I packed another duffel bag to the point where I could barely zipper it closed. I headed downstairs for another weekend away from home and yet another lengthy car ride, consisting of naps and bags of goldfish. My mom and I drove through the night, pausing at rundown rest stops (of which are all too familiar) to take a break from the seemingly never-ending journey. Once we reached the hotel room, we instantly fell asleep upon contact with the white sheets. The following morning included mediocre buffet breakfast and more time in the car to arrive at the final destination.

Until last year, I played for lacrosse and volleyball club teams that required attendance to tournaments out of town almost every weekend during the year. I dreaded the long weekends cooped up in a dimly lit hotel room, mindlessly staring at the television and avoiding my teammates. I would glance through social media to see all the things I was missing out on back at home, jealous of the memories my friends were making without me. It took my mother dragging me out of the hotel room before I realized that these trips did not have to be terrible after all. We found the best coffee shops or restaurants around town and made it our mission to experience them like the locals. In addition to searching for swanky restaurants, my mom also suggested that my family participate in educational activities while out of town, so in the bigger cities we visited art museums.

While visiting Washington, D.C. for a volleyball tournament, I was convinced this trip would end up in the books as one that was no fun. Because we had some free time during this weekend, my mom and I paid a visit to the National Gallery of Art. The moment I sauntered into one of the galleries, I was mesmerized. I stared in awe at the countless walls in front of me, covered with canvases depicting masterpieces that I had only ever seen in books or on the Internet before. With works by Pissarro, Monet, Degas, and Van Gogh surrounding me, I found myself suddenly engrossed in the stories that these artists were trying to tell. I made it my priority to visit the museums when participating in tournaments in Philadelphia and Cleveland to absorb all the information that I could in the short hour that I had in between games. Soon I began to look forward to tournaments, not because of the athletic activities, but because of the museum visits that we always carved out time for.

These international artists and the messages conveyed through their paintings sparked my interest in learning more about the world’s languages, cultures, and histories. Italian class at school became relevant because I realized that I had the privilege to become fluent in a timeless language, which would give me the ability to later learn about Italian culture. My closed mind was suddenly opened; I could see the world in a different way than I did before, I yearned for opportunities to learn something new. I became more comfortable exploring the world outside of my hometown and started paying more attention to global news. I craved to actively understand the world’s issues as events happened. I made frequent visits to the local art museum, and could still find something new to marvel at every time.

These expeditions influenced many of the classes I selected as part of my senior year class schedule and guided me to decide what I want to study for the next few years of my life. Although I have missed out on countless social events while away many weekends, I learned there is so much information about the world that cannot be explored while trapped in a hotel room, mindlessly texting my friends or watching a low-rated reality show.