Tag: life

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Things I Wish More People Talked About While Travelling

When you scroll through Instagram or TikTok, travel looks like a highlight reel: morning croissants in Paris, beach dips in Greece, spontaneous nights out in Barcelona, perfectly-filtered sunsets in Nice. And yes, those moments happen. I’ve had them too. But what you don’t always see are the parts in between: the weird, quiet, emotional, sometimes uncomfortable pieces of travelling that don’t fit in a photo.

I’ve spent the last few years slowly piecing together a life that includes a whole lot of wandering. Some of it has been dreamy, some of it has been chaotic, and a lot of it has been deeply personal. Along the way, I started to notice all the things people don’t really talk about while travelling, and I wish they did. Not because I want to ruin the fantasy, but because knowing these things would’ve made me feel less alone in the moments that weren’t so picture perfect.

For one, the loneliness is real. You can be surrounded by people, in a buzzing hostel, on a walking tour, out at a wine bar, and still feel completely disconnected. There are moments where you crave something familiar so badly it physically aches. Sometimes it’s triggered by something small: a text from your mom, a FaceTime that cuts out, a birthday you’re missing back home. Other times it just bubbles up quietly, like when you’re wandering a new city and suddenly realize you wish a certain person was there to share it with. That’s not something people show on their stories, but it happens.

There’s also this low-key exhaustion that builds from making constant decisions. When you’re travelling solo or even with friends, you’re in charge of everything: where to stay, where to eat, what to see, how to get there. Every single day is full of tiny logistical puzzles, and the mental load is a lot sometimes. You don’t realize how comforting autopilot can be until you’re completely without it.

And let’s talk about money. I’m careful. I plan. I budget. But the guilt still creeps in, for both spending and not spending. There’s this pressure to “make the most of it,” to say yes to the once-in-a-lifetime dinner or that guided hike or the extra night in a cool town. But it adds up. I’ve caught myself mid-bite, calculating the CAD conversion and wondering if I just overspent for a plate of average ravioli. And even when something is worth the splurge, it doesn’t always feel light and carefree.

The comparison trap is sneaky, too. You think you’re doing well, you’re soaking it all in, moving at your own pace, embracing new places and experiences, and then suddenly you’re scrolling and see someone doing more. More countries. More festivals. More rooftop Aperols with their new best friends. And you start to wonder: Should I be doing it differently? Am I missing out? Am I boring?

Then comes the other kind of comparison, the one that hits a little deeper and sticks a little longer. You see people back home finding their rhythm: building careers, buying homes, getting promotions, starting relationships that look like they’re going somewhere. There’s a strange ache that comes with it. You feel proud of them, but also unsure of yourself. Did I make the right choice? Should I have stayed and started building something too? Am I falling behind while everyone else is settling in?

It’s a quiet kind of doubt that doesn’t always shout, but whispers just loud enough to make you question everything, even when you’re surrounded by beauty, freedom, and moments you once dreamed of. It’s a weird space to live in: grateful for the life you chose, but occasionally haunted by the life you didn’t.

What I’ve come to realize is that travel doesn’t magically erase who you are. New country, same brain. Your anxieties, your self-doubt, your mood swings, they all come with you in your backpack. And some days, for no big reason at all, you just feel off. I wish more people said that that’s normal. Feeling homesick doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. Crying in a train station bathroom doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. You’re just a person, doing something brave, and it’s okay to feel everything while you’re at it.

And not every day is going to feel like a scene from a movie. Some places are a bit of a letdown. Some hostels are just not the vibe. Some days are purely logistical, laundry, check-ins, missed connections. That’s not failure, it’s life. The less pressure you put on every moment to be magical, the more room you make for little joys to surprise you.

The hardest part for me? Balancing the excitement of what I’m seeing with the ache of what I’m missing. When you’re on the road, life doesn’t pause at home. Friends get engaged. Jobs come up. Family stuff happens. You feel pulled, grateful to be where you are, but sometimes painfully aware of where you’re not.

And now, as I begin planning my next trip, I’m starting to think more long-term. What do I want the next five years of my life to look like? If I don’t travel now, then when? But if I keep travelling now, what does that mean for things like stability, career goals, relationships? I know I’m not the only one asking these questions, and I also know that none of us have the perfect answer.

But even with all of this, the homesickness, the burnout, the awkward dinners alone and the internal spirals mid-bus ride, I still believe in the magic of travel. Not the fantasy version, but the real, gritty, emotional kind. The kind where you push past your comfort zone, even when your stomach is in knots. The kind where you meet someone on a walking tour who becomes your friend for the next two weeks. The kind where a quiet coffee in an unfamiliar café makes you feel unexpectedly calm and alive.

You don’t need a “perfect” trip to have a meaningful one. You don’t need a constant glow to be growing. You just need a little courage, a little curiosity, and a willingness to sit with the unknown. The truth is, even the harder parts, maybe especially the harder parts, are what make the good moments feel that much brighter.

And the good moments do come. Sometimes in big, sparkly ways. Sometimes in the smallest ones, like catching the train just in time, or laughing over wine with someone you haven’t seen for ages, or realizing, out of nowhere, that you haven’t checked your phone in hours because you’ve been too busy actually living.

So yeah, maybe more people should talk about how travel can be weird and emotional and kind of lonely sometimes. But I also wish more people knew that it’s still worth it, so worth it. Because through all the noise and the doubts and the minor travel crises, you end up finding something kind of beautiful: a deeper trust in yourself, a stronger sense of who you are, and a whole new way of looking at the world.

Wherever you are, and wherever you’re heading next, you’ve got this. And I’ll be cheering you on, probably, hopefully, from a café somewhere, dreaming of what comes next.

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Knowing Where to Go & For How Long

Where should I go? How long should I stay? Should I get a visa, go solo, or bring a friend? These are the questions I’ve been asking myself (and maybe you are too). In this post, I dive into how to balance your gut instincts with practical choices, from budget and visas to life goals and what you leave behind. Plus, a peek into my own planning process as I figure out my next adventure at 25.

One of the biggest (and most intimidating) parts of travel isn’t picking flights or packing your suitcase, it’s deciding where to go, and how long to stay.

It sounds easy until you actually start planning, then suddenly the questions pile up:

  • Do I go somewhere I’ve always dreamed of, or somewhere more affordable?
  • Should it be a quick trip or a long adventure?
  • Solo, or with someone else?
  • Is it worth what I’d leave behind?

I don’t have all the answers (spoiler: no one does), but here’s how I’ve tried to figure it out, and maybe it’ll help you too.

Follow your gut (and your heart)

Honestly, this is where it always starts for me.
Sometimes it’s a single photo, a video, or even hearing someone talk about a place — and suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about it. That quiet, stubborn feeling that says “go.”

And trust me: your gut knows more than your spreadsheet does.
Some of my best trips started because something just felt right, not because it made perfect sense on paper.

Cost vs. dreams

The hard truth: you might have to balance what you want with what’s realistic.
Dreaming of six months in Paris? It’s possible, but only if you can make the budget work.

So I ask myself:

  • Is this a place I’d love to experience deeply, slowly?
  • Or would a shorter trip still feel special?

Sometimes it means trading a big luxury trip for a longer stay with simpler comforts, and sometimes it means saving up to really do it your way.
Neither answer is wrong; it just depends on what matters most to you.

Long-term vs. short-term

I’ve done both, and they really do feel like different worlds.

Long-term (6+ months):
You discover favourite cafés, spot locals you recognize, learn shortcuts, celebrate holidays abroad, even find a little routine. You live there, not just visit.

Short-term (a week, a month):
It’s exciting and fresh; you squeeze in sights, meals, and memories. It’s more intense, but sometimes exactly what you need.

Ask yourself what you want from the trip: depth, variety, or a mix? And remember, you can always go back.

Solo or not?

Travelling solo scared the life out of me at first, but it taught me so much about who I am when no one else is around.
You choose what you do, learn to trust yourself, and realize how capable you are.

Travelling with a friend or partner, though, is just as wonderful in a different way. Someone to share laughs, split snacks, take photos, hype you up, and navigate challenges together.

Your choice might depend on your personality, destination, or even just the season of life you’re in. Neither is “better”  they’re just different stories.

Visa vs. no visa

Some places let Canadians stay months without a visa. Others offer working holiday visas, which, trust me, are truly once-in-a-lifetime. I learned this the hard way: once it expires, you can’t apply again!

Visas can feel like paperwork headaches, but they unlock deeper experiences: working, renting an apartment, staying longer than a tourist ever could.
If you’re under 30 (sometimes 35), look into them, it’s a window that doesn’t stay open forever.

The money question

No one loves budgeting, but it’s freeing to know your limits.

Ask yourself:

  • Do you want hostels, markets, and street food?
  • Or boutique hotels and fancy dinners?
  • Will you work along the way?

It’s not just “how much do I have,” but “how much do I want to spend on this experience?”

What you leave behind

The part we don’t always talk about: family, friends, pets, partners, birthdays, jobs.
Travel doesn’t exist in a vacuum; something always gets paused or missed.

For me, I weigh:

  • How long am I willing to be away?
  • Will I regret missing something at home?
  • Is the trade-off worth it right now?

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it isn’t. But being honest with yourself matters.

Where you are in life

I think a lot about age and timing.
Where do you see yourself in five years? Will this trip fit into that plan, or change it?

Some travels feel best before bigger commitments; others fit beautifully at any stage.
There’s no deadline to see the world, but sometimes, your life stage helps guide when and where to go.

The “how long” question

It’s not always about visas or money; sometimes it’s emotional:

  • Do I want to feel settled somewhere?
  • Do I just want a burst of adventure?
  • Do I want to keep moving or stay in one place?

There’s no rulebook. I’ve loved quick city breaks and months-long stays, each gave me something different.

The final thought

When people ask me how to choose where to go and for how long, the truth is: there isn’t a formula.

Start with your heart, check in with your reality, and ask yourself:

  • Where lights you up?
  • What can you afford; in money, time, and what you’d leave behind?
  • And what feels right for right now?

And remember: there’s no perfect choice, no “best” way.
The important part is that you go at all.

Because whether it’s a weekend, a month, or a year… you’ll come home different.
And that’s always worth it.

My personal experience

Right now, I’m in that planning stage again.
I’m always super excited for my next adventure, but there’s always that little battle in my head:
Where do I go? How long do I go for? Should I get a visa? Who should I go with? What am I potentially leaving behind? Should I follow my gut or my heart?

And now, being 25 (oof), I’m starting to think about a five-year plan for myself and what I want my future to look like. If I don’t travel now, then when will I? But if I keep travelling now, what will my next five years look like?

I don’t think anyone truly knows the “right” answer. I sure don’t. But I do know that in the end, I’ll come to the answer that’s right for me.

And maybe that’s the point.

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From Boarding Passes to Blog Posts: Thank You, Dad

When I think about where my love for travel and adventure began, I don’t just think about airports and guidebooks, I think about my dad.

Growing up, we were lucky enough to do a lot of family traveling. From the turquoise waters of Turks and Caicos to the vibrant culture of Jamaica, the quiet beauty of Samana to the sun-soaked beaches of Barbados and Punta Cana, our family adventures gave me some of the most unforgettable memories. Whether we were sailing along the coast, feeding iguanas on a remote island, or snorkelling through coral reefs, travel was always more than a vacation, it was an experience. And my dad was at the heart of it.

When I was little, I used to chase him through the airport because he always walked so fast. He’d be three terminals ahead with the passports and boarding passes while I was half-running behind him with my backpack bouncing. It was chaos in the best way, and I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

One of my favourite shared adventures was getting my scuba certification with him. It was exciting and a little intimidating, but knowing he was beside me; calm, capable, and cheering me on, made it all feel possible. That’s kind of the theme with him. He’s always been my anchor.

Now, as an adult navigating the world on my own, that support hasn’t changed. Like when I got really sick alone in New Zealand, he was just a call away. Even from halfway across the globe, he knew exactly what to say to calm me down, help me figure things out, and make me feel like everything was going to be okay. (He even helped me sort out a situation when an ATM in Nice swallowed my money. Time zones and all – he’s always there.)

He’s also one of my biggest cheerleaders when it comes to following my dreams. From encouraging me to keep traveling and chasing what lights me up, to fully supporting my blog and everything I’m building with it, his belief in me has never wavered. He reminds me that it’s okay to take the road less traveled and that doing what you love is always worth it.

Beyond travel, he’s also a big reason I love writing. As an author himself, he showed me early on the power of storytelling, how words can connect people, explore new worlds, and leave something lasting behind. So much of this blog, and my passion for sharing experiences through words, comes from the inspiration he gave me.

He’s the person I call when I need advice, a little reality check, or just a moment of calm in the chaos. From helping me weigh big decisions to giving me that reassuring “you’ve got this” when I need it most, his support is the kind that sticks with you, even from across an ocean.

After spending Father’s Day with the man himself, I just want to say thank you. For encouraging adventure. For being my sounding board, my travel buddy, and the person I trust most when I need a little clarity. Whether we’re diving beneath the surface of the ocean or navigating life’s trickier currents, I’m grateful to have you by my side.

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Nearly 25…

Turning 25 feels like crossing an invisible threshold, one I didn’t know I was walking toward until suddenly it’s just over a month away.

I finished university, and like many others, I left with a degree I wasn’t sure how to use. And that’s okay, more people are in the same boat than you’d think. Some are working jobs completely unrelated to their studies. Some are exploring different paths. Some are figuring it out one odd contract or side hustle at a time. There’s no perfect blueprint.

Friendships have changed, too. Some have faded so slowly I barely noticed until months passed without a text. Others ended more abruptly, in silence or in words we didn’t know how to take back. And while that used to hurt more, I’ve started to understand that not every friendship is meant to last forever, some are there for a season, to teach you something, to get you through a phase, or to remind you of who you were at a certain time in your life.

But there’s beauty in that, too. Because some friendships come back. A message out of the blue turns into a conversation that feels like no time has passed at all. People grow and change, and sometimes they grow in the same direction again. I’ve had friends I thought I lost forever find their way back into my life, and this time, the connection feels deeper, more mature, more honest.

I’ve also made new friends in places I didn’t expect to: through work, mutual friends at parties, while travelling, and even online. These aren’t always instant soulmates. Sometimes they start small; a shared joke, a kind gesture, and slowly become the people you text when something exciting (or awful) happens. You realize that good friendships don’t always look like what you imagined in high school. They’re less about constant communication and more about feeling seen, supported, and safe when you do talk.

The hardest part has been accepting that friendship isn’t about quantity. It’s not about having a big group chat or always being surrounded by people. It’s about depth. About knowing someone truly has your back. About being there for each other when it counts, even if you haven’t spoken in a while. And learning to be okay with the gaps in between.

In your twenties, friendship becomes less about proximity and more about intention. It’s not always convenient. People move, work different schedules, change priorities. But the ones who want to stay in your life will make space for you, and you’ll do the same. It might not look like the sleepovers and spontaneous hangouts of your teens, but there’s something beautiful in growing alongside people who are also just trying to figure life out.

Relationships? That’s a whole chapter in itself. There have been casual flings, awkward first dates, hilarious miscommunications, and a few moments that made me question everything, but also some really beautiful connections. Some experiences were fleeting but fun, others taught me more about myself than I expected. Through it all, I’ve learned many things, good and a bit questionable, but I wouldn’t want to change that.

Somewhere in the mix of late-night conversations, coffee dates, travel crushes, and “what are we?” talks, I’ve started to see that love doesn’t always come in a lightning bolt moment. Sometimes it builds, quietly, patiently, and sometimes it surprises you. Whether it’s something short-lived or something long-term, relationships in your twenties remind you how capable you are of loving, learning, and growing. They aren’t just about finding “the one”, they’re about discovering different versions of yourself along the way. And that, honestly, feels kind of magical.

Travel, everyone says “do it while you’re young.” And I have. I’ve wandered cobblestone streets in Europe, walked the hills of Hobbiton, eaten tacos on a beach in Mexico, and lived out of a suitcase longer than I ever expected. And honestly? I wouldn’t change it. Travel has opened my eyes to new cultures, people, food, and perspectives. It’s taught me how to navigate unfamiliar places (and train stations), adapt when plans change, and feel at home even when I’m far from it.

But sometimes, I do wonder; where does it all get you? Is it just a series of Instagram posts and postcards? Is it avoidance? Is it the “right” thing to do, or just the most romanticized?

The truth is, it’s not always glamorous. There are missed connections, bad Airbnbs, language barriers, and days where you feel completely alone in a crowd. But there’s also a kind of magic in that discomfort. You discover so much about yourself when you’re in a new city with no familiar safety net, when you have to make decisions, find your way, meet new people, or just sit with yourself in silence at a café.

Some of my best memories live in those moments; watching a sunset in a place I may never return to, laughing uncontrollably with someone, or simply getting lost and finding something better than what I was originally looking for.

Travel hasn’t “solved” my life, but it’s added layers to it. It’s given me stories, perspective, friendships, and an understanding of how big (and small) the world really is. It made me realize I can be brave, that I can make it on my own, and that sometimes you just have to book the ticket and trust that the rest will follow.

So is it worth it? Definitely. But it’s not the answer to everything, it’s just one chapter in figuring it all out. A really good chapter.

At times, I’ve felt behind. Like I’m not on the same timeline as everyone else. Not sure what job I want. Not sure what city I want to live in. Not sure if I’m doing this whole “adult” thing right. And while I’d love to say I’ve figured it all out. I haven’t. Should I be listening to Mel Robbins? Should I be waking up at 5am and cold plunging and journaling with a gratitude pen? Should I just take the stable job and stack savings, or risk it all to pursue something creative?

There’s no clear answer. And that might be the point.

The first half of your twenties is strange. You go from being told what to do every year of your life; school, graduation, next steps, to suddenly having full control. No rules. No road map. No bumpers on the bowling lane. You can do almost anything (within reason… let’s be real), and that freedom is both thrilling and terrifying. You start to realize how deeply human everyone is. No one – not a single person – has it fully figured out.

And weirdly, that helps.

So here I am, nearly 25, standing in that in-between space. A little lost, a little hopeful. I don’t know what’s next, but I do know I’m not alone in feeling this way. And if you’re reading this thinking, same, then I’m glad we’re in it together.

Because this might not be the most stable, certain, or polished chapter of life… But it sure as hell is an interesting one.

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Mother-Daughter Miles: Why Traveling with My Mom Means So Much

A Mother’s Day Reflection

There’s something really special about traveling with your mom, it’s like bringing a piece of home with you wherever you go.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I spent the day with the person who’s not only raised me, but also travelled the world with me. Together we’ve been to Turks and Caicos, Punta Cana, St. Lucia, Mexico, London, Paris… and the list keeps growing. It’s wild to think about how many places we’ve experienced side by side, how many planes we’ve boarded, hotel beds we’ve crashed into, and sunrises we’ve seen from opposite corners of the globe.

One of the best things I’ve discovered traveling with my mom is that those moments of homesickness are fewer and farther between. When your mom is right there beside you, whether you’re sipping a drink in Saint Lucia or trying to read a subway map in Paris, it’s like a piece of home is traveling right along with you.

There’s a quiet kind of joy that comes from watching your mom discover something for the first time, or the fifth time. Whether it’s a meal, a sunset, or a charming little side street, her face lights up like it’s all brand new. Those are the moments I’ll carry with me the longest, not just the places we went, but the way we experienced them together.

And I know that one day I’ll treasure those memories even more than I do now. The funny stories, the missed trains, the sketchy hotels, and the little travel mishaps, they all become part of a shared language we speak together. It’s like collecting inside jokes across time zones.

There’s definitely a difference between traveling with your mom and traveling with friends or solo. You take fewer risks, but in a comforting way, like maybe you’re not out at the club till 2 a.m., but you’re wandering through cobblestone streets at sunset, or having your second scoop of gelato on a quiet bench. It’s a different type of fun, slower, maybe but deeply special.

Plus, when I’m with my mom, I feel like nothing can really go that wrong. Sure, plans change, things go sideways, but she’s like a built-in safety net. She rolls with the punches better than anyone I know, and somehow still makes it fun.

That said, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, There are definitely “Mom, stop” moments, but honestly, that’s the charm of it. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything, even the time I booked us an Airbnb on the fifth floor of an old Parisian building… and forgot to mention there was no elevator. Oops. (We made it though, and yes, she still brings it up.)

I’ve been traveling with my parents since I was little, but now, being in my mid-twenties, it feels different. It feels intentional. And honestly, sometimes it just feels like traveling with a friend.

As Lorelai Gilmore once said:
“You know what the great thing about moms is? They’re like the perfect travel companion”

Here’s to all the moms who make the journey even better.