Be a Local, Not a Tourist
If I had to pick the biggest lesson I've learned from traveling, it's this:
Don't just visit a place. Live it.
It's easy to check off famous landmarks, take photos, and move on to the next destination. But the moments that stay with you forever rarely happen at the tourist attractions. They happen when you slow down enough to experience everyday life alongside the people who actually call that place home.
Talk to the locals. Eat where they eat. Shop at family-owned businesses. Learn a few words of the language. Stay in locally owned accommodations. Volunteer if you have the opportunity. Play with the children. Listen to people's stories. Be curious.
The more I travel, the more I realize that people are the destination.
Cambodia taught me that lesson better than anywhere else.
Cambodia: The Most Heart Wrenching Goodbye
While backpacking through Southeast Asia, I found a volunteer opportunity on Worldpackers at a small English school in Siem Reap. It immediately stood out to me, and something told me I needed to go.
I spent the next week living alongside the other volunteers in a 12-person hostel that quickly began to feel like home. We weren't just there to teach—we became part of the community.
Classes were held three times a day. In the mornings, we taught the younger children, and in the afternoons, the older students came to learn. There wasn't a strict curriculum or lesson plan. Every day we found creative ways to teach new English words, play games, and help the students build confidence. Some of the best lessons came from simply laughing together.
The classrooms weren't what many people might imagine.
They were simple outdoor classrooms with wooden benches, open to the fresh air. There were no fancy resources or technology—just students who genuinely wanted to learn.
And they did.
The children were some of the most loving, grateful, and joyful people I have ever met.
Every day after class, they wanted to play. We'd kick around a soccer ball, run through the schoolyard, dance together, laugh until our stomachs hurt, and somehow communicate despite speaking different languages. One afternoon it started pouring rain, but nobody cared. We kept playing soccer barefoot while the rain soaked all of us.
Watching the children run across rocks with bare feet reminded me how different life can look around the world. They didn't seem to notice what they didn't have. They simply enjoyed the moment they were in.
One day, a group of girls gathered flowers from around the school and carefully tucked them into my hair and braided it until they declared I looked like a princess.
It's one of my favorite memories I've ever made.
Outside of teaching, we became close with the family who runs the school. Every evening they cooked dinner for all of us, and those meals became some of my favorite moments. We'd sit together, share stories from our different countries, and learn from one another.
The volunteers became family, too.
Cambodia itself felt like home.
One afternoon, one of my students' dads offered to take me into town in his tuk-tuk. I sat across from his daughter as we drove through Siem Reap, talking about school and life. She proudly told me she was learning English, Chinese, and Khmer. It wasn't a tour or something I had planned—it was simply an act of kindness from someone who wanted to help.
Moments like that can't be booked online.
They happen when you open yourself to genuine human connection.
Outside of volunteering, I settled into a simple routine. I found a local café that I loved so much I kept going back until the owner knew who I was when I walked in. I went to a local gym that had a pool where I'd spend afternoons relaxing in between class. I wandered through neighborhoods, ate at small family-owned restaurants, and spent as much time as I could simply observing everyday life.
Those ordinary moments became some of the most meaningful parts of my trip.
When it came time to leave, I wasn't ready.
Saying goodbye to the students was one of the hardest things I've ever done while traveling. Many of the children wrote letters to the teachers before we left. As I sat on the bus to Phnom Penh, I read each one through tears. Every letter reminded me that even though I had only spent a short time there, the connections we built were real.
Cambodia gave me something far greater than beautiful temples or incredible food.
It gave me perspective.
It reminded me that the richest travel experiences don't come from luxury hotels or perfectly planned itineraries. They come from sharing meals with families, learning from children, supporting local communities, and allowing yourself to become part of a place instead of simply passing through it.
So wherever your next destination is, I hope you choose to be more than a tourist.
Eat at the little family-owned restaurant instead of the chain.
Shop from the woman selling handmade goods on the corner.
Learn someone's name.
Play soccer with the neighborhood kids.
Volunteer if you have the chance.
Listen more than you speak.
Because when you travel this way, you don't just collect passport stamps.
You collect people.
If you're interested in volunteering at the school where I stayed in Siem Reap, I've linked it below. The school operates entirely through volunteers and donations, and every contribution helps provide local children with the opportunity to learn English and get meals a few times each week. It remains one of the most meaningful experiences of my life, and I hope many more travelers get to experience it too.
