Why starting to travel later in life can be the best way to do it
The green hills around Zurich with the Alps in the background.
Growing up without passports: Why travel felt out of reach
Like many Midwestern kids from single-parent households, I didn’t travel abroad growing up. We’d take the occasional road trip or that one grandparents’-funded splurge to Disney World, but never those big, enviable trips to Europe or even Canada. When I finished school, I never took a “gap year”; it’s just not the thing you do in the US. It was straight from high school to university. Then came my adult years filled with career, mortgage payments, and life. Travel just wasn’t the priority.
Years later, when I had the opportunity to move to Australia, I got my first passport and started packing faster than you could say “Down Under.” (I came for a year and stayed a lot longer but that’s a story for another day.) I know it sounds like, “Oh, you traveled abroad,” but really, it was just moving my home to the other side of the world. For years afterward, all my travel time and budget went toward discovering my adopted home or visiting my birth home. The rest of the world was off the table.
Then there were emotional things holding me back. Growing up in that single-parent household where money was tight left me with hang-ups about cost and a constant need to be justify any spending. There were always these nagging questions in my head; ‘Why do you need to go anywhere?' ‘Don’t you have something better to spend that money on?’ ‘Don’t you need to save for a rainy day?’ And now, living in Australia, flights are even more expensive and it takes even longer to get anywhere, the luxury of travel felt like something other people did something out of reach for me.
Getting Started: My first ‘big’ trip abroad in my 40s
I dipped my toe in the water with a celebration trip to Tokyo in 2018, I had just completed my Masters and we could combine this trip to also meet up with family who were travelling at the same time (see how I had to tie the travel to something “important” to feel justified in taking it?). It felt like my first real international trip as an adult. Here I was at 48, figuring out how to navigate a train system in a language I didn’t read and trying to find food options for a diverse group of adults in a language I didn’t speak. Lessons were learned. Memories were created. I was hooked.
The iconic Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris
The trip that changed everything: Europe at (almost) 50
But the trip that really changed things came the next year, a three-week adventure through Paris, Zurich, Munich, and London. It was my first time in Europe, and I filled our itinerary with bucket-list “must-dos” just in case this was the one and only time I would visit Europe. In Paris, it was the catacombs and the Musée d’Orsay; in Zurich, the steep funicular, the chocolate, and Le Corbusier House; in Munich, Oktoberfest and a day trip to Neuschwanstein Castle. (wow, reading that list back, I really am a nerd, huh?)
And then there was London.
London had always held a mythical place in my mind, a city I’d built up as a goal I’d never actually reach. I was in high school in the ’80s, listening to what was “alternative” music for my small town. My youth was shaped by bands like The Cure, New Order, and The Smiths, by the street fashion of London, and by the post-punk art coming out of the UK. London was the epicenter of all of this.
Inside one of the amazing beer tents at Oktoberfest in Munich
Seeing the world through Gen X eyes
Each city’s personality unfolded before me. When we first arrived in Paris, bleary-eyed from 24 hours of travel, we came up and out of the Metro and there was, I swear, an accordion player busking in front of a bakery. Maybe it was the jet lag or maybe hunger, but the whole scene felt as if it had been staged to perfectly match the Paris in my imagination. And yes, the people were incredibly stylish, impossibly thin, and smoking everywhere.
The Pavillon Le Corbusier is a Swiss art museum in Zürich.
Zurich and Munich could not have been more different. Zurich, while urban and friendly, sits right at the foot of the Alps with instant access to green spaces. Without a car, it was easy to reach rolling hills straight out of Heidi, complete with the gentle clanging of cowbells. Munich, by contrast, and maybe because it was Oktoberfest, was bustling and far more traditional than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t expected to see so many people in full Bavarian garb.
Arriving in London felt like a mist-covered cultural homecoming for my angsty 17-year-old self. It lived up to everything I’d imagined and more. Walking the same streets (and riding the same Tube lines) as those teenage influences created a memory that will stay with me forever. I know London in 1987 was a very different city than in 2019, but standing in those spaces still made me feel connected to that time. And isn’t that one of the reasons we travel in the first place? To bring those influences to life? To see them in the flesh, or concrete as the case may be. To add the shape to those ghosts?
Street art in London that posed an important question
This wasn’t just a holiday. It was a perspective shift.
On the long flight back to Sydney, as I was already sketching out the next overseas trip and figuring out how to pay for it, I realised just how deeply I’d been bitten by the travel bug. The insights, growth, and experiences I gained in those few weeks completely outweighed the money spent. The quality time I shared with my partner, not on our phones, not racing off to work, was priceless. It reminded me why I work so hard: so I can see the world and collect the moments that make all the effort worthwhile. And I know I’m in a privileged position to even be able to say that, to have both the means and the opportunity to travel. That awareness only makes me appreciate it more.
So where to next? Scandinavia, yes. Possibly Spain. Definitely more time in Germany.
And then, well 2020 happened. We all collectively held our breath, cancelled plans and supported each other from afar. But there was a small silver lining for me: time. Time to plan, to watch way too much travel YouTube, to dream, and to figure out what kind of traveller I really am. I feel that time gave me space to slow down and reflect on my recent experiences.
The oldest Twinings in London opened in 1706 and has operated from that location for over 300 years.
It’s never too late
When I think about starting to travel later in life, I realise there are real advantages. I’m old enough to focus on what I actually want to see, not just what’s in the guidebook. (I still haven’t been to the Eiffel Tower.) For me, it’s more about creating experiences and immersing myself in new cultures, not chasing Instagram likes. I can still be my curious, nerdy self, just with nicer luggage and a better hotel room.
And if you’d told my 17-year-old self that one day I’d be standing outside King’s Cross Station, remembering those punk kids and bands from my mixtapes, I’d have thought you were mad. But I made it there, 30 plus years later, sure, but I made it.
In the end, travel doesn’t belong just to the young backpackers or the retirees. Whether you’re 29, 49, or 69, your first big trip can still change everything, even for a slightly jaded Gen Xer.
