I’m sitting in a cafe in Chiapas, the rich aroma of cacao curling around me as I sink into my workday with my $5 boujie drink. As I unfold my laptop to work, a little girl no more than four years old approaches.

Brightly coloured Mayan clothes are streaked with dirt, and her shoes are two sizes too small. Her tiny, calloused hands tug at the hem of my sleeve. 

She asks me in Spanish if I could please buy one of her heart-shaped keychains. My chest tightens. I’ve already bought four this week, a gesture that feels both well-intentioned and absolutely meaningless in the face of such systemic injustice. 

The pang of conscience jabs me somewhere between my ribs, and I feel... The Ache. 

I’ve yet to find an English word to describe this Ache with a capital A. 

But trust the Germans to have an appropriate word: 

Weltschmertz (n) lit. “world-pain”; the depression you feel when the world as it is doesn’t reflect what you think it should be. 

It’s easy to use travel as another form of escapism to cope with the state of the world right now. I’m guilty of it too. But all too often I return from a trip feeling a little… hollow. 

Sure, I enjoyed myself, saw the sights, snapped some pics. But the culture remains distant; tourism often feels extractive. And the little glimpses I do catch show me that underneath, communities struggle in ways we tourists can easily ignore. 

Heavy, I know. 

But then comes a small, unexpected reminder of good in the world. After I finished my work and packed up my things, I stepped out of the cafe. Not two minutes later, another girl on the street comes running after me, carrying the bag I’d accidentally left behind. 

Inside was everything — my laptop, my keys, my passport, and my iPad. She doesn’t hesitate or ask for anything. She simply returns what isn’t hers. Before I could blink, she vanished down the street, and I was left staring at the space she occupied—so small but carrying so much. The Ache returns. 

But my favourite author Glennon Doyle says this:

“We all have this misunderstanding about heartbreak, which is we think we should avoid it. But what I think is that heartache is a clue toward the work we're supposed to be doing in the world. What breaks each person's heart is different - be it racial injustice, war, or animals. And when you figure out what it is that breaks yours, go toward it. That's where you'll find the people doing world healing work. I really think all we're here for is purpose and connection, so follow your heartbreak”

So maybe Weltschmertz isn’t a burden to carry but a compass. And instead of asking “how can I see more of the world?” the better question is “how can I feel more of the world?”

Things like community-led tours, volunteering, or even just spending time learning directly from locals can thoroughly change the way we experience a place on a deeper level. 

I spent most of my twenties traveling on a shoestring using Workaway. From Hungary to Guatemala, I traded shifts in hostels, cleaned guesthouses and campsites in Slovenia and the Isle of Skye. I even did a stint on a yoga boat in Holland. 

I met incredible people from all four corners of the globe. But truthfully, at the time, I was more focused on what travel could give me than what I might give back. 

I wasn’t really considering my impact or looking inward, just chasing experiences and trying my best to avoid the great big Ache. 

So reading the Guardian’s roundup of community tourism trips ignited a flame in me to try again. Working with families in traditional weaving villages in the Andes, staying in Sri Lanka’s first women-led hotel, or with herding families in the Gobi Desert. 

It led me to ask myself, “How do I want travel in my thirties to look?” I want connection. I want to feel part of something bigger than myself, rather than just passing through. I want to be challenged by my limiting beliefs and lean into The Ache and to recognize that it isn’t just mine; it’s ours. 

And with World Tourism Day coming up on Saturday, it’s the perfect time to reflect: what kind of tourism are we celebrating? 

Maybe you’ve hiked with local Bedouin guides in Jordan, joined a coral reef restoration in Australia, or spent a day with Sami reindeer herders. Perhaps you’ve found that sweet spot on Workaway—or other volunteering sites—that I missed. 

And if not, perhaps you too are dreaming of a trip that stays with you long after the journey ends?

Give us your thoughts in the comments. Who knows, you might just inspire another Traveller to scratch beyond the surface.