I was just about to board the double-decker tour bus that would drive us through the narrow, winding streets of Toledo, Spain, when a fellow tourist to my left exclaimed for all the world to hear: "Oh good! They speak American on this bus."  I cringed, and shamefully boarded the bus, thinking that maybe I could pass for a Canadian.

Later on that day, I entered a gift shop where I witnessed yet another American tourist attempt to pay for all of her souvenirs with U.S. currency. The sales clerk stared back at the shopper as if she had three heads. "We only accept Euros here in Spain." The shopper stormed out of the gift shop.

It dawned on me at that moment that perhaps there is some truth to the stigma attached to the American tourist. We love to trot around the globe, yet we refuse to leave our own customs at home, and step into the lives of the native people.

The best part of traveling is the mere fact you can forget your troubles, your job, even your friends and your family (depending on the circumstance), and be completely free to assimilate to the far away place where you've landed. You're released from worries at home, and can do as you please.

If you make any effort at all to speak the native language the benefits of travel can be that much more rewarding.

In addition to my trip to Spain, I've also traveled to Costa Rica and Mexico in the past six months. It was during these trips that my Spanish classes throughout high school and college truly paid off.

Before leaving for Costa Rica to visit my brother who was studying down there, I made sure to brush up on my Spanish. My mom had arranged that we stay at an all-inclusive resort nestled in a small inlet on the Pacific side of the country. There was a swim-up bar at the pool in the resort, so, naturally, I struck up a conversation in Spanish with the bartenders. I explained that I preferred to be out and about exploring the cities and meeting local people when I visit new places as opposed to being confined to a resort.

The next thing I knew, my brother and I were spending that evening talking, singing, and dancing with the staff from the resort in the local bar, Lizard Lounge, a popular place for Costa Ricans just getting out of work. It was hands down one of the best nights of my life.

The bartender from the resort later explained to me that all too often people come to their country, ignoring the people that live there, focusing only on ziplining through the rainforest or lounging on the beaches. They saw that my brother and I had a genuine interest in the way of life of the Costa Ricans, and that was refreshing for someone in the tourism industry.

Compare this scene with my experience in the Spanish gift shop with the unruly American tourist, and you have two very different scenarios involving the foreign traveler.

Even though I had reservations about speaking the language, my mere effort was appreciated. I didn't assume everyone knew English, and I didn't storm off in a huff when the locals couldn't understand me.  I was a foreigner, and in order to fully enjoy my time in this new land, I had to make every attempt to immerse myself in the culture. For that one week, I wanted to be a Costa Rican.

It's the best way to learn and the best way to grow. If things don't go your way you can pack your bags, take your flight home, and you never have to see the country again.

But if you do it right, and you truly have a passion to travel, you'll leave a piece of yourself in that foreign land, and return home with a suitcase full of memories that are far more valuable than anything you would buy in a gift shop.

By Jamie Wilson

Jamie Wilson is a native of Braintree, Massachusetts, and a recent graduate of the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communication at Syracuse University. She currently works as an assistant editor at a publishing house in Boston.