The other week, a friend shared a job posting with me from an upscale luxury travel company. My first reaction surprised me: This actually looks fun. I don’t think I’ve felt that spark since applying for my very first job at USAID—back when the idea of traveling the world, experiencing new cultures, and helping shape U.S. foreign policy felt like the perfect blend of purpose and adventure.

Reading that posting pulled me back to the memories that shaped my lifelong love of international travel. The trips with my father around Asia—medical tourism visits to Bangkok, the beach resorts of Phuket, the bright buzz of Singapore. He encouraged my curiosity early, even sending me to Model UN in Nairobi so I could get a taste of global affairs… and so I could see the beauty of Kenya and go on my first safari in the Maasai Mara.

Over time, travel has become more than movement—it has been one of my greatest tools for personal growth, confidence, and mental health. It has pushed me past fears I didn’t even realize I carried: fear of the unfamiliar, fear of being alone, fear of stepping beyond the expectations placed on me. Being in a new place forces my mind to soften, to open, to breathe. It reminds me that I am capable of navigating uncertainty with resilience.

One of the most transformative journeys of my life was my solo trip to Jordan. Until that point, most of my independent travel had been in Asia, Europe, and Africa—regions that felt familiar to me as a third-culture kid. The Middle East, by contrast, felt intimidating based on the stories I’d heard growing up as a South Asian woman, especially around the treatment of migrant laborers. I wasn’t sure what to expect traveling there alone.

But from the moment I landed in Amman, my anxieties began to dissolve. I started to understand the warmth of the culture and the genuine safety I felt as a woman traveling alone. While I experienced a few moments of subtle racism, the overwhelming generosity, humor, and everyday kindness of Jordanians stayed with me. I loved long evenings along Rainbow Street, wandering ancient Roman ruins, and sharing tea with shopkeepers who insisted I sit and rest. Jordan didn’t just surprise me—it helped me overcome a lifelong fear and expanded my sense of what solo female travel could look like.

These experiences built the foundation for other independent adventures—to places like Tulum and Siem Reap for yoga and wellness retreats—where I learned to slow down, trust my instincts, and enjoy my own company. Each of these trips strengthened my independence and deepened my belief that travel can be a form of healing.

Seeing that recent job posting reminded me of how much joy I get from sharing travel stories and encouraging others to explore new places. Maybe I’m not “qualified” for that role. Maybe I am. But that’s not really the point. What matters is realizing that there are still opportunities out there that make me think: I could love a job again. And that feeling alone is worth holding onto.