The post in this series were about finding my footing—learning that unfamiliar doesn’t have to mean uncomfortable (or perhaps leaning into that discomfort a little bit?), that connection can be found in unexpected places, and that sometimes you just have to put on a raincoat and keep going.

[Read Part One here: The First Three Lessons – USA, Cuba & Iceland]

When starting this series, I knew I’d want this collection of lessons to be compiled into one post. Between England, Wales and Scotland, the lessons started hitting a little closer to home.

In 2017, I took my a trip to the UK and it was really one I really had no business being on.  It was a financial stretch for me at the time, going through a challenging transition in life, with oatmeal packed from home and no extra dollars to my name for an emergency. This trip, was my first completely solo, no friends or family, just me and my naïve self, determined to wander further. 

Phone photo quality has changed drastically over the last ten years but some of these are still my favourite.

This trip was not just about places I wanted to see. They were places I had spent years hearing about through family stories, heritage and the people who came before me.

And Wales, in particular, brought something to the surface that I wasn’t quite expecting. This part of the series feels a little more vulnerable.

It’s about heritage, memory, independence, unexpected friendships and the realization that sometimes we’re not just travelling to discover new places—we’re travelling to better understand where we came from, and who we’re becoming along the way.

These are the lessons that started to feel a little more personal and draw inner reflection more than just observing. So, let’s go.  

#4. The places most overlook can surprise you. 

England

Where the magic of train travel was discovered – you never know where you want or need to go, or will end up at the end of the day.

I had travelled from London through Bath to Bristol and into Wales. After leaving Wales, I found myself on a train heading through England with a little time and no particular destination in mind. Somehow, I ended up in Shrewsbury.

What was Shrewsbury all about? I had no clue. Hadn’t even heard of it before.

But I found a hotel while on the train departure platform, confirmed a room stay, and decided I’d see what I could find. And Shrewsbury turned out to be one of the unexpected highlights of the trip.

I wandered through a town I hadn’t researched, admiring castles and cathedrals, and eventually found myself on a self-guided tour through a 200-year-old prison.

It was random. It was awesome. And it definitely wasn’t on my itinerary. I gave myself permission to wander.

Shrewsbury wasn’t somewhere I’d circled on a map or spent months planning around. I didn’t arrive with a list of must-see’s or expectations.

I just got off the train. And it taught me that some of the best parts of a journey happen when you stop trying to control every part of it.

We spend so much time trying to make the right choices—choosing the right destination, restaurant, hotel, or making the right plan.

The places most people overlook might just become the places you remember.

Sometimes there’s just a train, a town you’ve never heard much about, and the decision to get off.

And sometimes, that’s all the adventure you need to get started.

Photo from the prison tour and unexpected sites from Shrewsbury.

#5. You can feel at home somewhere you’ve never lived. 

Wales

Wales was my trip “to the homeland”—the land where my grandfather stood as a little boy before boarding a ship with very few belongings and crossing the ocean to make a home in Canada.

I had always been curious about where he came from. The land, the culture, the life they had chosen to leave behind for a brighter future. The home they gave up to create a new one for the generations that came after.

My intention for my entire trip through the UK was to feel some sense of closeness to a culture I had never really been introduced to. I found myself going through one of hardest chapters in my adult life and wanted to be reminded of the fibres that made me who I am. 

I arrived in Cardiff with my backpack, just enough money for lunch and a pint, and no particular plan beyond seeing where the day took me. 

I found a quiet pub along the harbour and settled in.

Then someone started playing the piano (to my family, you likely know where this is going). A typical UK experience to most, perhaps.

Except the only other time I’d heard someone play with that kind of fluidity—and with a similar accent—was my grandfather. The grandfather I came to Wales to learn more about. 

I grew up hearing him play piano on holidays or at our community Legion. It is a sound that still gives me goosebumps, and one that makes me feel close to a man who was taken too soon from my pre-teen life.

My grandfather was a quiet, wonderful man. A man I didn’t get the chance to exchange enough words with while he was here with us.

But truthfully, there never would have been enough time. 

He’s a man I’d give almost anything to have tea with today and ask my curious-minded questions. He is someone I wish I had absorbed even more from his own lived experiences.

And there I was, thousands of kilometres from my home, not even in his own hometown, listening to a Welsh voice and piano keys, and suddenly feeling completely at home.

Photos are from Swansea, a cute little oceanside town and a Guinness in the pub that I experienced this special moment in Cardiff.

Not because I recognized the pub. Not because I knew the town.

Not even because I felt connected to Wales in the way I had originally thought that I would.

I felt at home because, for a moment, I felt close to him. Something felt familiar in that moment. 

That was the moment I developed a new habit while travelling.

When something feels particularly special, I take a moment to think about the people who aren’t here to experience it with me.

I think about what they would have noticed. What they would have loved. What I wish I could tell them. Sometimes, selfishly, I just think about how proud of my wanderlust spirit they would be. 

And most times, I imagine that I’m seeing & experiencing it for both of us.

Wales taught me that home isn’t necessarily a house, a town, or even a country.

Sometimes home is a sound, or a memory.

Sometimes it’s the people who shaped you, even when they’re no longer here to walk beside you.

And sometimes, home is simply recognizing the many people and places that had a hand in making you who you are.

I had travelled to Wales looking for where my grandfather came from. Instead, I found another way to understand where I came from.

And maybe that’s what finding home really means—not finding a particular place, but recognizing all the pieces of people, memories and moments that you’ve carried with you all along.

Photos proof was necessary my Welsh name, commonly mispronounced at home, was properly heard and written in my homelands Starbucks, haha.

Teg Tip: When you find yourself somewhere special, take a moment for the people who didn’t get to experience it with you. Some of the people who shaped our journey won’t get to see where it takes us. Choose to take them with you anyway.

6. You are capable of more than you initially think. 

Scotland

Scotland is another place I believe that I have so much more to discover as my visit was only a few days in Edinburgh, but it was an important stop for me.

Scotland was another touchpoint to my heritage that I wanted to experience—this time, my maternal grandmother’s side of the family.

But Scotland also gave me something I didn’t know I needed at the time: a little proof that I could actually do this travelling thing on my own.

It was my first time booking an entire day tour and simply… going.

What better adventure for a first attempt than setting off in search of the Loch Ness Monster?

I booked the tour (Tour: Loch Ness, Glencoe, the Highlands Guided Day Tour from Edinburgh) , with an early departure and knew I knew I wouldn’t be back until late that evening.

And at jumping on the bus, I met another solo traveller. He was from France. I was from Canada.

My French was… let’s just say not good. But he was looking to practice his English.

Perfect. Two solo travellers assigned to be bus-buddies, two different countries, one shared day trip and a conversation that somehow worked.

I made a new friend that day—one I still consider a friend today.

There was another important decision that day, too.

I was budget travelling, which meant I had to choose between the add-on boat excursion to really go looking for Nessie… or a quality lunch. I was not in the market for both. So, I chose the fish and chips.

It’s funny looking back at that day now because the lesson Scotland gave me is something that feels completely natural to me today.

You can book the tour.

You can go alone.

You can talk to strangers.

You can make a friend.

You can do the thing you’ve been thinking about doing.

At the time, that required a little bit of courage to book it.

Now, I can look back and see it as one of those small pivotal moments when I realized that I didn’t need to wait for the perfect travel companion, the perfect plan or someone else to make the first move. I just needed to harness the part of me that says: “Okay. Now book it and go do it.”

And that little voice has taken me a surprisingly long way and to many new parts of the world. 

Teg Tip: When faced with tough choices such as choosing between hunting for Nessie and eating fish and chips, be sure to choose wisely. The lunch was a guaranteed win.

Since my first visit in 2017, I have returned to England twice since this initial lesson, always in a better financial position a bit more confidence but the same love of the land and culture (& cold pints!) .

This series has truly reminded me that the best souvenirs aren’t always the ones you can describe when people say “So, how was your trip?”. They’re the ones that stir something inside of you that is indescribable, something you carry forward with you long after you return home.

Fellow travellers, what have you carried home?