In early March 2020, I found myself unwittingly in Milan as the pandemic lockdowns began there. I completed a three-week adventure through southern Italy, and Milan was the last stop on my way back to Japan. My former beau and I flew from Sicily to Milan on a Saturday, the last day domestic flights were allowed into Milan. Two days later, we were meant to fly to Tokyo. Those strange and glorious days left a memorable impression. Many other tourists had left Milan when the city-wide lockdown took effect. As we toured the city on bikes, Milan felt quiet and subdued. At that time, I had no idea that cross-border travel would become much more difficult. Three weeks after I arrived in Tokyo, the U.S. Embassy there sent out an ominous message asking Americans to either leave Japan or plan on staying in Japan indefinitely.

During this pandemic, then, I have been doing less suitcase packing and a bit more contemplation. I am grateful for my past adventures within this window of less moving. I mindfully re-live and rejoice in old travels. I am convinced that this capacity to feel gratitude is directly related to our ability to enjoy life in general. After my most meaningful trips, I am grateful for new experiences, intriguing trinkets, new human connections, and the chance to learn a new perspective. For me, this is the third way to enjoy travel fully. As I reflect and reminisce on travels past, I appreciate: (1) moments of surprise, (2) physical mementos, (3) human connections, and (4) perspectives gleaned. This after-adventure pause, with mindful gratitude, is a life-affirming practice.

Shortly after I returned to Tokyo from Italy, the Japanese began to take the pandemic seriously. I was asked to work from home. Social events went on hiatus. Restaurants closed early. Bars were completely shuttered; music venues went mute. With nowhere to go for a while, I reflected on my glorious Italian experience. I had planned well and found flow in my time in Italy. Now, I was in my third phase of travel joy: the remembrances.

1. Cherish Moments of Surprise

On this trip to Italy, I traveled with my British beau (the first boyfriend to join me abroad). On a few occasions, I observed our styles were different. I could eat at any time; he seemed never to get hungry. Eventually, Italian food broke his restraint. But our first (and only) spat during dating was based very squarely on the capacity to enjoy the moment.

After insisting that we should watch the sunset from the island of Syracuse (as opposed to returning to our Airbnb so he could send emails), a tense yelling match ensued. Finally, we agreed. We would NOT leave before the sunset. After this, he bought me a truce-gelato, and we walked along an ancient bridge toward a marina in the old town. By pure luck, my eye caught a boat captain rigging a small vessel to take out into the water. I inadvertently smiled at the captain, and he smiled back. Then, he signaled us over to join his voyage. In retrospect, this unplanned boat ride was one of the highlights of our trip. After our domestic tension, a boat ride was just the salve we needed. The captain was taking another couple around the island and into a few caves. We luckily tagged along. This memory ended up being one of our favorite moments. It reminded us how important it is to keep the eyes and the heart open during travel (and also in life).

2. Momentos & Knick-Knacks

Over the years, I have moved between many homes and apartments. Carrying about your things is an excellent reminder that less is more. When I travel, I tend to pack light. As a minimalist, I have become much more selective about the trinkets I bring home. From significant to small, my main criterion is that the item is relevant to the local culture. Eiffel tower key chains do not meet my definition. In some places, a sticker feels more appropriate than a knick-knack!

Naples Takes Art Seriously

One of my favorite things to pick up is local art. In Italy, there is no shortage of local arts and crafts. In Naples, hip street art adorns dilapidated buildings. Along a pedestrian path, we saw an artist selling her watercolor paintings. Both my boyfriend and I loved the style of her work. He purchased an image for each of us. Her work was unique, and I began to follow the artist on Instagram. This way, I could see the artist’s progression and keep a loose connection with our chance encounter.

On the day before our return to Japan, I also picked up a pair of suede boots in Milan. Each time I wore them in Tokyo. I was grateful for the small splurge. Now that I am in Atlanta, I have framed my Napoli mermaid with blue and gold. In this small way, I remember my adventures. Both the boots and the art were chance purchases. Still, they have now morphed with meaning. It reminded me how lovely it was to prance around Italy before the pandemic changed our world.

3. Human Connections

“Do not talk to strangers” is easily the worst advice I have ever heard. Whether traveling, at a networking event or doing mundane errands, I love chatting with people. Many former strangers are now my friends. I believe each individual holds some unique perspective within them; it is a matter of talking through their reservations. Thus, when I travel, I become slightly more extroverted. I want to connect with locals and hear the inside scoop. In some instances, even after I have left a place, some of those human connections keep me in touch with an adventure.

A caring stranger met us at lunch on our last full day in Milan. For our final restaurant meal in Italy, we went to a back-to-basics lunch café. Handmade pasta and simple ingredients with a classic feel were on the menu. As we chatted with the waitress, we learned we were her only foreign tourists in the last two weeks. We expressed our surprise about the lockdown and learned from her that restaurants in Milan would be closed after that afternoon. Our waitress inquired about the amenities at our hotel. She was genuinely worried about what we would have for dinner. On our way out, she gifted us dinner to go. She separately packed a container of pasta, marinara sauce, and fresh basil to prepare at our Airbnb. Her kindness and dedication left a warm glow. I followed her restaurant on Facebook afterward. Unfortunately, the café ended up closing down during the pandemic. But her act of kindness left long reverberations.

4. The Exchange of Ideas

The most important reason I love to travel is that I return to my `default` life with a changed perspective. For example, I learned a whole new way to live in Tokyo. For the first time ever, I found city living enjoyable! My quality of life was enhanced by being car-free. My lifestyle with a smaller home and more recycling was more sustainable. I left Japan eager to reform American car bloat and with a desire to promote pluralism through better design.

While my visit to Italy was much shorter, I still left with new ideas about thoroughly enjoying life. Naples, for example, was war-torn after WW2 and yet, it still holds on to the pride of its days of glory. Buildings partially destroyed stand tall. Graffiti, murals, and posters decorate and scream with fight and spirit. In the small town of Sapri, I noticed how couples walked the promenade in the late afternoon. They elevated the act of watching the sky change colors dressed in their Sunday best. In Milan, though restaurants were closed, Italians could not be separated from their pizza. A line of cyclists’ couriers waited for takeout orders in front of pizzerias.

This practice of keeping good memories in the front of our minds is a key to getting through tough times. Nostalgia, recollection, and appreciation can be a nourishing afterglow of travel. I have often noticed that good memories are essential for keeping us upbeat. In many moments, my moods ebb and flow. Having pleasant and meaningful travel memories makes looking forward to better days easier. Between frequently depressed people and those more resilient to the changing tides, I notice this capacity to reflect and enjoy the past. It is a practice I have keyed into and one I aim to hone.

Thank you for reading. May your travels also bring you sweet recollections.

I love camping and water activities. I used to enjoy sharing these experiences with others. During this pandemic, though, I have severely limited my social engagements. Since returning from Japan to Atlanta in April 2022, I have prioritized reconnecting with my family. So when a close friend told me about some fellow travelers gathering to camp and hang out along nearby Lake Hartwell for the weekend, I could not resist coming out of mini-isolation. On this second camping trip of the season, I ended up having a fantastic time by practicing some elements of mindful travel. The `Lake Crash` met several critical criteria; I could camp, play in the water and meet many old friends all in one go!

In the first post of this three-part series exploring meaningful travel, I considered how preparation and planning with a few good questions could help shape a significant experience. In this second post of the series, I focus on how to make the most of your time once you embark on a journey. I suggest these pointers to help lean into time away from home. I make it a point to: (1) be truly present in your surroundings, (2) remain flexible when circumstances change, and (3) try to connect with locals.

Traveling can be a spiritually transcendent journey. Doubt that? Show up in Pakistan with your luggage missing, at the mercy of friends and family, and stripped of American luxuries. Is there any better way to know yourself? In exchange for your lost stuff, you get the opportunity to see yourself through your travel interactions. In a talk on observing the self, Tara Brach recounts her inner struggle with control when she traveled abroad. If we pay attention to what arises in us, travel becomes a transformative educational experience.

1. Be Present

Thankfully, you do not have to lose your luggage or feel socially awkward to get the most out of your travel experience. While I am on an adventure, I find joy in being fully present. I am mentally and physically attentive.  I tune into my senses. I pay attention to the small details. I notice light sounds; I take in vistas. I listen to the local dialect.

By far, though, my favorite practice to help me stay grounded in the present is to go sans phone. I often tell people I will not be available by phone and then turn on airplane mode. For many modern travelers, I know this is a bit of heresy. Of course, I have used Google Maps to find a great restaurant in a city I did not know well. However, when I backpacked India, I was proud of my ability to find a great restaurant without Google Maps. I learned to look for external indicators in finding a good restaurant. By watching the crowds and seeing what looked hip and alive, I tried some strange foods and enjoyed the mystery of being a little under-informed.

Nowadays, I find it harder to turn off the phone. On my trip to Lake Hartwell, though there was service at the lake, I was determined to stay present. After checking in on my step-dad, who had some health issues, I turned on airplane mode and left my phone in my tent. By cutting the wire, I avoided the inexplicable desire to scroll Instagram. Instead, I pushed myself to meet people outside of my bubble. Overall, just turning off the damn thing brings a new way to navigate the world and a sense of surroundings.

2. Be Flexible

Robert Burns, an 18th-century poet, once wrote, “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” In modern words: regardless of how well you plan, things will go awry. In my mind: when the plan is interrupted, things get interesting.

On my road trip to Maryland, the night I was meant to sleep on Kent Island on the eastern shore of Maryland, there was an incredible rainy downpour. I first heard about it casually cruising the FM stations in the area. When I arrived at the highway passing through DC, it was dark, and I could not see three feet ahead. So instead of staying on a strict timeline, I modified my plan. I pulled over and read in my car for a while. A few hours later, the rain eased up. I drove to the edge of Chesapeake Bay and watched the sunrise from a state park. Instead of being grumpy about the change, by being open, I lucked out with a beautiful morning. I saw an eastern sunrise, wandered on a beach by myself, and spotted a fox and many deer.

More recently, I had (three!) light-device failures during my camping excursion on Lake Hartwell. After tubing with the group on Sunday, I arrived at my campsite without a working lamp. Instead of concocting a light on the fly, I enjoyed the pitch-dark night. That Sunday night, there were few nearby campers, and the silence became louder with the sounds of the critters in the sky and the murmuring of water lapping the nearby shore.

3. Connect with Locals

The best way to get a pulse on local life is to put yourself in the current. Exactly how to find that flow depends on where you go. Indeed, going to a local place for a bite (instead of breakfast at the all-inclusive resort) can be the difference between night and day. If you are in Italy, you want to pop into a café for a cornetto in the morning. Listen to the surrounding chatter and try to strike up a conversation! There is no better way to get a sense of the character of a place. The richest literature is filled with choice idioms, odd references, and stories that live in a community. Get a take on the local events, festivities, and even politics by chatting with people in the street. Sharing your own insights might even help you find common ground with a stranger.

Long before I became an Airbnb host, I traveled and met locals through an organization called CouchSurfing (CS). Over the years, thanks to CS, I have enjoyed heart-warming connections and participated in local treasures across the globe. For example, I watched the Fêtes de Genève fireworks on Lake Geneva from a choice spot on a finger jutting into the lake. In Tokyo, a friendly CS spirit doubled as a salsero. During my Indian backpacking adventure, my host invited me to play Scrabble with a vacationing Englishman on a pristine beach in Goa.

A group of tenacious CS hosts organized the Lake Hartwell camping. There, I met CS hosts from across the region and other like-minded travelers. Among the joys of the Lake Crash, I saw some friends that I had not seen in over five years while also making new friends. Through former strangers, I learned a bit of history about Lake Hartwell and about a mysterious cemetery island created when the area was flooded. I also got the coordinates for a tried-and-tested swim hole in Alabama to check out on an upcoming adventure.

By planning well and participating wholeheartedly, travel shifts from just a simple change in setting to a meaningful experience. As I am on the road on an adventure, I make it a point to bring my heart and mind to the moment. When I focus on the little details, I find joy in presence. As I interact in places, I welcome the opportunity to chat with strangers. Often, long after I have gone, the unexpected encounters become part of the treasure I carry in my memory.

As I prepared for my first solo road trip in over 5 years, I found joy in browsing Google Maps for good campsites. I wrote out a packing list. I cleaned and tested my camp stove. Later, when I gathered and checked off my list, I sorted my supplies by *uses*. The joy in preparation ignited my musings from a previous post; I reflected on how to distinguish a casual weekend vacation from a deep purpose-driven trip. One difference I find is that meaningful travel is something of a treat. Like romance, there is a tingling feeling in anticipation.

If you let it, one adventure can bring three entirely separate ways to appreciate and relish meaningful travel. A well-curated trip elevates the experience of travel; the trip becomes more than a physical adventure. It becomes a treasure trove for the psyche. I will explore these three separate ways to find joy in meaningful travel in a three-part series. These are the special joys in: (1) planning the trip, joy in (2) staying present in the moment of travel, and (3) later reflecting on those moments.

The planning and anticipation stage is the first component of enjoying a trip. Here is the difference between that quick drive-thru meal on your way home and going to a special, reservation-required restaurant. You consider several reviews, pick the ambiance, and the cuisine, and set out the right outfit. You were excited in advance and then chose a complementing bottle for your meal. Then you find the right nook with a vista to sit and enjoy your moments with glee. To dine for a special occasion, then, is to relish with anticipation, take in with appreciation, and then reminisce. The whole experience can be cherished by setting aside space for enjoyment.

In the planning stage of an adventure, I start by thinking through the contours of a trip. What shape, in the best case scenario, will this trip take? The Container of my travel includes the big W questions:  where, what, who, and why details of any destination. This naive planning stage is one of my favorite parts of travel. Here we are full of anticipation and opportunity to make a dream come true. A clear idea of what you want from a trip creates the space for the imagination to dream up and fill in the colorful details.

For the contours of my recent road trip, I knew the first W. I was leaving Atlanta to get my dose of nature. The WHY was that I missed hanging under trees. Hence, the WHAT: I brought with me a hammock. On this road trip, I intended to see my cousin in Maryland. Thus, my route for natural beauty was calculated with her home as an eventual endpoint. I had about one week free, so I developed a rough itinerary of stops, balancing driving times with full-frontal green being.

As you plan a meaningful trip, consider your W questions: Will you pick a wide container? Or a tall one? The foundations of your adventure plus your imagination get you enjoying your travel even before you have begun. For me, the big questions and considerations go roughly in this order:

• Why are you going? What are your main motivations? What do you want to do?

For example: do you imagine storefronts to shop? Do you need it quiet to relax? Or craggy mountains to explore? Perhaps you are on the hunt for a particular flavor.

• Who will you go with?

Another key parameter is who will you travel with. As I am very used to solo trips, it takes a bit more adjustment to include loved ones. Soon I will take my mother and step-father on a city adventure; I need to consider good pit stops while street strolling so they can cool off and recharge. When I recently went to DC for a family member’s wedding, my nearly two-year-old niece, Jenna changed the very shape of our trip to DC. My family juggled planned outings with mandatory nap times for the little one.

• Where will you go?

This to me often ties into #1. If your why is to relax, perhaps Thailand is calling your name in the form of beaches and massages. If your time away is to indulge your history hobby, perhaps Colonial Williamsburg is appealing to you. For Cajun cuisine set against a jazz background, New Orleans might be the right tune.

If you are a bit bookish, there are so many joys that come from getting a good background scoop pre-adventure. Many great travel guides will have a historical or political context primer. My family once traveled to Turkey during the middle of an internal civil rebellion. We didn’t do much research beforehand and it took us by surprise when we ended up in the middle of a protest on the Asian side of Istanbul. I would not recommend that to a novice traveler.

• Time-related questions: When? And how long? This consideration is key for festivals, and seasonal activities.

The contour and agenda of a trip are entirely shaped by how much time you have. For example, when I wanted to see India, I knew a week or two was not going to cut it.  I spent about five months backpacking the country over a decade ago; it was great. I would need at least another year before I covered even half of the states.

If you are into a seasonal activity, remember the opposite hemisphere has an opposite season. For example, summer in the USA means wintertime in Australia. These considerations are important if you are trying to catch a ski or sweat. The cherry blossoms in Japan bloom only in early spring.

• What will you do?

All this thinking ahead can be exciting. The caveat is to avoid being overbooked on a holiday. I try to balance plan and openness with the parameters in mind.  For example, as I learned the hard way, if I were to return to Cusco and want to hike the Inca Trail, I will need reservations well in advance. But the meals and city strolling, I would keep open to adjustment.

As I reflect now, my solo road trip went well. I find myself giving thanks for thinking through the elements of my drive. I am pleased with my plan. Because I had no unexpected items missing, I had no irritating Walmart wanderings. I had extra water, dish soap, and even a plastic bag to collect trash. As a result, I enjoyed a glorious sense of autonomy and nature reunion. I enjoyed the feeling of self-sufficiency camping in remote places. The preparation portion took about 10% of travel time, but it made hiccups on the trip easier to manage.

I encourage any traveler to think through their excursion. All good journeys require a bit of wiggle room. Still, that is no excuse to show up ignorant and ill-prepared. The very anticipation of the destination is the beginning of enjoying your travels. Happy plotting.