By Robert Dean
Carter County Times
I hate to sound like some pinky-in-the-air diva when I say this, but you should really get out of your hometown. It’s not about wanderlust. It’s about escaping the echo chamber of your own assumptions. Leaving isn’t about the destination—it’s about learning you’re not the center of the universe. And yeah, we need that. If you’ve been thinking about buying that plane ticket, consider this your push.
After two weeks on the road, I feel like I left pieces of myself behind in every place I passed through and picked up something new in return. I’ve been all over this country: San Francisco to Mobile, Lexington to New York. Recently, I made it to Dublin, London, and Barcelona. What I took home wasn’t a tacky gift shop sweatshirt—it was time. Time in moments. Time in motion. But you don’t need a passport to shake your assumptions loose. Sometimes getting out of your own county is enough.
Then there are the quieter moments. In Barcelona, I sat on a park bench eating a pastry from a shop that’s been open since before most countries had borders. A guy sat down beside me with fresh soppressata, cheese, and bread. He looked over, motioned to share, and I made myself a bite. We didn’t speak the same language – he couldn’t understand my South Side of Chicago dialect any more than I could follow Spanish – but we watched the city go by together. Parents pushing strollers. Birds pecking at crumbs. The world, moving. For him, maybe it was just a Tuesday. For me, it was a memory carved into bone.
You can’t manufacture that with an Amazon Prime delivery—or even a quick weekend trip. Sometimes it takes being way out of your element.
People will say, “I can’t afford to travel,” then drop $200 on Jordans or blow through a weekend on vape refills. Look, I’m not trying to drag you into some self-righteous TED Talk, but stepping outside your life – even just for a little while – is good for you. It shows you how other people operate. It forces us to look inward when things don’t go our way, when nachos aren’t on the menu, or someone casually disagrees with everything you believe. There’s value in being the outsider—even if “abroad” just means New Orleans.
And believe me, I live paycheck to paycheck. Ain’t no commas around here. But the risk? Worth it. I don’t want to leave a boring corpse. Seeing stuff has value—the absolute awe I felt staring up at the Sagrada Família in Barcelona was mind-blowing. Did I sacrifice a car payment to walk cobblestone streets in Dublin? Guilty. Will I have to eat cheaper? I will. On the flip side, I had probably the best Indian food of my life in London.
It’s easy to say “I hate people.” Honestly, look around—we live in a world where the Kardashians still have a chokehold on pop culture. But something shifts when you’re laughing over a pint in Dublin, trading barbs with strangers who don’t care about your backstory. Dubliners joke at everyone’s expense, and if your skin isn’t thick, you’ll fold. As a classically trained smack-talker, I felt right at home.
If you’re willing to max out a credit card on a PlayStation, maybe ask yourself if there’s a better extended cut of life worth chasing. Like: what happens when someone across the world wants to know about your hometown—about what makes you, you? That’s your chance to raise your little hometown flag, but with perspective. Doesn’t matter if you’re in Paris, Texas or Paris, France; there’s something powerful about sitting with someone you don’t know, sharing food, and realizing you’re not as different as you thought.
Because when you tell your story to someone who doesn’t know the plot, sometimes the story changes. And sometimes, that change is worth more than anything you’ll find at Foot Locker or GameStop. When life slows down, do you want to remember it by beating Call of Duty—or by knowing you took a moment to explore not only the uncomfortable, but yourself?
I mean, that Indian food was so good. I’d pick that if I were you.Contact us at news@cartercountytimes.com
