Backpacking through Asia and Central America proved to me that travel is as important as a university education

Behind me, about a dozen riders on scooters formed a snaking trail along the roads of Pai, a laid-back mountain town in Northern Thailand.

In 2022, at 19, I was three months into a work exchange at a hostel in Pai. I was responsible for guiding a group of travellers from around the world—some my age, some twice that—to our final destination, Pai Canyon, for sunset. 

Arriving at the canyon, we parked our bikes, trying to stay as uniform as possible but failing miserably. First-timers to the spot pulled out their cameras capturing the canyon that spread for kilometres. As we sat down to take in the view, the dusty orange dirt stained our pants as the sky turned from orange to a cotton-candy pink. People chatted with new dorm friends whose names they'd learned an hour ago and would probably forget by morning. I stood at the edge, surrounded by this little community in my home away from home, and still couldn't believe I was here—a world away from where I grew up in Calgary, AB, Canada.

Once the sun dipped behind the canyon, I rounded up the tour inviting everyone to the local night market, where we would wander the stalls, trying everything from spring rolls, to pad thai, to cream-filled bao buns, and noodles folded up in bright green banana leaves.

It was moments like these that had already taught me so much. During this time, I had really leaned into travel. Already it was shaping me in a really significant way beyond what formal education typically offers. A year earlier, as a recent high school graduate, I booked a two-week trip to Costa Rica that quickly turned into a six-month journey through Central America. 

There, I quickly learned how to ride chicken buses with minimal Spanish and experienced hostel life for the first time. During this time, I could already feel myself evolving. I was becoming independent, navigating these new situations every day. I learned how to plan my stops and manage money, and I became even more extroverted than I already was. Although I intended to go to university the following year, I put those plans on hold. Instead, I returned home to work for the summer and booked another one-way ticket—this time to Indonesia.

Asia was vastly different from my experience in Central America and after experiencing the food and culture, I was immediately hooked. I loved the chaos, the motorbike-filled roads and the variety of beach towns, jungles and cities. I spent months jumping from country to country, exploring everything from major cities like Bangkok to small villages. 

By the time I reached Pai, I’d been moving every couple of days. I was at the point many long-term travellers experience: exhaustion. My body was craving a few days of alone time to rest and unwind. Checking into my hostel in Pai, I had planned to stay only a few days, but the community and the town's slower pace caught me off guard. Feeling relaxed, I decided to stick around. 

The few days I had planned quickly turned into a work exchange for weeks where I volunteered my time in exchange for free accommodation and four weeks of being able to call Pai home. I spent my days checking guests into the hostel, running tours, and answering the same questions about where to rent scooters and where to find the best food (my answer: pad Thai at the night market). Twice a week, we’d go to Pai Canyon for sunset and do tours to the Big Buddha and a waterfall. 

What I quickly realized was that working and living in a hostel meant being surrounded by people 24/7. Every shift was an opportunity to build communication skills and to talk to people from around the world—each with a unique perspective. I was meeting everyone from 18-year-old backpackers, to couples in their thirties and nomads who had been travelling for years. Anyone who has ever stayed —in lived in—a hostel knows that they have a way of fast-tracking connections. Hostel communities force you to listen, adapt, and sit with uncertainty. You make friends in five minutes, in spite of language barriers or differing cultures. Over time, these moments sharpen communication skills—not the kind taught in classrooms, but built through real-world experiences.

The education I was gaining extended beyond hostel life and was a major part of travelling. Living out of a backpack for months teaches you a lot about your personal values and what matters most to you. In my case, I learned to prioritize experiences over possessions and say yes as much as possible. For me, travel was becoming less about the place I was in and more about the people and connections I was making. 

Finally, after two years of travel, I was ready to settle in one place and I began my university undergrad in Toronto. Entering a four-year journalism program, I arrived on campus with a unique perspective. In an undergraduate program that relies on building connections and interviewing strangers daily, I felt more than prepared. I had already spent months starting conversations with people around the world. Challenges that might have intimidated me before I travelled now felt manageable. If I could guide tours through Thailand and navigate chicken buses in Central America, I felt more capable than ever to take on coursework and clubs, all while navigating a new city.

I still think about hostel life, my travels, and the people I met along the way as my most valuable education. It didn't come with a textbook or lecture, but it taught me the skills I needed to be the most successful version of myself. My experiences travelling have shaped my work ethic, my ability to relate to and connect with others, and my approach to navigating uncertainty. Whether you're fresh out of high school or a decade into your career, staying in hostels and travelling have a way of teaching you skills that will follow you long after the trip is over.