I'm vegan on home base, but when I travel to other countries, I

Hear the words of Lake Bell, who spoke with candor and humor: “I’m vegan on home base, but when I travel to other countries, I throw it all into the garbage.” At first, her saying seems only playful, a confession of bending one’s rules. Yet within it lies a deeper truth about the tension between conviction and adaptation, between the ideals we craft at home and the realities we meet when we wander into other lands. It is a reflection of the eternal struggle of the traveler: to remain oneself while embracing what is foreign.

The heart of her words lies in the recognition that home and abroad demand different spirits. At home, surrounded by familiarity, one can cultivate discipline, routines, and the clarity of chosen principles—whether in diet, lifestyle, or values. But in travel, one enters the realm of the unknown, where cultures differ, offerings vary, and the heart must sometimes yield to experience. Bell admits that her veganism, strong at home, dissolves abroad—not out of weakness, but out of reverence for the richness of other cultures. In this, she reveals not hypocrisy but humility: the understanding that the traveler is not master, but guest.

This echoes the wisdom of the ancients. The philosopher Herodotus, wandering across Egypt and Persia, marveled at the customs of other peoples, remarking that every nation believes its own traditions to be best. His journeys taught him that true wisdom lies not in rigid judgment, but in respect for difference. Likewise, Bell’s laughter-filled confession teaches us that when we travel, sometimes we must set aside the rigidity of our home-born practices in order to taste, to honor, and to learn.

There is also here a lesson about adaptability. To cling too tightly to one’s ways, even in foreign lands, risks building a wall between oneself and the people encountered. To taste the bread offered, to share the meal of strangers, is to participate in their lives, to honor their hospitality. History gives us the story of Marco Polo, who journeyed into China and embraced the foods, customs, and traditions of the Mongol court. Had he refused, insisting upon the comforts of Venice, he would never have gained the trust of emperors or the knowledge of distant lands.

Yet Bell’s words are not a dismissal of conviction, but a reminder of balance. At home, discipline shapes the soul; abroad, openness shapes the heart. The true traveler carries both within: the strength to live by principle, and the wisdom to set it aside when it hinders connection. For the purpose of travel is not to remain unchanged, but to be transformed by the encounters that unfold.

We see this also in the story of Saint Francis Xavier, the missionary who traveled from Europe into India and Japan. He did not impose his customs rigidly but adapted himself to the traditions of those he met, wearing their clothing, learning their languages, respecting their ways. In this adaptability, he reached hearts that would have remained closed had he clung to the practices of his homeland. Bell’s playful remark points to the same truth: when we travel, our openness can be a greater gift than our steadfastness.

The lesson, then, is clear: hold your convictions, but carry them lightly when you enter the world of others. At home, nurture your chosen path with strength and integrity. But when you travel, let curiosity, humility, and respect guide you, even if it means setting aside what is familiar. In practice, this means tasting the meals of strangers, partaking in the customs of new lands, and remembering that the heart of travel is not to reinforce the self but to expand it.

Thus, Lake Bell’s words, though wrapped in humor, are a teaching: that to be vegan at home but flexible abroad is not betrayal, but recognition of life’s dual wisdom. Discipline roots us; adaptability frees us. And the traveler who learns both shall not only see the world, but truly enter it, tasting its fullness, and carrying back not only stories, but a broader soul.