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Be a Tourist in Your Own Town: Try a Travel Mindset
Today, while on vacation in the Thousand Islands, my family took a glass-bottom boat tour out to a lighthouse.
While we were waiting for the boat, I was looking at the houses next door to the tour company and had a thought.
I wonder how many of the people who live here have ever taken this tour?
There has to be some kind of paradox at work: the closer you live to the tour company, the less likely you are to take the tour.
I live outside Washington, D.C. People get on buses from all over the country to come see the Smithsonian museums. They're incredible. They're also free.
And there are people who have lived in the D.C. area their entire lives who have barely visited them.
I'm sure there are New Yorkers who have never been to the Statue of Liberty.
Why?
Why We Ignore What's in Our Own Backyard
I think part of it is that when something is always available, we stop seeing it as something we need to experience.
I can go anytime.
And "anytime" has a funny way of becoming never.
When we're on vacation, though, everything changes.
If I'm somewhere for four days, suddenly I want to know what's around me. I look up museums. I find hiking trails. I want to know where the locals eat. I'll drive 45 minutes to see a lighthouse.
Why?
Because I'm leaving.
There's a deadline.
If I don't take the boat tour today, I might not get another chance.
At home, there doesn't appear to be a deadline.
That museum will be there next Saturday.
That trail isn't going anywhere.
We'll try that restaurant eventually.
I'll take the kids there another time.
But of course, there is a deadline.
We just can't see it.
The Psychology of Being a Tourist
I think travel puts us into a different state of mind.
Things are new, so we're curious. Time is limited, so we pay attention.
We read the historical marker. We stop at the scenic overlook. We walk through the museum. We take the boat ride.
At home, familiarity takes over.
We drive past interesting things every day without really seeing them because they've become part of the background.
Maybe that's part of why vacations feel so alive.
It's not only that we've gone somewhere interesting.
We're paying attention again.
Carpe Diem Doesn't Have to Mean Doing More
I've written before about why we can end up feeling guilty about resting, and there's a danger in turning carpe diem into another demand to constantly be doing something.
That's not what I want.
I've also thought about this through the idea of the Death Clock and carpe diem—the reminder that our time is finite even when everyday life doesn't feel that way.
Maybe carpe diem simply means remembering that things aren't as permanent as they seem.
Your kids won't always be the age they are now.
Your parents won't always be able to make the walk.
You won't always live in the same town.
The little restaurant you've been meaning to try might close.
And someday you'll do something for the last time without realizing it was the last time.
Don't confuse availability with permanence.
Just because we can't see the deadline doesn't mean there isn't one.
Go Somewhere New Every Week
Before COVID, I had a little mission for myself.
I tried to hike somewhere new every week.
I didn't think much about the philosophy behind it. I just liked hiking and exploring.
Then COVID happened, the habit disappeared, and I never really brought it back.
Looking back, though, there was something really good about that mindset.
Every week had a little bit of discovery built into it.
I'd look at a map. Find a trail. Drive somewhere I hadn't been before.
Sometimes it was great. Sometimes it wasn't worth going back.
That wasn't really the point.
The point was that I was still exploring.
Somewhere along the way, I started thinking exploration was something you did on vacation.
Maybe it doesn't have to be.
How to Be a Tourist in Your Own Town
I'm thinking about bringing back that old habit, but expanding it beyond hiking.
A few hours each week with a travel mindset.
Go somewhere you haven't been.
Walk the trail you've driven past a hundred times.
Visit the free museum you've always said you'd get around to.
Drive to a little town 30 minutes away and walk around.
Go fishing somewhere new.
Try the weird restaurant.
See the local minor league baseball team.
Read the historical marker instead of driving past it.
Basically, be a tourist in your own town.
Not an entire day. Not an elaborate itinerary. And definitely not another obligation to cram more into life.
Just a few hours when you deliberately explore what's already around you.
Pretend you're leaving tomorrow.
What would you finally go see?
What Are We Not Seeing?
I'm writing this sitting on a rock in the Thousand Islands, looking across the water at a lighthouse.
Boats keep passing in front of me.
Something else I've noticed is how many of them fly both American and Canadian flags.
There's been plenty of political tension between the United States and Canada lately. But sitting here on the border, watching Americans and Canadians sharing the same water, the two countries don't seem very far apart at all.
It's a small thing.
But I noticed it.
And maybe I noticed it because I'm traveling.
I'm looking around.
I'm curious.
I'm paying attention.
Which makes me wonder:
What am I not noticing at home?
Maybe we don't always need to travel hundreds of miles to experience that feeling.
Maybe we can bring some of it home with us.
A few hours every week when we deliberately go somewhere new, look at something familiar differently, or finally do the thing that's been sitting right under our nose for years.
Not because we need to maximize our lives.
Not because every Saturday needs to become an adventure.
And certainly not because sitting on a rock watching boats go by is somehow wasting time.
Quite the opposite.
Maybe carpe diem isn't about doing more.
Maybe it's about being awake enough to notice the life we're already living.
And remembering that just because something feels like it will always be there doesn't mean it will.
Go somewhere new this week.
You don't have to go very far.
“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”
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