The more you travel, the better you get at it. It sounds silly

"The more you travel, the better you get at it. It sounds silly, but with experience you learn how to pack the right way. I remember one of my first trips abroad, travelling around Europe by rail, fresh out of high school. I brought all these books with me and a paint set. I really had too much stuff, so I’ve learnt to be more economical." Thus spoke Roman Coppola, and in his words lies a truth that extends far beyond the art of travel itself. For every journey is both outward and inward: the outward road leads across lands and seas, while the inward road teaches us wisdom, patience, and the strength to carry only what is truly needed.

The ancients too knew this lesson. Did not the disciples of the Buddha walk barefoot with only a bowl, teaching that the less one carries, the freer one becomes? Did not the Stoics counsel simplicity, reminding men that possessions enslave more than they liberate? The young traveler, eager and untested, often brings too much—burdened by books, tools, and objects of comfort. But as the road grows long and the weight presses down, he learns that economy is not deprivation but liberation. For the lighter the load, the farther the traveler may go.

Coppola recalls his early days, fresh out of high school, with a rail pass in hand and his pack overflowing. This image is familiar to all who have begun their first great adventure: the innocence of youth, the excitement of crossing borders, and the mistake of clinging to excess. With time, he discovered that travel teaches by stripping away illusions. You need less than you think. The true riches of the road are not in what you carry, but in what you discover, in the encounters, in the moments etched upon memory.

History gives us many examples of this wisdom. When the great Hannibal marched across the Alps, he shed what could not be carried, taking only what was essential to his army’s survival. When the pilgrims journeyed to holy shrines, they abandoned heavy possessions, trusting in providence and in the kindness of strangers. Even great explorers like Shackleton learned, in the crucible of hardship, to let go of luxury and cling only to the vital tools of endurance. The lesson has echoed through every age: simplicity sustains the journey, excess breaks it.

Children of tomorrow, learn this: in travel, and in life, the art of carrying less is the art of living more. Do not cling to things that weigh you down—whether they are possessions, regrets, or fears. Every heavy burden slows the step and clouds the joy of discovery. Travel teaches economy not only of baggage but of spirit, showing us that the heart grows freer when it holds only what it truly needs: love, courage, curiosity, and hope.

Practical wisdom lies close at hand. Before each journey, ask yourself: "Do I carry this out of need, or out of fear of letting go?" Practice the discipline of lightness. Learn to pack wisely, not only in luggage, but in life—choose simplicity in speech, moderation in desire, clarity in purpose. For to live with economy is not to lack, but to walk with freedom.

Thus the lesson is plain: travel is a teacher, and with each mile, it strips away what is unnecessary, leaving only the essential. Roman Coppola’s story of too many books and a paint set is the story of us all, for we all begin by carrying more than we should. But with time and wisdom, we learn to lighten the load. Let us then be travelers who walk lightly—upon the earth, within our hearts, and through our lives—so that the road ahead may stretch wide and full of wonder.