To Join the 7 Continents Club, or Not? There’s Still a Lot to See in the World and Some Good Reasons to See It.

by Dr. Jeffrey DeSarbo

For most of my life, the world beyond the United States existed more as an idea than an experience. I wasn’t someone who grew up traveling internationally, collecting passport stamps, or dreaming of far-off places. In fact, until 2012, I had done very little international travel. I lived a full, busy professional life, but geographically, my world was relatively contained to the state of New York.

What stayed with me, quietly and persistently, were my father’s words: “There’s a lot to see in the world.” He didn’t say it dramatically. It wasn’t framed as advice or urgency. It was simply something he believed. Something he knew. And something he hoped, I think, would eventually take root.

Planting the Seed

That seed didn’t fully sprout until a medical request required me to get my first passport in 2012. At the time, it felt procedural, yet I noticed a bit of excitement to have the opportunity. I wasn’t thinking about transformation or adventure. I was more or less checking a new box. But that small administrative step of standing in line, submitting paperwork, receiving and holding that first passport in my hands, all quietly changed the trajectory of my life.

Not long after, I found myself on my first true international trip: Paris, Amsterdam, and Dubai. Three cities, three cultures, three entirely different ways of moving through the world. I remember the feeling clearly; not just excitement, but something deeper. A kind of cognitive disorientation paired with awe. Languages I didn’t speak. Social rhythms I didn’t yet understand. Architecture that made time feel layered instead of linear. It was exhilarating, humbling, and slightly unsettling in the best possible way. That’s when the travel bug bit me hard.

From there, travel became woven into my professional life. International consultations, speaking engagements, and collaborations took me to places I never imagined I’d go. What began as an obligation slowly evolved into an intention. Travel was no longer something I did on the side; it became part of how I engaged with life.

At some point along the way, I made a decision that was both personal and deeply symbolic: I wanted to see all seven continents. It wasn’t about achievement or bragging rights. It was about legacy. My dad’s and my own.

The Seven Continents Club

My father often mentioned that he also wanted to see all the continents. That inspired me. He made it to most of them, but Antarctica and Australia remained out of reach due to time and medical issues. After he passed, the idea of completing that journey, for him and with him, took on new meaning. When I traveled to Antarctica, I brought his ashes with me. Standing at the edge of that vast, silent continent, surrounded by ice, wind, and an overwhelming sense of smallness, I felt something close to completion, but also continuation. 

I became a member of the Seven Continents Club in 2023. A journey sort of accomplished for myself, yet still unfolding at the same time, as my dad still needs to get to Australia. I hope to also bring his ashes with me next time I visit there.

Towards my father’s final days, at bedside, I asked him if there was any place he wished he had seen but didn't get a chance to go. Smiling, he said, “Only one really. The Tulip Festival in Holland.” Next year, my brother and I plan to bring his ashes there together. Some trips are about discovery. Others are about love.

Lessons Learned

For some people, traveling to all seven continents and maybe all five oceans is a reachable goal to save for and plan for one day. For others, it’s simply a matter of time. And for many, there may be no interest at all. And that’s perfectly okay. The true gift of travel has nothing to do with how far you go or how many places you check off a list. It simply has to do with giving oneself impactful new experiences about people and places.

What travel has given me, more than any destination, is an immersive education in humanity. Travel places you inside lives that are not your own. It shows you how people think, cope, celebrate, grieve, work, rest, and hope under circumstances wildly different from yours. You begin to see and understand that there is no single correct way to live a meaningful life. There are countless versions, shaped by culture, environment, resources, freedoms, limitations, and history.

As a neuroscientist and mental health professional, I see this through a particular lens. Travel expands the brain’s capacity for perspective-taking. It stretches cognitive flexibility. It softens rigid thinking. It increases tolerance, not as an abstract ideal, but as a lived experience. When you’ve shared a meal with people who have far less infrastructure, fewer freedoms, or different social norms, it becomes harder to reduce humanity to stereotypes.

Travel also teaches gratitude, but not the performative kind. The quiet, embodied kind. Gratitude for clean water, for heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer, for access to food, healthcare, and safety. Not because others lack these things, but because seeing life without them recalibrates what we take for granted.

Perhaps most importantly, travel shows us how people endure. How they manage stress, depression, anxiety, and uncertainty within their cultural frameworks. You witness resilience in forms you didn’t know existed. You learn that suffering and hope look different in different places, and that peace and joy are not exclusive to comfort.

You don’t need to cross oceans to experience this shift. Travel can mean all seven continents. Or all fifty states. Or every country in Europe. Or twenty-five towns within driving distance that you’ve never explored. The scale doesn’t matter. The intention does.

Travel expands knowledge. It increases awareness. It strengthens emotional resilience. It deepens gratitude. And, quietly, it changes who you are.

My father was right. There is a lot to see in the world. And even more to become by seeing it.