He also doesn’t bog the reader down with packing lists or itineraries (he suggests a backpack and a good attitude). This book is obsessively researched, full of quotes and sources compiled by someone who has clearly dedicated their lives to getting lost. “A vacation, after all, merely rewards work,” Potts states. He ties the importance of earning travel to its cathartic and psychological benefits, which was super actualizing for me, someone who is currently working many hours to make long-term travel happen. As in, “how do I fund this expensive hobby without being a trust fund kid”-type work. One of my favorite bits of the book is when Potts addresses the hard work associated with long-term travel. I like seeing a snapshot into a time when we didn’t obsessively research locations before we committed to seeing them, when things didn’t have to be “the best” in order for them to be great. The world is more connected now, but it’s also lonelier. I was amused when I read this because the book dates itself frequently in these little ways but it does so in a way that I actually really enjoyed because it spoke to a bygone era of “wandering” and “getting lost” that is almost completely impossible these days. For example, Potts specifically encourages limited internet research because the “message boards” tend to be biased.

In fact, much of the advice is comically and endearingly outdated. Written in 2002, it is not actually a super helpful guide. It’s been on every “travel book list” that I’ve ever read, and I finally sat down and bit the bullet, and I’m glad I did. It’s sat parked on my iBooks app, long before I even started considering my own long-term travel plans. I have wanted to want to read this book for years now, but for some reason it evaded my interest for years.

Rolf potts books