The Washington Post’s List vs. My Reality: A 40-Year Travel Audit
The Evolution of the Traveler: From Paper Tickets to AI Prompts
A recent article in The Washington Post titled "25 ways travel has changed this century" (by Natalie B. Compton, Andrea Sachs, Hannah Sampson, and Gabe Hiatt) sent me down a deep rabbit hole of nostalgia.
The authors chronicle the death of MapQuest, the rise of the "bucket list," and the shift from "hard pants" to athleisure. It is a brilliant list. But as I read it, I realized that for those of us who started traveling internationally in the 80s and 90s, the changes are even more seismic.
We have moved from an era of scarcity and friction to an era of abundance and access. Here is how the world has changed through my window seat—from the upper deck of a 747 in 1980 to a houseboat in Kerala in 2026.
The Era of "Guests," Not Cargo (The 1980s)
The Post notes that airlines have "abandoned the middle class," unbundling fares until every amenity has a price tag. I felt this deeply because my first trip out of India set a bar that modern travel rarely meets.
It was the 1980s. I was flying Air India to Stockholm, seated in the upper deck of the "Maharajah" 747. It wasn't just transportation; it was an occasion. I spent hours admiring the amenities kit, which included a pair of socks that I suspect are still in my home somewhere, 40 years later. We were treated like guests.
But that era had a harder edge, too.
When we landed in Germany for transit, I experienced the shock of "othering" for the first time. Immigration officers stood right at the bridge, checking the visas and passports of only the brown people. We were just transiting, yet we were suspect.
On a subsequent Lufthansa flight, I remember the simple fascination of being served by a white woman—a dynamic that was entirely new to me then.
The Analog Culture Shock
The Post writers mention that "Smartphones put maps in our hands." Before that, we navigated by wit and sheer terror.
Arriving in Stockholm was like landing on Mars. I remember being baffled by cars driving with their headlights on during the day—daytime running lights were a safety feature I had never seen. And then there was the subway. Without a glowing blue dot on a screen to tell me where I was, taking that first subway ride was terrifying.
Traveling to Russia in the 90s was an exercise in obedience. We flew Aeroflot via Lahore, where we were strictly told not to leave our seats. In Tashkent, we stopped for fuel—technically checking off another country without ever touching the ground. The cabin crew collected our passports during the flight, presumably to ensure we didn't destroy them to seek asylum.
The Post laments the "demise of customer service." But in the 90s, on those routes, customer service didn't exist. Authority existed.
The Physicality of Travel
Domestic travel in India during that time was an endurance sport. Air travel was unaffordable, so we took the train.
I recall landing in Delhi and taking the train back to Warangal. It was a long, exhausting haul. Once, in the dead of night, we dozed off and missed our stop. We scrambled off at Khammam, disoriented and tired. We had to take a rickshaw to the bus stand, a bus back to Warangal, and another rickshaw home.
There were no Uber apps to save us. There was no Google Maps to alert us that our stop was approaching. You simply had to stay awake.
The Shift: 9/11 and the Internet Age
The Post correctly identifies 9/11 as the creator of the "security state." I felt this shift viscerally. My travel to the US in the late 90s involved a train to Mumbai (to save money), Air France to Paris, and finally a flight to Washington D.C.
I remember window shopping in the Paris airport and being verbally assaulted by a woman who yelled at me in French, seemingly just for being there. The world was connecting, but the barriers were rising.
But then, the internet began to democratize information.
By the 2000s, TripAdvisor became my bible. The Post mentions that "TripAdvisor trumps guidebooks," and they are right. I remember needing a car service in London during a stopover. In the old days, I would have been at the mercy of a taxi stand. Instead, I used a TripAdvisor recommendation. It was flawless.
The Present: Curation and AI
Today, the friction of the 80s is gone, replaced by what Rick Steves calls "too much information."
Hyderabad is now a global hub. I have swapped the multi-stop Aeroflot sagas for 14-hour direct flights or seamless connections through the Middle East.
But the biggest change is how I plan.
- For Nostalgia: I recently returned to Lund, Sweden, and spent two days in Copenhagen. The terror of the subway is gone. I navigated with the confidence of a local because my phone told me exactly where to go.
- For Discovery: My best vacation ever—a trip to Croatia—was planned entirely via Booking.com.
- For Visualization: The Post mentions that "YouTube replaces travel TV." I live this. Before I go anywhere, I watch YouTubers walk the streets I plan to visit. I know what the food looks like before I order it.
- For Micro-Details: Facebook groups now provide the granular advice that even AI misses.
A Note of Gratitude
Reflecting on these 25 years (and the years before them), I am struck by how much easier it is to be a curious person today.
The "bucket list" might be a marketing term now, but the ability to fulfill it has never been more accessible. I can use AI to plan a trip to the Andamans, use an app to book a houseboat in Cochin, and use a translation tool to read a menu in Tokyo.
To the YouTubers, the TripAdvisor reviewers, and the strangers in Facebook groups who share their tips: Thank you. You have replaced the fear of the unknown with the excitement of the expected.
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