I was fortunate to grow up in a household where my parents loved to travel. My father, especially, would get the “travel itch,” and announce things like, “let’s go to Ireland,” or, “I’d really like to see the Parthenon.” In 1971, I was nine years old, and my father was up for a teaching sabbatical, so he moved the family to Cambridge England for a year: My mom, me, my older sister and two older brothers all were up for an adventure, but I was not too keen on leaving my friends back home in Minnesota.

When we arrived in Cambridge England, my mom made sure we were all enrolled in school. I was a bit miffed that I had to wear a uniform, the whole “Harry Potter” thing: Plaid skirt, white shirt and black and green-stripped tie, black loafers. I felt like an outsider the first day of school, the awkward American, a fish-out-of-water. I missed my friends back home in St. Paul, and I missed Skippy peanut butter.

As it turned out, that was one of the best years of my life. That year, we traveled all over England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. We went to France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Greece and to the countries behind the iron curtain. We met so many individuals, so many gracious people, we saw a multitude of monuments, museums and historical places. I tried foods that I had never dreamed of trying before, such as marinated octopus in Athens, or pistachio ice cream in Budapest.

That year of tramping through Europe brought out the travel itch in me as well. As an adult, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel to Iceland, the Yucatan, Peru, India, Nepal, Nicaragua, Italy, Denmark, Norway and Sweden. Although I’m in my fifties, I’m not done traveling yet! There are still so many places and cultures to see and experience.

One thing I have discovered from my travels abroad: Travel not only opens the mind, but is good for the soul and grows the heart. Sure, I was out of my comfort zone several times, for example, when it came to traveling alone in Nepal, a country where I didn’t speak the language, and a place where my dyed blonde hair was quite a different site for the locals. Or my husband and I walking the streets of Venice at night, lost and looking for our hotel. But in the end, virtually everyone I have met in my travels has enriched my life in some way, big and small.

With that, I believe that people all over the world, no matter the culture, age, religion, or political bent, have more in common than not. You just never know who you are going to meet, and you just might just make a connection with that stranger.

For example, when I was in Turkey, I hopped a local, very crowded bus. I was a bit weary from sight-seeing, and looked around for a seat. All seats were taken. Right beside me, a woman in full burka, motioned for me to sit beside her as she scooted over to make a spot for my behind. I smiled, thanked her, sat down next to her, and was pleasantly surprised that she spoke English. That was my initial prejudice coming to the surface, I didn’t expect anyone on that crowded bus to speak English, much less a Muslim woman in full burka. As it turned out, that kind woman was fluent in English, and told me her son was attending Colorado State University in Colorado, and that she had been to Colorado several times. As I thanked the woman, said good bye and exited the bus, I was pleasantly surprised that here, in this place, so far from home, that I had something in common with a stranger.

Another example would be Nicaragua. My youngest daughter and I spent a week in Granada, Nicaragua, and in the surrounding communities working with the non-profit organization called World Vets. As avid horse-women, we were excited to be working with veterinarians and veterinary nurses in providing much-needed veterinary care for the local cart horses. Out team provided vaccines, de-worming, hoof and dental care, as well as castrations and other surgical services. One day, while working on a multitude of horses at a soccer-field outside of Granada, I needed to use the toilet. After standing for several hours in the hot sun assisting the veterinarians, guzzling water, I just couldn’t hold it anymore. I had to go, and there sure were no bushes nearby. I surveyed the houses nearby, cinder-block homes, where some of the roofs were nothing more than plastic tarps, and slapped-together bits of corrugated steel. I walked to a house, where a group of women spanning several generations were sitting on broken plastic chairs, chatting. I politely asked for a toilet in my broken Spanish, and a gracious, young woman stood up and directed me to a toilet. It was more of an out-house, a toilet enclosed by plastic tarps and plywood. My initial reaction was “yuck!” But I didn’t want to offend the woman, and besides, I needed to go. Afterwards, I offered the woman some cash for her troubles, and she put up her hands, and replied “tranquilo, tranquilo.” I was so moved by this. This woman, who by our standards was beyond dirt poor, asked nothing in return for her hospitality.

The generosity, and graciousness of these two women was so moving to me. I was a stranger in their country, but they made me feel welcome.

So what’s the point of this blog entry? Like Mark Twain said: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” If you’re lucky enough to travel, even to another part of the U.S., or hopefully another country, you’ll meet all sorts of people who have more in common with you than not. In this time of marked political division in America, how can we discard our prejudices, open our eyes and realize that we’re all of the same race, the human race? Travel is the first step. And travel doesn’t have to be flying to the Taj Mahal, or going on a Cruise of the Caribbean, you can do it right in your own community. Get out of your comfort zone, go explore. Go to a Vietnamese restaurant for dinner, visit a local mosque or church, attend a cultural event. You just might make some friends.