After visiting 17 countries, I discovered the most fun (and craziest) way to travel

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After traveling to lots of different places in all kinds of ways, I think I’ve finally found the most fun (and slightly insane) way to travel.

I truly believe a little hardship or “perrengue” in portuguese (that unavoidable travel struggle) is part of every trip, but most of the time, we do everything we can to avoid it. Still, after a nearly traumatic situation in Madrid, I realized something: forcing a bit of chaos might be the best way to actually be present and really live a place.

Let me give you some context.

After five months living in Europe and visiting different countries, during my last week before flying back to Brazil, I went to Spain.

I had a plan.

My idea was to land at Madrid airport and head to Salamanca. I knew exactly which bus to take, but I had one problem: I only had cash, and not much money on my card.

If you’ve ever been abroad in that situation, you probably know this: if you’re not a citizen and you don’t have a local bank account, you often can’t just deposit cash into your digital account. (Which is honestly ridiculous in a “globalized” world.)

Guess what: the bus station at Madrid airport only sells tickets online—no counter, no human help. And apparently, I didn’t have the money on the “tarjeta” (card in spanish) to pay for the ticket.

After about 20 minutes trying to figure out what to do, I decided to leave the airport and go to the station in the city center, where I was sure there’d be an actual service desk.

I opened Google Maps, picked the best route, and went for it… until I hit a problem: my phone died (and of course I didn’t have a power bank). I got to the station and there was nowhere to charge my phone. That’s when it hit me how dependent we are on a device. I had to figure things out alone, in a foreign country, in places I’d never been before.

1. No translator;
2. No Maps;
3. No way to communicate.

I only managed to charge my phone seven hours later—when I arrived in Salamanca. And those seven hours taught me way more than if I’d had my phone the whole time.

I was more alert and present than ever, and I was forced to interact with locals. My Spanish isn’t great, and naturally I’d avoid talking to people as much as possible. My phone usually lets me do that almost completely. But I needed to ask for help, ask for the time, ask for directions.

By the end of the day, when I got to the hotel, I felt amazing—like someone who had to just put themselves out there because they didn’t have all the answers in the palm of their hand.

A few days later, I was back in Madrid. My phone had battery, but I decided to turn off mobile data anyway. My goal? Find the hostel without creating a route on Maps—just by following the metro map and asking strangers for information. It worked! Not in the most efficient way: I took wrong turns, I stopped where I shouldn’t have, but…

1. I talked to strangers in a Spanish I basically made up;
2. I learned how to read the metro map;
3. I saw places I wouldn’t have seen if I’d followed the plan;
4. Finding the hostel felt so much more rewarding than if I’d known exactly where I was going.

That’s when I realized that sometimes convenience isn’t entirely a good thing. You follow apps that make your life easier and your plan rarely goes wrong. The problem? You go on autopilot.

I realized how much our phones steal the privilege of thinking before acting. They steal your attention, and they stop you from truly living your trip.

I’m definitely going to force situations like this again on my next travels.