yourself in a great work of literature as opposed to scanning tweets—it’s immersive, asks more of you, and richly rewards you, too.

Travel lesson learned: One mindful walk is better than a dozen rushed tours.

5. No matter how light you pack, you won’t need half of it.

This is true whether you’re traveling to one country or 10, for 10 days or 10 weeks, and to formal or informal settings. If you need things you didn’t pack, you can buy them there. But if you pack things you don’t need, you still must carry them everywhere.

6. We should talk to strangers more often.

No one’s asking you to follow someone down a dark alley, or to re-enact “My Dinner with André” on a six-hour train ride. But travel is a golden opportunity to find out what the rest of the world is thinking.

Don’t let that nifty travel app blind you to the people around you. Even language barriers can be overcome by empathy, smiles, laughter, and a bit of awkward miming.

Travel lesson learned: When we acknowledge each other, we extend the reach of community across cultures.

7. Don’t just look at the world, taste it.

My mother was an avid traveler and cook whose everyday repertoire celebrated global diversity. This is why my own journeys have always included culinary field trips. Exploring farmers markets, finding affordable cooking lessons, and swapping kitchen tales with locals is a great way to connect across cultures.

Travel lesson learned: “When life gives you lemons,” find out how local cooks use them!

8. Solo travel is glorious. So is the right traveling companion.

I love traveling solo. It nudges me out of my comfort zone and lets me be spontaneous.

I even learned to love dining solo without hiding behind a book. Often, this led to conversations with locals, who generously shared insights into their country’s history, lesser known landmarks, and of course, culinary culture.

Traveling with others can be Paradiso. Or Inferno. It’s all about attitude. I’ve witnessed travelers who waste time arguing. “I don’t know which museum! I thought you’d know which museum!” Who respond to any glitch by fuming, “This would never happen in [Anytown], USA!”

But sometimes you get to travel with people who embrace adventure, immerse themselves in a culture, and try new things. They find the upside of setbacks and help you notice things you would otherwise have missed.

9. The best souvenirs aren’t things.

Traveling with one small suitcase meant I couldn’t get weighed down with “stuff.” But there’s no limit on the customs one can carry home.

Like Italy’s passeggiata—an elegant evening stroll. Or Montrealers’ love of reading in city parks—books, not cellphones. Or the Irish habit of acknowledging passersby with a greeting or at least a nod. Wearing a mask doesn’t diminish the pleasure of these rituals.

10. Fresh starts are a type of travel.

When I returned to the States, I moved to Bend, Oregon. The only people I knew locally were my sisters and their families. And because of Covid, only some of us could get together without risk.

But because of travel, I don’t feel lonely. Because of travel, I know there’s always a way to navigate and connect.

I’ve met fellow Oregonians by joining a volunteer group that meets online. I hike along the Deschutes River. I download library books that explore the history and beauty of the state.

Having been a working nomad, I’m used to being productive from anywhere. I’m also used to getting on Zoom to catch up with the people I’ve met around the world. We share our joys, our worries, our national issues. You may consider these visits “virtual,” but the friendships are real.

Maybe that’s why I’ve adopted an explorer’s approach to our world’s surreal new circumstances. Oh, I see: Because of lessons learned from travel, I feel more at home on this vulnerable planet and within my vulnerable self.

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