Lately, I’ve been missing home more than I expected. Being so far away has brought up this constant, dull ache for somewhere familiar, and it’s made me think a lot about how people actually grow while travelling. Travel is supposed to feel exciting and freeing, but there are moments when the loneliness sneaks in, and you’re left alone with your thoughts. That part isn’t talked about as much.

I’ve learned that travelling in your 20s isn’t automatically transformative. It can be, but only if you’re paying attention. Otherwise, it’s easy to drift through places without really being present in them.

When I start to feel that heaviness, I try to ground myself in small, familiar things. I’ll do something I loved doing back home, especially if it involves other people. For me, that’s live music. Even if I don’t know anyone in the room, standing in a crowd and listening to something familiar makes me feel less untethered. It reminds me that parts of me stay the same, even when everything else is changing.

I also try to check in with myself about why I’m here in the first place. What do I actually want from this trip? What am I hoping to learn about myself? About the world? When I don’t ask myself these questions, days blur together and suddenly time has passed without much meaning attached to it.

Journaling has helped more than I thought it would. Once a week, I sit down and write about what I’ve noticed, how I’m feeling, what’s been hard, and what’s surprised me. Travel throws so much at you so quickly, and writing is how I slow it all down and make sense of it.

I make a point of doing at least one thing alone every week. A museum, a café, a long walk, a day trip. Those moments can feel uncomfortable at first, but they force me to sit with myself instead of distracting myself. Some of my clearest thoughts have come from those quiet afternoons.

Having some kind of routine has also been grounding. Nothing strict, just the basics. Eating properly, sleeping enough, moving my body a few times a week. When everything around you feels temporary, having small constants makes a difference.

I’ve seen so many people, and I’ve been close to this myself, end up wasting their time abroad. Not in the sense that they didn’t travel enough or see enough, but in the way they moved through it aimlessly. Waiting for travel to fix something, or for a moment that suddenly makes everything make sense.

The hard truth is that you need to know why you want to travel. If you’re running from something or hoping a new place will fill a void, that feeling usually follows you. If you feel stuck at home, you can feel just as stuck somewhere else. A change of scenery doesn’t automatically mean a change within yourself.

Real growth comes from being intentional, from doing the inner work no matter where you are. Travel can support that, but it can’t do it for you.

Still, when you let it, travel does change you in quieter ways. It happens when you get lost on unfamiliar streets, when you share meals with people you just met, when language fails and you have to soften and adapt. You start to see yourself differently if you allow it.

You have to romanticise the everyday moments. Put your headphones on, listen to old French music, and walk with no plan. Take in the freedom of knowing your whole life is ahead of you and you’re overseas, of all places. It really is a privilege.

Relish it. Just don’t drift through it.