Opinion: tallying up the countries you've visited misses the point entirely

Who's counting? Lucy Thackray is tired of hearing about how many countries you've visited.

Can you remember when you hit double figures? In countries you’ve visited, that is. The big 1-0 must be some sort of travel milestone, yet I’ve no idea whether I was 15 or 28 when I passed it.

I’d never given it much thought – any, really – until I started using dating apps. In the braggy world of Tinder, Bumble, and the like, ‘countries visited’ is a key stat chucked out like football scores:

Age: 27
Height: 6’2
Countries: 45 & counting [fist pump emoji]

It’s even creeping into people’s Instagram and Twitter profiles. So why do I have no idea what my tally is?

The more I’ve travelled, the more I find people who are competitive about travel so utterly tiresome – particularly when it comes to boasting about how many countries you’ve ‘done’, as opposed to what you loved about them.

Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash

Yet travel is currency in the digital world – somewhere between gap years and Instagram, we seem to have agreed that getting on planes makes you a better person – certainly a more attractive one. And a love of travel can be intriguing: if someone tells me they love Japan, or New York, I instantly assume we’ll get on. But it completely baffles me when my fellow travel nuts fixate on the number of countries they, or I, have visited. Mentioning to a new acquaintance that I travel a bit for work, I barely have time to count down the milliseconds until the question comes: ‘Oh yeah? How many countries have you been to?’

Your trips are not notches on some travel bedpost

And I don’t mean to sound blasé or spoiled when I say, truthfully, that I have no idea. I never started counting. But more importantly, it’s a blindingly off-putting question. It makes me itch. You’re making my lovely, memory-packed trips abroad notches on some travel bedpost. And don’t get me started on the notion of having ‘done’ a country in one visit. In some nations, I’ve spent 48 hours on the ground. I wouldn’t consider them ticked off. Others are huge and diverse, and I’ve only seen a small patch of earth. I could visit 20 times and not have ‘done’ them.

I do understand why everything’s such a numbers game, now. Social media encourages all of us to watch our followers, likes and – creepiest of all – ‘views’ like hawks. And it’s not just travel – such inane trophies as festivals raved at, marathons run and celeb-selfies taken all enhance your perfectly curated digital brand. Travel is the new designer clothing: we gawp at those who have loads of it, and berate ourselves for not having the same amount.

Photo by Sharon Christina Rørvik on Unsplash

And, like posh handbags, travel costs money. What we’re saying when we give our country tally is: I have lots of money and free time. In that light, ‘countries visited’ is rather tacky – like listing ‘cars bought’ or ‘promotions had’. It’s an odd thing to choose to represent you. Is someone a better person for visiting every bit of Southeast Asia, not just one? Can we buy sophistication or taste with four holidays a year? It’s tricky to pinpoint just what listing your number reveals about you.

If you’re set on racking up maximum countries, you probably haven’t gone back to many twice. And you might be the poorer for it. Getting to know a place deeply and meaningfully is one of the most fabulous travel experiences of all. It becomes a second home, a familiar embrace. Once you can cook the dishes, speak the language and find that secret beach no one else visits on Wednesdays, you won’t be sorry that it’s kept you on ‘16 countries’ for the best part of a decade.

I’m calling for a country-counting ban

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from frequent travelling, it’s that some of it sucks. To hit that tally, you’re probably counting that one miserable week on the Costa del Sol where your overbooked hotel bumped you to another down the road, the breakfast gave you food poisoning, and you and your partner rowed relentlessly until the silent plane ride home. Do we get fewer travel points for that one?

Photo by Manuel Moreno on Unsplash

I’m never sure of the rules of the count, either. What of travels in your own country? Is that country number one, or are we excluding it completely? Some of my most vivid travel moments have been on home soil: rambles through jade green in the Peak District, with dragonflies buzzing by; days out on a boat along Cornwall’s Roseland Peninsula, eating prawn cocktails and plunging into teal shallows; the icy breeze at the top of Arthur’s Seat, a patchwork of lilac and moss scrub lit by piercing rays through moody cloud. Does 24 hours in dry Dubai count more for being Not-Britain, and adding to the tally?

If so, I’m calling for a country-counting ban. That time you went to stay with your cousin in Norfolk is every bit as valid as your first dip into South America, if its broad beaches and cinematic skies made you feel a little different about life. Been back to Languedoc every year since visiting as a high-schooler? I applaud you, and want to taste your expert cassoulet.

For my part, I may never tot up my countries visited, but I just might take a little audit of my travels so far. And I can tell you that my focus will be quality, not quantity. I’ll see, perhaps, how many different jungles, clifftops, glinting skyscrapers and kaleidoscopic snorkels I can conjure up, just for me. I might even write them down, testing my memory’s ability to dive for these travel pearls, years after I first grasped them. The grand total may not make it into my social media profiles, but if you ask, I might tell you my favourite.

It’s certainly a better opener than, ‘How many countries?’

Lead image by Paul Gilmore on Unsplash. Lucy Thackray is commissioning editor of The Sunday Times Travel Magazine.

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