Author: The Road Penn Traveled

They did what to you in Philadelphia? Así en la calle, sin provocación?

Sí, sí.

Puta. Yeah, that doesn’t happen here.

Guatemala City, October 2025
Ashkan R.

At 20, I thought I knew everything. I pitched Josh on a hostel in Puerto Rico; I had stayed in so many in Europe. He obliged. Unfortunately — and these things happen — it turned out to be a homeless shelter. We stayed two nights, he wanted to leave, and I told him I’d plan better next time.

At 21, I thought I knew everything. I told Josh I’d struck gold with this idea. Unfortunately, he soon found himself psychedelically trapped outside of the space-time continuum at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I called us an Uber back and agreed to be more discerning next time.

I’m 22 now. I’ve learned all I need to. I have a killer trip to Afghanistan lined up for us next. Just need to get Josh on board.

San Juan, October 2022
Ashkan R.

There’s a rat in my room. There’s not much I can do about it. I can’t leave. It’s not leaving either.

After bed bugs, mosquitos, spiders, sunburns, and quarter-sized blisters, I’ve come to appreciate the entropy of the world’s least visited country for its unapologetic absurdity. I hope the rat likes Karol G — we’re jamming tonight.

Tuvalu, August 2025
Ashkan R.

“Soap on you.” 

She slid her finger across my back and showed me the foam. I thanked her. I walked back into the shower and winced as I submitted myself, fully this time, to the downpour of freezing water. 

I didn’t question the gesture. It was late — and if I were to question everything at Save’s Homestay I wouldn’t have time to do much else.

Votualevu, August 2025
Ashkan R.

I asked to sit next to the Dutch girl, the only other solo traveler here. I hoped to get to know her — she spoke less English than I envisioned.

We sat in silence and finished our lunch, and then sat a while longer. Together, we listened to the waves gently brush against the coast as wooden boats teetered and tipsy Australians were being loud about something or other.

It kind of felt like feeding pigeons with an elderly Chinese woman in Central Park. Not that I’ve done that — but I could tell we were both just content to be there, present, and with a buddy. We didn’t have to talk about it. 

Fiji, August 2025
Ashkan R.

11 hours to fly and what a relief it was to see a near-empty plane. Look at this beautiful gift from God — we could have our own rows, even! What a relief, after spending 12 nights cramped in one bed and 25 hours in one car, to rediscover the luxury of space. But our tickets said 18B and 18C. And who were we to break the law? 

Marrakesh, May 2024
Ashkan R.

I won’t spoil the inside of La Sagrada Familia for you with an image. But I’ll tell you this.

When you arrive at the right time, late afternoon or sunset preferably — whenever the sunlight slants the right way — Gaudí’s stained glass expels color. I didn’t know color could be tangible, yet it is.

It almost makes you want to convert.

Barcelona, January 2025
Jeff K.

Please. Not another church.

Europe, March 2025
Anonymous

“Creature comforts.” It’s a term I’d never heard before. I’d never thought of myself as a creature. But after a long day of trekking, yes, you feel better when you have a blanket (however thin or compressible) in your sleeping bag. When you have an air pillow behind your head. 

If there’s anything the tent has taught me, it’s how nice it is to have a proper warm bed.

Pumalín Douglas Tompkins National Park, January 2025
Daniel B.

By day four, we were already a team. One formed not through deep talks (at first; that would come later), but through soaked socks, trail sweat, and post-dinner dish duty. We didn’t have our phones. I didn’t miss mine. Mornings started early, calm. It wasn’t my Penn life, but I was getting used to it. Time was slow. Trust came fast. It didn’t feel rushed. It felt earned. 

Pumalín Douglas Tompkins National Park, January 2025
Daniel B.