I try to visit new destinations, but I like my old favourites better

OpinionTravel writerSeptember 4, 2026 — 5:00amSeptember 4, 2026 — 5:00amI’ve been to Thailand something like 20 times. I don’t say this as a flex, it’s simply a testament to falling in love with a country that has done nothing but love me back.This love gets deeper, weirder, and more delicious with every trip, tempting my heart and twisting my arm into booking my tickets.Illustration: Jamie BrownThese days, landing in Bangkok feels like coming home. I’ll breeze through customs, get on the Skytrain, and step out into the warm embrace of that sticky air. I’ll go to my favourite restaurant, stay in my go-to hotel, and drink at a bar where the owner remembers me, casually slipping into the comfort that familiarity breeds.But an important part of travel is being uncomfortable. It’s that woah feeling you get when the world stops making sense and you have to piece together the puzzle that you’ve parachuted into.It’s about being woken up at 5am by the call to prayer or eating unknown parts of an unnamed animal from a stall on the side of the road, things you might not agree with but are an important part of understanding the complexities of this world. These truths leave me in such a position that I know I should search for new horizons, but my heart keeps pulling me back to the ones I love.Sign up for the Traveller newsletterThe latest travel news, tips and inspiration delivered to your inbox. Sign up now.Ask Thailand, Japan, or any of my other favourites, and I’m sure they’ll tell you the same thing: I’m a great repeat customer. I tip big by learning the language and I’m slowly making my way through even the most obscure parts of their menus. In doing so, I’ve done things that few travellers experience.I’ve come to an uncomfortable conclusion that none of these new countries make me feel nearly as good as the ones I’ve left behind.But every month I’ve spent in a Japanese fishing village has come at a cost, and it’s about more than dollars and yen. Time, too, is a traveller’s greatest commodity, and by going deep into these countries, I’ve robbed myself of the opportunity to see more. There are only so many trips one can take in this life and much of my world is still a blank page waiting to be written.I’ve been trying my best to fill these pages by seeing at least two new countries a year, a luxury I’m afforded thanks to the foolish notion that people want to read what I write about travel. As I’ve branched out from the familiar and found myself floundering in the foreign, I’ve come to an uncomfortable conclusion that none of these new countries make me feel nearly as good as the ones I’ve left behind.There might be excitement in newness but there is a reason why polygamy doesn’t work and when you find someone you love, I’ve long believed that you should hold on to them and never let them go.Of course, we’re talking about travel, not relationships. But you’d be amazed by the parallels between the two and, much like love, there is nothing rational about travel. It’s purely emotional. A deadly combination of chemicals and butterflies that sweeps us off our feet and takes us to places we never thought we’d go.I’ll never be able to articulate, in any substantial way, why I love Thailand the way I do. But I can tell you what SangSom tastes like when the sun is burning red, the sky is growing dark, and you’re drinking with two Thai farmers in a shack on the side of their rice paddy.The answer, of course, is delicious, and it’s the kind of taste I wouldn’t trade for flirting with the hottest new destination in the world.Paul Marshall is a Sydney-based travel writer who got lost on the Banana Pancake Trail and never found his way back. A champion of backpacking and budget-savvy travel, he specialises in B-side destinations and learning just enough of the local language to order a beer (but no follow-up questions, please). Follow him on instagram.com/paulmarshalltravelsConnect via email.From our partners