I AM NOT THE WORLD’S greatest traveler, but I’ve seen some of this world and I’m itching to see more. As a young man, I backpacked through Europe twice in the early 1970s. Those journeys exploded the worldview of a middle-class kid from the suburbs. On one trip, my buddy Todd and I hitchhiked through Germany on the autobahn. We picked up a lucky lift entering an incredibly long tunnel—through the Swiss Alps—on our way to Italy, in return for babysitting the well-behaved dachshund of our driver. In Florence, we overdosed on Renaissance art and bunked in Mussolini’s mistress’s villa, which had long before been converted into a youth hostel.