Should You Learn About a Country Before Traveling There? Yes. Here’s Why It Matters

Graffiti scrawled across a wall in Bali

Let’s start with a little transparency—maybe even a warning: I’m a professor. Which means that not only do I teach for a living, but a big part of my identity is wrapped up in the belief that it’s always better to know more.

And honestly, I’ve been this way long before the job title. Since I was a kid, I’ve been compulsively curious. Drop a topic in front of me and, before I know it, I’ve fallen headfirst down the rabbit hole, reading obscure footnotes and looking up things I didn’t even know existed five minutes earlier (and when I was a kid, I was doing this in an encyclopedia, not on Google).

So, my answer to the question "should you learn about a country before traveling there?" is absolutely yes. No explanation needed. I have a deep appreciation of knowledge for its own sake.

But I also get that not everyone feels the same. That’s why this post isn’t just a plea for general curiosity—it’s a practical argument for why it’s worth taking the time to learn about a place before you travel there. I hope to convince you that investing some time in learning about a place you plan to visit is worth it.

And no, you don’t need to turn every trip into a doctoral dissertation. Even a modest amount of pre-trip learning—about a country’s history, culture, politics, language, or current issues—can profoundly deepen your experience on the ground. Really, there is a big difference between no planning and just a little.

So here are a couple of reasons I think you should learn about a country before you go—followed by some practical suggestions for general sources of pre-travel learning.

Reason 1: It Makes for Deeper Connections with the Places You Visit

Picture this: You’re creeping through the narrow corridors of an ancient Egyptian tomb, doing your best not to breathe too loudly and accidentally set off a mummy curse. The flickering lights barely illuminate the walls, which are covered in elaborate paintings of animal-headed beings doing Very Important Things. You squint at one particular scene: a human heart on one side of a scale… a feather on the other… and what looks suspiciously like a crocodile prepping for a sneak attack.

And then it hits you.

You know exactly what’s going on here. That’s Anubis with the jackal head, weighing the soul. That’s Thoth jotting notes like an underpaid court stenographer. That’s Ma’at’s feather of truth. And that hippo-lion-crocodile thing? That’s Ammut, the ancient Egyptian nightmare pet waiting to eat your heart if you were kind of a jerk in life.

How do you know all this? Because you read the post. You absolute legend! This one, right here.

If you hadn’t done a bit of homework, you’d have stared at that scene for five seconds, thought “Huh, a funky dog-man,” and shuffled along. But instead, you had a full-on Indiana Jones moment, complete with existential stakes and interpretive power.

The Weighing of the Heart

That’s what a sprinkle of learning does. It turns ancient walls into stories, symbols into meaning, and you—from a confused wanderer into an informed nerd hero. All for the low, low price of reading one article. Bargain!

To me, travel, at its best, is about connection. Connecting not just to places, but to people, histories, struggles, beauty, and meaning that run deeper than what fits in a selfie frame. It’s about walking into someone else’s world and doing your best not to stomp around like a clueless giant in hiking sandals.

A little learning before you go? That’s the secret handshake. It helps you connect more deeply to what you’re seeing, and it reveals layers of meaning that unprepared travelers miss entirely. Without it, you're just admiring the wrapping paper. With it, you get to open the gift.

For most of the time we spent in Johannesburg's Soweto neighborhood, I kept my camera put away out of respect. But these gentlemen really, really wanted to do a photo with us.

Take Soweto, Johannesburg. You might wander through a public square, snap a photo of a statue, and move on thinking, “Well, that was nice.” But if you know the story—that a student-led protest here sparked a movement that helped bring down apartheid—then that square becomes hallowed ground. You’re not just standing in a plaza. You’re standing in the heartbeat of history.

Or imagine the famous Khan el-Khalili market in Cairo. It’s a glorious mess of color and noise and people selling things you didn’t know you needed. That alone makes it fun. But if you’ve read Midaq Alley by Naguib Mahfouz, the place comes alive in a different way. It stops being just a market and becomes a stage of human stories. That guy arguing over tea? He becomes a character in your imagination, shaped by what you’ve read. You feel connected not just to the scene, but to the soul of the neighborhood.

Just imagine how many stories sit just under the teeming surface at the Khan el-Khalili Bazaar

Then there’s India—beautiful, complex, and at times, overwhelming. The poverty can be confronting. But if you understand even a little about the caste system, and the ways in which modern India is both shaped by and pushing against it, your empathy gains roots. You’re not just seeing hardship; you’re connecting it to a centuries-old context. You start to see not just suffering, but resilience. Not just inequality, but activism. That changes the way you care.

Pageantry at the Wagah border crossing between India and Pakistan

At the Wagah border between India and Pakistan, the border-closing ceremony is wild: high kicks, intense stares, synchronized stomping—it’s part military ritual, part Broadway. But if you know the tangled history between these two nations, you realize you’re watching something stranger than fiction: connection and division on full, theatrical display.

And Southeast Asia’s Buddhist temples—visually stunning to anyone—offer so much more if you take time to learn. That towering stupa isn’t just decorative—it’s a symbol of the universe. That serene hall isn’t just where the monks hang out—it’s where entire philosophies are preserved. With even a bit of background knowledge, you’re not just walking through pretty buildings. You’re tracing lines of spiritual thought, connecting across centuries.

You remember what you connect with. And learning—even a little—before you go helps forge that connection. It turns your travels into something that sticks, long after your laundry is done and your tan has faded. Because while it’s great to see the world, it’s even better to connect with it.

Reason 2: It Helps You Engage More Respectfully

Look, we’ve all been that traveler at some point—the one who means well but somehow ends up offending an entire neighborhood because we pointed at someone with the wrong finger or unknowingly walked into a sacred space with our shoes on and our elbows out. The good news? A little cultural homework can save you from starring in your own accidental etiquette horror story.

Engaging respectfully with another culture isn’t just about being polite—it’s a backstage pass to deeper experiences. It shows people that you’re not just there to consume the scenery like a buffet, but that you actually care. And when people see that you care? They open up. They welcome you in. They feed you better food than you could have ordered on your own (true story, just keep reading).

The thing is, learning a bit about local customs isn’t hard. It’s usually a matter of remembering a handful of “dos” and “please-don’ts.” Like don’t touch a kid’s head in Thailand. Don’t point your feet at people in Laos. Definitely don’t go waving your left hand around like a baton in India unless you’re ready for a whole new level of side-eye. And always—always—check if shoes need to come off before entering someone’s home, temple, or frankly, carpeted business.

But it’s not just what you avoid—it’s what you do. Even tiny efforts are noticed. English may be the default setting for much of the tourist world, but when you fumble out even a few words in someone’s language, people notice. And they almost always appreciate it. I don’t speak much Thai, but I can say “please” and “thank you” and I can order a plate of khao man gai with the confidence of a chicken-rice connoisseur. The response? Grins. Nods. And more than once, I have gotten extra food, beyond what I ordered and paid for, because I ordered in (very bad) Thai.

That effort makes you stand out. Not as a tourist trying to pass, but as a traveler trying to connect.

Just a note, this won’t work in Paris. Or Madrid. Let’s just say your mileage may vary.

Still, in most of the world, a little cultural prep goes a long way.

For another example, take the time my family was in Malaysia during Ramadan. I’d done a bit of reading and knew what to expect: people gathering to break their fast, food sitting untouched until the call to prayer. So when we joined a public iftar, we ordered our food—and then we waited. Quietly. Respectfully. A local man came over, puzzled, and asked if we were Muslim. When I said no, he looked confused. “Then… you don't need to wait. You can eat?”

I explained that it just didn't seem right for us to eat while everyone else was hungry and waiting. We were happy to wait with them.

And that was it. Suddenly, we weren’t just guests—we were participants. Families around us invited us in. They looked at what we’d ordered, shook their heads, and proceeded to order an entirely new meal for us, explaining the proper way to break the fast: a little bread dipped in water, then slowly into the dishes. It turned a dinner into a moment we’ll never forget.

Getting ready to dig in with our (right) hands at a southern Indian restaurant . . . in Malaysia

Or take our time in southern India, where people traditionally eat with their right hand instead of utensils. We practiced at home before we went—yes, at our dinner table, in Hawaii, scooping curry and rice by hand, and none too gracefully at first. But we got better.

When we entered small local restaurants, I would see the mild panic behind the counter—where were they going to find forks for the clueless foreigners? But when we told them we were totally fine eating with our hands, everything changed. The staff relaxed. Other diners lit up. Suddenly, we were part of the scene. They weren’t watching us anymore—they were eating with us.

And because this is India, where you’re never more than ten seconds from a selfie request, people started lining up to take pictures with us like we were minor celebrities in the world of rice-handling.

So yeah—learning a bit of etiquette might keep you from committing a social faux pas, but more importantly, it’s a signal. It tells people: I’m trying. I respect you. I want to meet you where you are. And that’s the start of real connection.

How to Learn About a Place Without Quitting Your Day Job

So maybe I’ve convinced you. You’re nodding along, thinking Okay fine, I’ll do a little research before I pack my bags and start butchering someone else’s national cuisine with a plastic fork. But you’re also busy. You have work, or school, or children, or a goldfish with abandonment issues. I get it.

Good news: learning doesn’t have to mean earning a degree in anthropology or spending five years meditating in a mountaintop library. It can be simple, flexible, and even kind of fun. Here’s a few ideas on how:

Books (and Audiobooks)

Yes, books still exist. They’re those rectangular things with words on paper (or screens, if you’re fancy). A well-written history or travel memoir can transform your trip from surface-level sightseeing into a layered, eye-opening experience. And if reading feels like one more chore, download an audiobook and listen while you drive, do laundry, or pretend to listen to your kids/parents/professors.

Hot tip: Historical fiction counts! Sure, you might have to fact-check whether that 17th-century Mongol warlord actually said “bro,” but stories have a sneaky way of making places feel alive.

Ask the Internet (Cautiously)

Google is your friend—mostly. A basic search like “history of Cambodia for travelers” or “cultural norms in Vietnam” will usually net you a decent overview. Be wary of any site with flashing neon text and five pop-ups, but otherwise, you’re golden. Probably.

Travel bloggers (hi!) often write whole posts on this stuff. And if you’re not into sifting through wordy articles, you can even ask AI to give you a summary—just remember to fact-check it before quoting it to strangers on a train.

Change Your Homepage to a Local News Source

Set your browser homepage (or start your day) with a news outlet that covers your destination—especially if it’s in your own language or has a good English edition. You'll learn about current events, holidays, even controversies, which makes you less likely to put your foot in your mouth. Also, you’ll seem wildly informed when someone mentions the local election and you casually nod like yes, of course, the runoff results were quite unexpected.

Podcasts

Multitask your way to enlightenment. There’s a podcast for every corner of the globe, from deep dives on geopolitics to short episodes explaining local customs or quirky historical moments. Whether you’re cooking dinner or stuck in traffic, you can be learning about, say, the fall of the Khmer Empire or the intricacies of modern-day Balkan politics. Bonus: some are hilarious, some are dramatic, and none require you to put on pants.

Language (A Little Goes a Long Way)

You do not need to become fluent. You do not even need to be good. You just need to try. A few polite phrases in the local language—hello, please, thank you, I would like one bowl of noodles please—go a long way. Tools like Duolingo are helpful if you already have a language base, but for total beginners, YouTube videos or phrasebook apps might be faster.

And while some cities may make you work harder for a smile, in much of the world, people are absolutely charmed when you attempt to speak their language. Mispronounced? Probably. But appreciated? Absolutely. Especially by the street food auntie who’s about to hand you the best grilled chicken of your life.

YouTube & Documentaries

Sometimes, all it takes is a good visual to lock something in. YouTube is packed with videos by travelers, historians, and locals sharing everything from walking tours to crash courses in culture. Search for “[country] history explained” or “top cultural mistakes in [city],” and you're off.

Also: many streaming platforms have travel documentaries or episodes from shows like Parts Unknown (Anthony Bourdain—I still miss you, Tony 😭😭😭), Somebody Feed Phil, or Street Food (Netflix) that offer fun and surprisingly insightful cultural intros.

You may even find your destination covered in the Great Courses series. These course-length video series (most of which you will need to pay to access) can offer a wealth of information on a destination.

Travel Guidebooks (Even the Old Ones)

Lonely Planet, Rough Guides, and Bradt Guides often include excellent background chapters on history, politics, religion, and cultural etiquette. Even if you don’t use the practical travel info (hello, outdated bus timetables), the front chapters can be gold.

Pro tip: used bookstores or libraries often have older editions that are still useful for context and cost next to nothing.

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Final Thoughts: Should You Learn About a Country Before Traveling There?

In the end, learning before you travel isn’t about turning your vacation into a homework assignment. It’s about unlocking a richer, more connected experience. You don’t need to get a degree in regional anthropology or to memorize an entire country’s dynastic history (though, if that’s your thing, nerd on). You just need a little curiosity and a willingness to look beyond the surface.

Because when you do, a temple isn’t just a temple. A plaza isn’t just a place to rest your feet. And a street vendor isn’t just someone selling food—they’re a keeper of traditions, stories, and flavors that suddenly mean something to you.

When you learn, you connect. And when you connect, you remember. You carry those places with you, long after your suitcase is unpacked and your laundry has swallowed the last trace of international dust.

So yes—read the book, listen to the podcast, fumble through the language app, ask the awkward questions, and dive down a rabbit hole or two.

Because travel isn’t just about where you go. It’s about what you bring to it.

And what it brings back to you.

Reading hieroglyphs in Luxor, Egypt