A few years ago, I was on assignment in Tokyo. I had a curated list of “hidden gems” from a popular travel app. I followed the blue dot on my screen religiously. I found the cafes, I took the photos, and I realized—with a sinking feeling—that I was essentially just a biological drone completing a pre-programmed route.
I wasn’t traveling. I was just “verifying” the internet.
As an editor who has read thousands of travel pitches, I can tell you that the stories we reject are the “perfect” ones. The stories we buy are the ones where the traveler got lost, missed the train, and ended up at a funeral for a stranger in a village that doesn’t have a Yelp rating.
1. The “Algorithm” is a Circle
The problem with modern travel is the feedback loop. The algorithm suggests the “most Instagrammable” spot, which leads more people there, which creates more data, which makes the algorithm suggest it even more. If you follow the crowd, you are seeing the world through a filter. You aren’t discovering; you are rehearsing.
The Editorial Advice: To find a story worth telling, you have to go where the Wi-Fi is weak and the reviews are non-existent.
2. The Beauty of “Productive Wrong Turns”
In journalism, the “side-story” often becomes the “lead.” The same applies to life. When you lose your way, your brain switches from “autopilot” to “survive and observe.” You start noticing the architecture, the smell of the local bakery, and the way people interact.
The Challenge: Once per trip, leave your phone in the hotel safe for four hours. Walk in a straight line until you feel a little nervous. Then, try to find your way back by asking humans for directions.
3. Stop Curating, Start Experiencing
We have become the editors of our own lives before we’ve even lived them. We think about the caption while we’re still looking at the sunset. But a good story needs texture. Texture comes from discomfort. It comes from the humidity, the language barrier, and the mediocre meal that you had to eat because nothing else was open. These aren’t “fails”; they are the “plot.”
4. The “Local” Litmus Test
If you want to know if you’re actually experiencing a place, ask yourself: Could this photo have been taken by anyone else? If the answer is yes, you’re just a tourist. If the answer is no—because the photo is of a specific, weird moment that only happened to you—then you’re a traveler.
