The Best Gift You’ll Ever Pack

annamoscataro
Dec 24, 2025
4 min read

Why travel is the passport to perspective, gratitude, and connection this Christmas season

When I was a child, I didn’t fall asleep to fairy tales.

I fell asleep to airports.

Not literally, although knowing my uncle, it wouldn’t have surprised me. He was the kind of man whose bedtime stories involved tuk-tuks, sandstorms, questionable street food, and waking up in places where the sunrise felt like a personal welcome committee. His tales of the world weren’t just entertainment, they were invitation. He made adventure feel less like a luxury, and more like a lineage. Humans have been exploring for thousands of years, he’d remind me long before Instagram, long before carry-on luggage, long before anyone decided “comfortable shoes” were a negotiable part of the experience.

My uncle is no longer here. But travel is.

And in many ways, so is he every time I step onto a plane, train, or suspiciously overcrowded bus containing both livestock and someone’s Amazon parcels.

Character isn’t built in comfort

We live in a world that worships convenience. Conversation comes pre-filtered, pre-typed, pre-scheduled. But beauty? Beauty is spontaneous. It doesn’t show up when you want it to. It shows up when you’re open to it usually when you’re lost, jet-lagged, or mildly dehydrated in a rural province with no snacks.

Yes, five-star hotels are lovely. I enjoy them immensely. Nothing says “self-care” like a robe that feels like a cloud hug. But the moments that shaped me most weren’t wrapped in thread-count. They were wrapped in humanity.

Like the night I paid £2.50 for a bed in Vietnam. The accommodation was humble so humble, in fact, that “budget” feels like a generous adjective. But the people? Priceless. Other travellers spilled stories like they were pouring wine, and our local host fed us from her family’s table, not because she had plenty, but because she had pride. Hosting was her livelihood, yes but also her love language. In sharing her home, she shared her heart.

Or the evening in Japan when my partner and I met a woman living in the very hostel we were staying in. Recently divorced, raising a teenage son, navigating life without money or community she carried loneliness quietly, like a second suitcase. Through broken English and shared tea, we talked for hours. She offered us purple sweet potato. Not much, you might think. But it was everything she had. Accepting it felt less like receiving food, and more like receiving trust. The next morning, a letter waited for us. She had studied English, she said. Hadn’t practised it in years. Our conversation made her feel seen again. Less alone. More human. More hopeful.

And the rice terraces in China, where hunger (rookie mistake: forgot food) led us not to frustration, but to fellowship. An elderly farmer sprinted from her field to fetch her son, bursting with excitement to cook for us with the little they had. She didn’t see scarcity. She saw guests. She saw connection. She saw honour.

Most people are good. Most moments are gold.

Are there bad experiences while travelling? Sure. Roughly 1% of the time. But 99% of people are good. Especially those with nothing they open their doors wider, give more freely, take more pride in offering the best they have, even when it isn’t much.

Another time, in Sardinia, I met a hotel owner named Davide—whose passion for hospitality was so infectious, I still message him today. I’m planning a wedding now, and his local insight has been more helpful than Pinterest, Google, and three bridal magazines combined. Connection doesn’t need translation when sincerity is the language.

And these moments aren’t exclusive to just travel. They happen everywhere on British trains, European hostels, local pubs, family kitchens. The world is full of stories. Most of us just stop listening once we stop leaving.

Adventure is a human need. Connection is a human currency.

I don’t think my love for travel is purely about adventure. I think it’s about connection—about exploring the deep human need to belong, to wander, to witness, to share. To sit across from strangers and find yourself saying, “Oh. So that’s what it means to feel alive.”

Food helps, too. A universal language spoken in spice, steam, shared plates, accidental mystery ingredients. A connection tool older than borders.

Christmas taught me this first

Think back to your best Christmas.

Was it the year you received an unforgettable present?

Or the year you experienced unforgettable presence?

For me, it was never about the gifts. It was about Christmas Eve with friends, morning chaos with my brother tearing open gifts with our dogs, warmth you could feel without touching it. Experiences imprint deeper than objects ever will.

And travel works the same way. It’s not about where you stay or what you spend it’s about what you feel, who you meet, what you carry back in perspective, gratitude, and wonder.