“Oooh. That is a long time.”

That's almost everyone's reaction when I tell them I've been on the road for five weeks, and I'm just entering my sixth.

I can see what they're thinking: with all those airports, hotels, different beds, endless conversations, surely I must be exhausted?

But I've loved every minute. It helped that I had a holiday with my family halfway through, of course. But I think I've worked out why I've enjoyed it all so much.

The longer I'm away, the more people surprise me, and the more I realise how much I've still got to learn.

On the seafront in Recife, returning to the same beachside shack for a caipirinha, some music and time on my own, I experienced customer service that would have been at home in a five-star hotel.

In Cartagena, the staff at South America’s best bar, and the best in the world for hospitality, sent me a message saying I was one of their best customers. I did fly to the city so I could have one night there. They’d quietly wiped some drinks off my bill, too, before I even noticed. A small act of generosity that meant more than the money, even for this Scotsman.

In the Dominican Republic, somewhere I've visited twice before, the kindness, excitement and sheer joy of the people I met (and the dancing!) made me wonder whether I could one day call it home, even for a few months a year.

Madrid and Seville brought a break, meeting old friends and making new ones at the zinc top of Salmon Guru.

Everywhere, the same lesson: it's the people who make the place, even if they’re also just passing through.

But there's another side to this.

A client I'd expected to be tricky turned out to be the setting for a wonderfully productive one-day workshop. I'm normally the first to argue that one-day workshops rarely change anything. Perhaps I've been too quick to dismiss them.

And then Chile. Two hundred leaders together in Santiago, followed by 24 of them heading into the mountains for a hidden summit with me. We’ve just spent the weekend taking time to think about personal promises on the job, and how those personal missions might actually strengthen, rather than compete with, the mission of a school.

So what connects all these experiences?

I think it's the value of stepping outside what we know, and making enough space for other people to change our minds.

When you're in familiar surroundings, you become an expert in how things work. You know the people, the routines, the unwritten rules. You make judgements quickly.

But familiarity tends to make us lazy observers. “This is just how things get done here…” becomes a barrier to doing anything new.

We stop noticing, asking awkward questions, and we stop expecting to be surprised.

Travel, particularly sustained travel, makes that almost impossible. Every new encounter offers a chance to see something differently, as long as you're paying attention.

And that's the opportunity for leaders, whether they're travelling the world or staying in the same school for twenty years.

Become a traveller in your own organisation.

This week, spend half an hour with someone whose world you don't normally inhabit. Don't arrive with an agenda or a solution. Be curious and ask questions. Shut up and listen.

Find out what they see that you don't.

You might discover something extraordinary hiding in plain sight. Or you might simply realise that something you've always believed isn't quite as true as you thought.

People keep telling me six weeks is a long time. Perhaps it is.

But I'm beginning to think the most important measure of a journey isn't how long you've been away, or how many places you've visited. It's how many times you've changed your mind along the way.