I was talking with a young man yesterday about the importance of travel. In the midst of loud music and sips (or in my case, gulps and stutters) of our drinks, I advised him to leave the country, see different sites. I remember a conversation like this years ago; an older man who I looked to for guidance had implored me to see the world. I liked this guy; he was always in a good mood and loved people. He had a sense of gravitas that I always admired and…
When I first started traveling 16 years ago, it wasn’t solely because I wanted to see other parts of the world. Yes, I was fascinated by foreign countries I had only seen on TV and cities I’d read about in school, but the real reason is because I was ashamed of where I came from. I grew up in the Southside of Kansas City, Missouri, a poor and violent neighborhood. We were raised on food stamps and second hand everything. I saw the rich and successful doing things like traveling…
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