People who always learn a few local phrases when they travel abroad usually display these 10 distinct strengths

Travelers who bother to learn even a handful of local phrases tend to move through the world differently.

Not because they’re fluent. Because they’re willing. A few words—hello, please, thank you, how much, vegetarian, where—is the smallest bridge you can build to someone else’s world. And people who build small bridges everywhere they go usually share the same strengths back home, too.

Here are the ten I see most often—on the road, at neighborhood markets, and in the awkward-but-worth-it moments that make travel feel human.

1. Curiosity in motion

If you learn local phrases, curiosity isn’t just a vibe—it’s a behavior.

Curiosity says, “I wonder how this works.” But learning how to say hello in Thai or good morning in Portuguese upgrades wonder into doing. It’s the difference between watching a city and meeting it. You stop treating a place like a museum and start treating it like a conversation.

I’ve noticed those same people ask better questions at home, too. They don’t accept the default setting at work. They poke the edges—politely—and try new routes. Curiosity in motion compounds: one small effort today makes tomorrow’s effort easier.

2. Social courage

Approaching a stranger and testing a new phrase risks micro-embarrassment.

You might mangle the word. You might get a laugh. You try anyway. That’s social courage. It’s not bravado; it’s willingness to be seen trying.

In Hanoi, I once ordered coffee with my best attempt at “cà phê sữa đá.” The barista corrected my tone with a smile and a thumbs-up. That moment made the whole day lighter. People who practice these tiny risks get better at bigger ones—speaking up in a meeting, apologizing first, asking for feedback before it’s perfect.

3. Humility without theatrics

Quoting a single sentence in a new language is an admission: I’m the beginner here.

That’s strangely attractive. You’re not performing expertise; you’re declaring respect. As Paulo Freire wrote, “Humility expresses the recognition of our limitations.” A few phrases say, “I don’t expect the world to meet me in English. I can take one step toward you.”

Humility like that travels well. It turns negotiations into collaborations. It softens tense moments. It keeps you from “correcting” a culture you barely understand. You become easier to help because you don’t pretend to know.

4. Pattern spotting

Languages are patterns wearing sound.

If you pick up phrases, you start seeing those patterns fast: word order, common roots, polite endings, number logic. The brain that spots patterns in language tends to spot patterns in everything—subway maps, menus, street layouts, even team dynamics.

On a long train day in Spain, my partner and I started playing “pattern bingo” with verbs on station signage. Within an hour, I could guess a new word’s meaning from context. That same muscle helps when I step into a new project with unfamiliar tools. I’m not smarter; I’m trained to look for repeats.

5. Empathy you can feel

Saying please and thank you in someone’s language lands differently.

It signals, “I see you.” The response—so often a softer face, a warmer tone, a tiny upgrade in care—teaches you how good it feels to be seen. Empathy stops being a concept and becomes a reflex.

I’ve mentioned this before but attention is the basic unit of care. When you give your attention to the words someone grew up with, they feel it. And you remember how powerful small recognitions can be. That’s empathy you can carry into every room.

6. Friction tolerance

Learning anything new adds friction.

You practice. You forget. You get corrected. You repeat. Travelers who always learn local phrases build a quiet tolerance for this friction. They don’t panic when something is hard; they switch to “OK, how do I make the next attempt 1% better?”

That tolerance is gold off the road. New role at work? New recipe? New habit? If you’re used to making tiny, slightly awkward improvements, you stick with things long enough to get good at them. Progress stops depending on comfort.

7. Precision with kindness

Words matter. The right word matters more.

Ask a street vendor for “veg” in English and you might get a shrug. Ask—in the local tongue—for “no meat, no fish, only vegetables,” and suddenly the options multiply. People who collect phrases learn to be precise without turning fussy. They’re clear and brief. They ask for what they want in a way the other person can actually act on.

Back home, that looks like clean emails, direct requests, and fewer passive-aggressive loops. Precision with kindness speeds up every collaboration.

8. Cultural literacy

A phrase isn’t just a sound. It carries rituals, humor, honorifics, and history.

Learning “cheers” in a dozen languages also teaches you when to clink, whether to look in the eye, and who drinks first. A small phrase uncovers a whole map of meaning. “In language,” as the writer Jhumpa Lahiri notes, “you are born twice.” When you swap even a single word, you feel the second birth a little.

Cultural literacy like that helps you not step on toes. It also turns stereotypes into stories. You stop saying “they always…” and start saying “sometimes, when…” Nuance replaces caricature.

9. Resourcefulness

Travelers who learn phrases tend to be scrappy in the best way.

They keep notes in their phone. They screenshot menus. They practice numbers in line. They ask the shopkeeper to say the word again so they can mimic it. That’s resourcefulness: using what you have, where you are, to get where you’re going.

On a foggy morning in Porto, I asked a baker how to pronounce “pão.” He coached me between customers. I bought bread, and by the third day, I was ordering for the whole table without pointing. No app, no class—just small tools used well.

10. Gratitude that shows up

Saying thank you in the language of the person who helped you is gratitude with receipts.

It turns “thanks” from a habit into a handshake. And people who practice that abroad tend to practice it at home: naming help specifically, closing loops, tipping in proportion to the effort, following up with a note.

Gratitude isn’t just polite. It’s practical. It opens doors you didn’t know existed because people like helping people who notice.

How to build these strengths with five minutes a day

You don’t need a semester. You need a pocket routine.

• Front-load the essentials. Learn hello, please, thank you, sorry, yes, no, numbers 1–10, and how much. Add “I’m vegetarian” or your key dietary note if relevant.

• Use a sticky phrase. Pick one sentence you’ll use constantly (for me: “Excuse me, where is…?”) and drill it until it’s automatic.

• Practice in place. Say the words under your breath while you walk. Read shop signs out loud (quietly). Order with your phrase even if the server replies in English.

• Log the wins. When a smile or extra help comes your way, jot a one-line note. Wins reinforce the habit.

• Trade up slowly. Add one new verb or noun per day—bathroom, platform, ticket, market, left, right. Micro-increases, forever.

What about getting it wrong?

You will. That’s part of the charm.

I once asked for “ice” in a language and, based on the clerk’s face, may have requested a small boat. We laughed. I tried again. They taught me the right word and threw in an extra cube like a gold star. Mistakes make moments. The goal isn’t perfect pronunciation; it’s shared goodwill.

Why this matters beyond travel

Language is the smallest lever that moves the biggest outcomes: trust, patience, cooperation.

People who always learn a few phrases practice those outcomes daily. They become better neighbors. They build teams faster. They de-escalate conflict because they’re trained to step toward the other person first—even when that step is just two syllables long.

And the world pays them back. Doors open. Discounts appear. Invites happen. The city stops feeling like an obstacle course and starts feeling like a living room.

Bottom line

People who learn local phrases carry ten strengths in their back pocket: curiosity, courage, humility, pattern sense, empathy, friction tolerance, kind precision, cultural literacy, resourcefulness, and gratitude. None of them require fluency. All of them require intention.

Start with two words. Add three more tomorrow. Use them clumsily, cheerfully, and often. The point isn’t a perfect accent. The point is a better connection—with the place you’re visiting and the person you’re becoming.