2. When I became a member of the guild

Hanging from the zipper of my camera bag is a small, bronze key. It grants me access to the backdoor of the Christian IV’s Guild clubhouse in the Danish city of Aalborg. Over the past year, I’ve accumulated soccer jerseys, paintings and a handwritten poem about an Italian horse, but this key, a symbol of my membership in a Danish society with roots in World War II, has to be the oddest gift. How I got it is just one of many examples of how dropping your guard and letting strangers into your life can lead to experiences far outside the realm of conventional tourism.

It started with Kit Sorensen, a friend twice-removed, who I met on my first afternoon in Aalborg. By the evening, she had taken off work for the remainder of the week to show me around. She took me out for pickled fish and aquavit, the straight-to-your-head spirit that Danes insist on drinking with lunch. Together, we explored World War II bunkers and the city-within-a-city of Fjordbyen. Sensing that I craved a home-cooked meal, she invited me to her family’s house, where I made even more friends — and got invited by a stranger to join the Christian IV’s Guild because he felt that “I had what it takes.”

When traveling alone, it’s up to you how alone you really are. Sit at a bar and take a break from your phone and in minutes you’ll be getting a laundry list of things to do from a local — as I did in Munich, in Danang, in Tunis. You might be invited to their homes — as I was in Georgia, Puerto Rico, Bulgaria. In a quiet bar in the small Japanese city of Takamatsu you might find yourself the only customer, going on a deep dive into salsa and New Orleans jazz with a cat-loving bartender who you would have never known if you hadn’t smiled and said “hello.”

There are walls that as a man traveling alone I didn’t have to put up. Being ethnically ambiguous was also, it turns out, my superpower, blending into the streets of so many places around the world, walking home at night and not even getting a second glance from locals. One’s experience of the world so often depends on one’s identity, and I can only speak to mine. At the same time, I believe that, in general, travelers will encounter kindness far more often than hostility. An open mind, a willingness to learn and an acknowledgment of our own ignorance about a new place or culture flings the doors that separate us wide open. Just ask all my new pen pals.