I was an avid traveller for about a decade before settling down in Türkiye. I was travelling internationally nearly every week for work and when I wasn’t travelling for my job, I was booking slow-travel holidays. When I think back to who I was in Canada versus who I am now, a resident of Istanbul who's been to fifty countries and all seven continents, I’m amazed by how many supposed concrete daily habits and personality traits shifted beneath me as I began to feel more comfortable abroad than at home. The things I once thought were majorly important have become the least of my interests or worries.

The following are the biggest things I stopped caring about once I moved abroad. These little shifts made me a better traveller and more confident person:

Brand names in grocery stores

The way I used to shop in Canada is completely different from how I shop abroad. In Canada, I know where brand names or supermarket companies rank in terms of quality or brand reputation. Whether consciously or not, I tended to gravitate toward things like shampoos, cleaning products, and packaged food brands that I knew had good brand recognition and reputation. I knew, for example, that going to No Frills said something different about my shopping habits and socio-economic status than, say, splurging somewhere like Whole Foods.

When I’m travelling—or living abroad here in Istanbul—I don’t have the same prejudices. I shop at the market closest to my house for convenience—and only found out it was basically the Turkish equivalent of No Frills when I told an affluent Turkish friend where I shop (which resulted in a raised eyebrow, but hey, I love being frugal). I test out different brands with no preconceived notions and no longer worry about what the brand of hand soap on my bathroom counter says about me. It’s both oddly freeing and disorienting to not recognize most brands of everyday products in the store and it has reset my barometer in terms of needing to buy the brands that everyone else buys back home.

Puritanical ideals

I never considered myself judgmental of others, but travelling abroad and eventually living in a country so different from my own made me realize that some of my Canadian-centric ideals were near puritanical compared to the norm in Istanbul and elsewhere. I was a very good kid growing up; some might say I was an overly strict rule-follower and even a little naive. As a traveller though, my puritanical ideals slowly started going out the window as I became more intimate with how others live.

I’ll never forget the first time I met my ex-boyfriend’s friends in a bar. We spent the entire night knocking back beers and pairing nearly every beer with a cigarette. The dimly lit bar “patio” was barely a patio, more like a room with a large open skylight, but smoking was still permitted. Growing up in Canada, I distinctly recall hiding my grandmother’s cigarettes as a ploy to get her to stop smoking but living in Istanbul and travelling to places like Tokyo and other Balkan countries made me loosen my judgmental grip on certain vices and just go with the flow—even when it went against my somewhat innocent-leaning ideology from my time in Canada.

Feeling socially awkward

In Canada, I’m shy and reserved. I’d never go to a networking event or social mixer for fear of ending up a wallflower at the edge of the crowd. I’d never strike up a conversation with a stranger or meet someone from an app to see if we have a potential connection. I used to describe myself as severely socially anxious. But abroad? There’s no room for being shy and reserved if you want to build a community or find like-minded travel buddies.

If I had allowed my former socially anxious label to define who I was abroad, I never would have met my closest friends in Istanbul, both of whom reached out to me on social media after reading some of my articles on Türkiye. I never would have met my current partner, whom I bumped into at an open mic night that I decided to check out alone. I have dozens of friends from all over the world that I’ve met and made unforgettable memories with just by being open to getting to know people while travelling. Many of these friendships are closer than the ones I made in my home country.

I’m constantly grateful that I pushed myself to get out of my shell abroad and I can’t imagine if I had let my past labels define me; travelling and living abroad would have been a heck of a lot more lonely.

Ticking countries off a to-visit list

Many avid travellers have a to-visit bucket list written alongside a list of every country they’ve ever been to. I certainly did. I know so many people who post the number of countries they’ve visited in their social media bio like it’s some kind of badge of honour. But living abroad—and visiting over fifty countries both for work and pleasure—made me realize that slowing down and really experiencing a given culture is worth far more than trying to visit as many countries as possible. Stopping in for a day or two just to say I’ve been to one more destination doesn’t have much value to me anymore.

When I first moved to Türkiye, I pictured myself taking two-day trips on a weekly basis to tick off all the Balkan, Middle Eastern, and North African countries I hadn’t been to, taking advantage of the geographical proximity and inexpensive flights. But honestly? I’ve discovered that staying in one place and getting to know Turkish culture on a truly intimate level has been more rewarding than surface-level weekend trips to the old city and tourist hotspots of nearby countries.

Language anxiety

I grew up in Canada—so naturally, I’ve been learning French since I was nine or ten years old. I took French immersion throughout high school and spent 12 years living in Montreal. I had a French-Canadian boyfriend and a soft spot for Paris, visiting over a dozen times in a five-year period. I should have spoken beautiful French but living and visiting places where seemingly every French speaker spoke better English than I did French made it feel impossible to push myself to speak the language, even though I loved it.

I struggled with what I call “language anxiety” for years before I moved to Türkiye, where it’s considerably rare to meet people who speak fluent English. My day-to-day life did not have the space for language anxiety when I had the choice to either speak broken Turkish or not speak at all. I started taking Turkish classes almost immediately after moving to Istanbul and I can now speak at a B1 level—but not just on paper, like with French. Living somewhere where locals genuinely appreciate my attempt to speak their language means I’m learning faster, becoming braver, and connecting with locals in their own language.

This kind of exposure therapy extended to my stunted French practice as well. I joined a French club here in Istanbul, where I practice French on a regular basis. I travelled to Morocco, where I shared a lovely conversation with a Berber who only spoke French and Arabic. Living abroad where English isn’t widely spoken was the best thing I could have done for my language anxiety, to the point where I no longer fear making mistakes or having an English-tinted accent.

Doing things solely for social media

Travelling frequently looks good on social media. I hate to admit it, but I used to go to certain restaurants or landmarks abroad for validation or social media clout. I sometimes think that I was doing and posting this kind of thing for validation alone because I didn’t have enough inner validation, or, perhaps, inner happiness.

Living abroad and learning how to exist in a culture so foreign to my own has subsequently led to so much personal growth. I trust myself and my instincts more than I ever did in Canada. I don’t feel the need to impress strangers on social media when I’m busy trying to cultivate a beautiful life for myself, and, frankly, for once in my life I’m actually leaning into the things that make me happy.

I often ask myself if I would still want to do something if I never posted it on social media or told anyone about it other than my close friends and family. If the answer is no, then I drop it and look for something that will fulfill me, personally, and no one else.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------