Who We Become Between Cultures

Hi, I'm Daniela, and after years of traveling, living, and working in different countries, I've realized there's something many travelers have in common. I don't think our essence ever really changes. That first ingredient we're made of, that stays with us. But little by little, every place and every person we meet leaves a mark on us.

Our perspective changes. Our habits change. Sometimes even our language changes.

Not because we're trying to become someone else, or because we're any less proud of where we come from, but because every place leaves something in us… and we leave something of ourselves in every place.

Somewhere along the way, our identity stops belonging to just one place and becomes a collection of people, conversations, traditions, and memories scattered across the world.

The funny thing is that these changes rarely happen through big life events. They happen through everyday moments.

As an Argentine, I grew up answering "de nada" whenever someone thanked me. After spending time in Costa Rica, I naturally began replying "con gusto." At first, it felt like I was simply adapting to the local way of speaking. But after hearing it over and over again, I realized it carried a completely different meaning.

"De nada"(“It's nothing”) almost dismisses the effort you've made, no matter how small it was. "Con gusto" ("my pleasure") celebrates it. It acknowledges that helping someone, even if it's just opening a door, giving directions, or saying "bless you" after a sneeze, deserves to be received with gratitude rather than minimized. I didn't just learn two new words. I learned a different way of understanding kindness.

Living between cultures has also changed the way I look at traditions, especially my own.

Working with students here in Costa Rica has taught me that one of the most beautiful parts of cultural exchange isn't learning what's different, it's learning to recognize what is meaningful.

Before visiting local families with our students, I always explain that if they're served arroz con pollo, they're not simply being offered lunch. They're being welcomed with one of the country's most cherished comfort foods, a dish that represents celebration, hospitality, and pride on a plate. Most Costa Ricans know that gallo pinto(the quintessential Costa Rican breakfast) defines their breakfasts because it's unique. Fewer stop to think about what arroz con pollo represents in the moments that matter most. Once you begin seeing another culture that way, you can't help but return home with new eyes.

One of the greatest gifts traveling has given me is rediscovering my own country. Streets I've walked a thousand times suddenly look different. Traditions I once took for granted become extraordinary. Sometimes the greatest journey isn't crossing an ocean, it's learning to see home as if you were visiting it for the very first time.

There is another change that is much harder to explain.

There is something strangely liberating about arriving somewhere nobody knows you.

Nobody expects you to be the person you've always been. Nobody remembers the version of you from ten years ago. You don't have to protect an identity you've spent a lifetime building.

Somehow, far away from home, I've often become more myself than I've ever been.

I've found it easier to tell people how much they mean to me. To cry without embarrassment when it's time to say goodbye. To be vulnerable without worrying whether someone will think, "She wasn't like this before."

Travel has taught me that strength isn't about hiding your emotions. Sometimes strength is allowing yourself to feel them completely.

Maybe that's why I've made very deep friendships with people I'd only known for a few days or weeks. When you share meals, challenges, conversations, laughter, homesickness, and unforgettable experiences every single day, time starts measuring something different. Sometimes you don't need so many days to change the way you see another person—and yourself.

Living out of a suitcase has changed me in quiet ways too.

I've gone to parties wearing hiking boots because they were the only shoes I had with me. Years ago, I probably would have care about it. Today, I barely think about it. Living this way has taught me that we need far less than we believe we do. Nobody remembers what you were wearing.

They remember how you made them feel.

Maybe that's what living between cultures really does.

It doesn't erase where you come from.

It expands it.

We often think traveling changes where we live.

Maybe what it really changes is who we are.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped belonging to just one place.

I belong to conversations held in different languages.

To recipes that remind me of people.

To words that don't exist in my country but somehow feel like mine.

To airport hugs that feel like family.

To friendships scattered across different continents.

To little pieces of home scattered across the world.

And somehow, without ever planning it, I became a little bit of every place that welcomed me.

If you've been waiting for the right moment to travel, to move abroad, to apply for that opportunity, to step into the unknown, or simply to say yes to something that scares you, let this be your reminder.

Growth rarely begins when everything feels comfortable.

Sometimes it begins the moment you allow yourself to belong somewhere new.

You might return with the same passport.

But you'll never return with the same heart.