I am, at my core, a homebody.

I like waking up in my own bed, making my coffee just how I like it, taking my usual walk. I like doing things around the house and having nowhere in particular I need to be. I can happily spend days at home without getting the slightest bit stir-crazy or having FOMO. There’s a sameness to my days, but it’s a sameness I genuinely enjoy.

The paradox is that I’m also almost always thinking about where we’re going next. There’s usually a trip taking shape, something already booked, or something being researched.

Although I’m a creature of habit, I’m also a free spirit. I want to keep moving, traveling, exploring. I want to see places I haven’t seen and have experiences I haven’t had. The idea of ever reaching a point where that curiosity runs out feels almost impossible.

At home, I’m rooted. Familiar. Domestic. I find comfort in repetition and knowing what my day will look like.

But there’s an equally adventurous part of me that craves the unfamiliar. A change of scenery, a different culture, a different pace. I like waking up without knowing exactly how the day is going to unfold.

And yet, I’ve never wanted a life permanently in motion. I could never travel full time. Even if I had endless money and nothing tying me to one place, I would still choose to come home. As much as I want to keep seeing the world, I need somewhere familiar to return to.

It’s interesting how easily those two instincts coexist. The desire to be home and the desire to keep leaving it. To be rooted and untethered. To crave routine and a life that constantly interrupts it.

I suspect there are a lot of us like this: homebodies with wandering spirits.

Let me begin by saying that I don’t have any industry data or insider sources to back these up - just a handful of travel predictions I’ve been thinking about for a while.

I’m putting them in writing so there’s proof if I’m right ; )

1. Dude Ranches Are About to Have a Moment

I’ve actually been saying this for a couple of years and it’s yet to happen…but I refuse to let it go.

I think we’re going to see more people booking working ranches for vacation. I feel like there’s a growing appetite for travelers who crave outdoor adventure, nature, and experiences that feel more immersive.

Think early mornings, horseback riding, ranch work, home-cooked meals, and ending your days around a campfire with people who wanted more than a traditional vacation.

2. Wine Tourism Is Going to Make a Comeback

People are drinking less alcohol overall, and the wine industry has definitely felt the impact over the last few years.

It sounds counterintuitive, but I actually think that’s what gives wine tourism the potential to make a really strong comeback.

Instead of trying to get people to drink more wine, I think we’re going to see a bigger emphasis on getting people interested in wine as a hobby. Visiting vineyards. Meeting winemakers. Learning about grape varieties, terroir, and seeing the entire winemaking process firsthand.

If the pendulum does swing back, it will be driven more by curiosity than consumption.

3. Travel Will Get a Lot More Niche

I think we’re going to see people become a lot more specific about why they travel. Instead of starting with the destination, I think trips will start with one very specific interest.

For example:

“I want to go truffle hunting.” That leads you to Piedmont, Italy.

“I want to source the best sterling silver.” That leads you to Taxco, Mexico.

“I want to stay at the oldest inn in America.” That leads you to a place you probably never would’ve considered otherwise.

Essentially, the precise interest comes first and the destination/itinerary follows.

4. Alternative Destinations Are About to Shine

Instead of planning a trip around the obvious destination, I think people are going to start asking, “Where else could we go for a similar experience?”

Maybe that’s Texas Hill Country instead of Napa? A lot of people don’t even realize Texas has a serious wine scene.

Or maybe you’re drawn to Austin’s live music and creative energy, but you opt for Tulsa instead?

It’s more about looking past the obvious and asking, “What else is out there?”

5. The Apprenticeship Vacation Will Go Mainstream

This one I’m probably most excited about, both as a traveler and because I hope it gains more traction.

I think we’re going to see more people build entire trips around learning a skill. Instead of sightseeing for a week or two, you spend that time learning from someone who’s spent years mastering their craft.

There’s a company called Vacation With An Artist (VAWAA) that actually does this. They connect travelers with artists and craftspeople around the world. You can study pottery, textiles, woodworking, photography, ceramics, jewelry making, printmaking… literally anything you can think of!

If there’s one thing that ties all of the predictions together, it’s that travel is becoming more purposeful, more intentional, and more rooted in doing rather than seeing. Do you have any travel predictions or hot takes?

If you had asked me seven years ago if I wanted to be a mother, my answer would have been an easy yes. Although I wasn’t in a rush, I always assumed I’d have children someday. I think I have a strong nurturing instinct and I loved the idea of bringing a child into the world and raising him or her to the best of my ability.

So What Changed?

To answer that, I have to go back.

In my early twenties, I was talking with my then manager, Dawn, about her son and the ups and downs of motherhood. She asked if I wanted children and I said, “Eventually, but I’m too selfish right now.” She laughed and replied, “Well, I hate to break it to you, but the older you get the more selfish you get.”

At 22, I understood what she meant as best I could. But I couldn’t fully appreciate it until I lived it. And you know what? Dawn was right - at least in my case.

Not “selfish” in the egotistical or greedy sense. I took her to mean that as we get older, we come to know ourselves better. We grow into who we are and what we want our lives to look like. The picture becomes clearer and you’re less willing to compromise on what matters most to you.

All these years later, I still remember that conversation. It was such an ordinary exchange, but her words stayed with me.

Freedom Found

Years later, during Covid, my husband and I spent a lot of time camping and taking road trips. What started as a way to get out of the house became the foundation for the life we live today. It changed how we wanted to spend our time, our money, and ultimately our lives.

As the years went on, I found myself wanting to protect that life more and more. I realized that the life my husband and I were building had become the one I wanted. As that became clearer, so did my feelings about having kids.

Of course, I know you can have children and travel the world. Plenty of people do. But for us, the life we’ve built feels fulfilling exactly as it is.

An Unexpected Gift

Then came my niece and nephew.

My older sister gave me two of the greatest gifts imaginable. They’re about to turn three and five, and getting to be their aunt has been one of the most unexpected joys of my life.

Of course, I know being an aunt is nothing like being a mother and I’ll never pretend otherwise. But loving them gave me a perspective I didn’t have before. I realized I could have a meaningful relationship with children without needing to be their parent. I get to watch them grow, celebrate who they’re becoming, and be part of their lives in a way I’ll always cherish.

Will I Regret It?

I don’t know.

I can only speak for the person I am today. My decision wasn’t made overnight. It was shaped by years of experiences, conversations, and a growing understanding of the life that feels most authentic to me.

My husband and I are on the same page and that’s what matters most. If that ever changes, we’re happy to have that conversation. But today, this life we’ve built together feels full because we’ve been honest about what brings us joy.

On a recent trip to Hawaii, I caught myself wondering something I never expected to ask: Am I supposed to be here? Not because anyone made me feel unwelcome. Quite the opposite, actually. Everyone we met was incredibly kind and genuine.

The source of that question wasn’t surprising once I stopped and thought about it. I think I’d internalized years of conversations online about ethical tourism, over-tourism, and whether tourists should just stay home. Maybe it’s one of those “chronically online” debates, but when you’re exposed to that discourse long enough, some of it’s bound to stick.

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s healthy to challenge the current state of tourism. It’s also important to ask how we can be better visitors, whether that’s supporting local businesses, participating in volunteer efforts, respecting local customs, or taking the time to learn the history.

But I also wonder if we’ve started drifting into something else…

If we follow this conversation to its logical conclusion, where does it end? If the message we’re absorbing is “stay home” or “this place is full,” at what point do people start feeling like they’re not supposed to travel at all?

I guess what I’m left wondering is whether the loudest conversations online actually reflect real life. Have they gotten so loud that they start to feel bigger than they really are? Or are those online conversations a more honest reflection of what people really think?

Five years ago, if you’d told me I’d someday have strong opinions about hotel loyalty programs, I probably would’ve laughed.

A hotel was just a hotel. I booked whatever looked nice, fit my budget, and was in the right location. The idea of being loyal to a single hotel brand felt unnecessary at best and a little cultish at worst.

And yet, here we are…

It started in 2021 after a stay that exceeded both my husband’s and my expectations. From there, we decided to prioritize Hilton properties when traveling. At first, it was purely practical: we liked the consistency, the points system, and the benefits that came with being Hilton Honors members and cardholders. What I didn’t expect was that a decision I once viewed as limiting would end up expanding our options rather than narrowing them.

More Than Points

First and foremost, if this sounds like a Hilton ad, I promise it isn’t. Nobody paid me to write this. I wish. I’ve just spent the last few years unintentionally becoming weirdly invested in the Hilton brand.

As for the benefits, they’re pretty straightforward: points accumulate, free nights add up quickly, and earning status comes with some significant advantages. Those perks are nice, but they aren’t what ultimately changed my perspective. The longer we stayed within Hilton’s orbit, the more we came to appreciate how expansive their portfolio was. It challenged the outdated version of Hilton I carried around for years.

Collections like Curio and Tapestry represent a more design-forward and curated side of Hilton. These properties feel less standardized and more distinctive than what most people picture when they think of the brand. Our favorite development was Hilton’s 2024 partnership with Small Luxury Hotels of the World (SLH), which added hundreds of boutique and luxury hotels to the Hilton ecosystem.

A Few Favorite Discoveries

The easiest way to illustrate my point is to show you a few of our favorite stays from the last few years.

Wentworth Mansion in Charleston was our first Hilton/SLH stay and the beginning of a much deeper dive into the kinds of properties available through Hilton.

We’ve traveled to Portugal twice, including a month-long trip, and Infante Sagres remains one of the most memorable hotels we’ve stayed in. It’s also an SLH property available through Hilton.

Given our positive experiences with Hilton and its partners, we recently booked a stay at a restored Venetian mansion in Crete: Casa Delfino Hotel & Spa. Stay tuned for that!

The Takeaway?

I don’t know that there’s a grand takeaway here.

I just find it interesting that what started as a fairly practical travel decision ended up being more rewarding than I expected. We’ve gotten a tremendous amount of value from the points, status, and benefits alone. What I didn’t anticipate was how many incredible hotels we’d discover along the way.

Out of curiosity, are there any brands you’ve found yourself unexpectedly loyal to over the years? Hotels, airlines, credit cards, anything…

I went to Las Vegas last month for the first time in about three years. I’ve probably been six or seven times throughout my life, enough to feel like I know the city reasonably well. Not as a local (obviously) but as someone who’s visited enough times to recognize when something feels different.

Over the last few years, I’ve heard plenty of people say that Vegas is dead. That it’s lost its edge. That it isn’t what it used to be.

After spending a few days there, I came away with a different impression…Vegas doesn’t feel dead to me. It feels like it’s rebranding.

The casinos are still packed. The spectacle is still there. The excess is still there. The Strip is as bright and chaotic as ever. The version of Vegas that most people picture when they think about the city hasn’t disappeared.

But it no longer feels like the whole story. What caught my attention was the feeling that the city was actively reinventing itself in real time.

More Than Gambling

The easiest way I can explain it is that Vegas no longer feels content being known primarily as a gambling destination.

Gambling is still the foundation, but the city seems to be investing heavily in other identities as well. A trip to Vegas is no longer the only way to place a bet or spend a weekend in a casino. Sports betting is widely accessible, casinos exist in more states than ever before, and gambling itself has become far less tied to a single destination. Rather than replacing what made it famous, Vegas seems to be giving people more reasons to visit.

The Stadium Era

The most obvious example is sports.

This was the first trip where I really noticed how much sports have become part of the city’s identity. From Golden Knights merchandise to Raiders gear and Formula One branding, reminders of the city’s sports ambitions seemed to be everywhere.

A decade ago, Las Vegas becoming a serious sports city would have sounded unlikely. Today it feels completely normal. The Golden Knights arrived in 2017. The Raiders followed in 2020. Formula One arrived in 2023. The Athletics are building a stadium and are expected to begin playing in Las Vegas in 2028.

I found myself thinking that Vegas doesn’t just host sporting events anymore…it’s actively becoming a sports city.

A Little Bit Nashville

The second thing I noticed surprised me even more.

Vegas reminded me of Nashville.

Country music seemed to be everywhere. Jason Aldean has a massive bar on the Strip. Luke Combs is opening one soon. Gilley’s has always been around, but now it feels less like a novelty and more like part of a larger trend.

For a city once defined by nightclub culture, I noticed more live music, more country bars, and a crowd that felt different than I remembered. Cowboy boots and hats seemed to be everywhere. Maybe those elements have been growing for years and I simply hadn’t paid attention, but this was the first time I left Vegas feeling like the city had taken on a little bit of Nashville.

The Old Vegas Is Still There

What makes all of this interesting is that none of it feels like a rejection of the old Vegas.

You can still wander through Fremont Street at midnight. You can still lose track of time inside a casino. You can still find all the weirdness and excess the city built its reputation on. Circus Circus is somehow still standing.

That’s why I don’t think Vegas is dying.

If anything, it feels like the city is preparing for what’s next. Not by abandoning its identity, but by expanding it.

Returning for the final installment of my Yellowstone series. Grand Teton and Yellowstone Parts 1 and 2 are already up if you’re interested in recommended itineraries, hikes, and things to do throughout the parks. This week I wanted to focus solely on our stay at Old Faithful Inn because it deserves its own post.

The Story Behind the Inn

The inn began construction in 1903 and was completed by 1904, which is hard to comprehend once you see the scale and craftsmanship in person. While the inn has an intentionally rustic, frontier-like design, it’s difficult to imagine a little over 100 men building something this intricate during Wyoming winters using only rudimentary tools and locally sourced logs.

When the Old House (the original structure of the inn) was completed, it was the largest log structure in the world. As tourism exploded throughout Yellowstone in the early 1900s, additional wings were added to accommodate growing numbers of visitors: the east wing in 1919 and the west wing in 1927.

One detail I found especially interesting was how modern the inn actually was for its time. When it opened in 1904, it already had electricity, steam heat, indoor plumbing, and telephones, which was almost unheard of considering how remote this part of Wyoming still feels even today.

Old Faithful Inn Today

Today, Old Faithful Inn operates seasonally, typically from around May through October depending on weather and park conditions. As mentioned, the inn is divided into three main sections: the original Old House, plus the east and west wings.

The Old House rooms are the most historic and, in many cases, still use shared bathrooms rather than private bathrooms inside the rooms themselves. The communal bathrooms are separated into men’s and women’s facilities and were consistently very clean during our stay. Some Old House rooms do have private bathrooms, though they’re more limited.

The east and west wings generally offer more modern accommodations. Most rooms include private bathrooms and more standard hotel-style layouts while still maintaining the inn’s overall character. Another thing worth noting is that none of the rooms throughout the inn have air conditioning, though even during our summer stay we barely noticed the absence of it once we were there.

If staying at the inn is important to you, especially during peak summer months, I’d definitely recommend booking months in advance. Certain room types and sections seem to fill particularly fast, especially within the Old House portion of the inn.

One of the biggest advantages of staying at the inn is being just steps away from the geyser basin and Old Faithful. We loved going out early in the morning and later at night once most of the crowds had cleared out. At times, it felt like having a private viewing of the basin.

There are also a few different dining options within the property: the main dining room (Old Faithful Dining Room), more casual spots (Bear Pit Lounge), and a grab-and-go deli and café. Honestly, once we checked in we never really felt a need to leave the area.

Our Room + A Few Things Worth Knowing

Before I get into a few tips and things we learned while staying here, I want to make an honorable mention to the room we stayed in: Room 237.

We knew we wanted to stay in the Old House section but didn’t request a specific room, so we ended up getting pretty lucky, especially if you’re interested in the history of the inn itself. While there’s no official signage or designation on the room, a few staff members told us Room 237 was where architect Robert Reamer stayed while designing the inn in the early 1900s.

The room itself felt tucked away and quiet with a small private staircase leading up to the entrance. Between the layout and the history tied to the room, it just felt extra special staying there.

Now for my recommendations: stay in the Old House section if possible. The rooms are less standardized and definitely more historic, and if you’re someone who appreciates the original architecture and character of the inn, it’s worth it.

Worth noting, you can call and request specific rooms when booking. Nothing is guaranteed, but if the room is available they’ll try to accommodate requests. Rooms in the Old House section seem to go especially fast, particularly the rooms with views overlooking Old Faithful.

Also worth mentioning, the inn labels the main lobby level as the “ground floor,” so what they call the “first floor” is technically what most people would probably think of as the second floor. Knowing the distinction definitely makes navigating the inn a little easier.

Another recommendation: take the free tour that meets near the stone fireplace on the ground floor (the meeting times are posted nearby). The tour ended up being one of the most unexpectedly interesting things we did while staying there. We learned a lot more about the history of Yellowstone, the inn itself, and details we definitely would’ve missed otherwise.

The tour is actually how we learned about the Tub Room, which I probably never would’ve discovered on my own. Tucked away on the inn’s “first floor” are two private bathing rooms with deep clawfoot tubs and vintage tile. They’re first come, first serve, spotless, and just a really great way to take advantage of everything the inn offers.

One final tip: don’t just focus on Old Faithful. There are eruption prediction boards throughout the area listing estimated eruption times for several nearby geysers. Daisy Geyser, Castle Geyser, and Riverside Geyser were a few of our favorites beyond Old Faithful.

Wrapping Up Yellowstone

After two weeks in the park, I can genuinely say I wouldn’t have ended the trip any differently. I’m really glad we saved Old Faithful Inn for the end because it gave us a chance to slow down and take in everything we had done over the course of the trip: all the hiking, wildlife sightings, nights by the campfire, boat outings, and long stretches of road winding through the park.

If you’re planning your own Yellowstone trip and have questions, feel free to leave a comment. And if you haven’t read them already, Yellowstone Parts 1 and 2 go much more into detail about the hikes, campgrounds, and different areas of the park.

And yes, in case anyone was wondering, we eventually hit our 100 trail miles ; )

In part one of my Yellowstone series, we left off at Madison Campground. From there, we headed roughly 40 miles east toward Lake Lodge for the second part of our stay in the park. Even though it wasn’t that far, this side of Yellowstone felt noticeably different. The first stretch felt more concentrated and centered around the thermal areas, while this part of the park felt more open. The views felt wider, greener, and a little more expansive.

Day one: Lake Lodge Cabins

After picking up provisions, we arrived at the Lake Lodge Cabins. They were rustic but still felt luxurious after three nights of tent camping. We had a proper bed, electricity, and a bathroom. Hallelujah!

There wasn’t Wi-Fi in the cabin itself, but we were able to get it at the main lodge which was a short walk away. The main lodge had a huge veranda overlooking Yellowstone Lake, casual dining, a bar, and huge fireplaces inside.

We kept things simple that first night. We grabbed some wine from the lodge, walked around, and watched the sunset.

Day two: Elephant Back + Storm Point Loop

Our first full day started with Elephant Back Mountain Trail in the morning, followed by Storm Point Loop in the afternoon.

Elephant Back was definitely the more challenging of the two. It’s a moderate hike with some steep sections and switchbacks, but the payoff is well worth it. At the top, you get sweeping views of Yellowstone Lake. From that vantage point, it helps you reorient yourself and gives you a better sense of just how massive the lake is.

*If the trails show as “closed” on AllTrails in the screenshots below, it’s because of seasonal closures. Most Yellowstone hikes start reopening in late April and May, depending on conditions.

After Elephant Back, we wanted something a little easier, so we picked nearby Storm Point Loop. It felt like a good contrast after the difficult climb. It was flatter, more relaxed, and just a good way to wrap up our hiking for the day.

We ended the afternoon by renting a boat onYellowstone Lake. It was a fun callback to renting one on Jackson Lake in Grand Teton, even though the two experiences were completely different. Unlike Jackson Lake, Yellowstone Lake was windier, rougher, and a lot less forgiving (at least on that day). Regardless, we had a ton of fun and it was definitely worth doing.

Day three: Pelican Creek + Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

Day three was easily the most exciting day of this stretch!

We got up early with plans to hike Pelican Creek, only to realize the trail wasn’t open yet. That specific trail has a lot of grizzly activity so they delay the morning opening so people don’t disrupt them when they’re most active and feeding. Technically, you could ignore the closure, but we chose to stay smart and follow the park’s guidance.

Instead, we pivoted and drove to Nine Mile Trail to do a short, nearby hike while we waited. On the way there, we noticed a bunch of cars pulled off to the side of the road near Yellowstone Lake. That’s usually a good sign that there’s some kind of wildlife nearby, so of course we stopped too.

That’s where we saw a grizzly bear…

We’d already seen a ton of wildlife by that point, but I’d been holding out hope the entire trip that I would eventually see a grizzly bear. It felt a bit ironic that the trail we originally wanted to do was delayed because of grizzly activity, and then on the way to our backup hike, we ended up seeing one anyway. The universe works in funny ways.

Once we finished Nine Mile (of which we only did about 2.5 miles), we headed back to Pelican Creek to do the original hike now that it was open. Even though that trail has a lot of grizzly activity, we were relieved not to see any. As incredible as they are to spot from a distance, seeing one while you’re out on a trail is a very different story.

From there, we made our way toward Canyon Village to see the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. We hadn’t really planned on doing any more hiking at that point and figured we’d just drive through and stop at the overlooks, but we ended up doing both the North and South Rim trails anyway (surprise, surprise).

It’s hard to put into words just how enormous and magnificent the canyon felt in person. Standing next to waterfalls dropping hundreds of feet really makes you appreciate how violent and beautiful nature can be. More than anything, it deepened my respect for the wilderness. If you get a chance to come to Yellowstone, definitely put this on your list. We almost didn’t, and it would have been a shame.

Day four: Natural Bridge + Shoshone Lake

On our last morning at Lake Lodge, we checked out and squeezed in one final nearby hike: Yellowstone’s Natural Bridge Trail.

From there, we started making our way south. But because we can’t just drive from point A to point B without stopping for a hike, we opened up AllTrails and found one more in the area: the Delacy Creek Trail out to Shoshone Lake. By that point, we’d already challenged ourselves to hike 100 miles in Yellowstone, and since we still had time to kill before check-in, it just made sense.

After we OFFICIALLY wrapped up hiking for this leg of the trip, we made our way to the Old Faithful Inn where we’d be spending our last three nights in the park.

Come back next week for the final installment of my Yellowstone series. ❤️

Picking back up from last week, we left Grand Teton and headed north into Yellowstone. We knew it would be bigger and more spread out, but it didn’t fully sink in until we got there just how much your base matters. Yellowstone is huge and if you try to do too much from one place, it’s easy to spend more of the trip driving than you planned.

Our first Yellowstone base was Madison Campground where we stayed for three nights. It ended up being a great place to start. It felt fairly central, put us close to some of the park’s biggest geothermal areas (including Old Faithful) and gave us a lot of flexibility to explore from there.

Day one: Madison Campground + Old Faithful

Coming from the southern end of Grand Teton, it took us a few hours to make our way into Yellowstone and over to Madison Campground. If you’re doing a similar route, you’ll most likely enter through Yellowstone’s South Entrance and then work your way northwest toward Madison. Even if it doesn’t look that far on a map, park driving is always slower than you think it’s going to be (especially in summer) so I’d plan on this taking a good chunk of the day.

Madison Campground was simple but worked well for what we needed. Our tent site was $37 a night and had absolutely no cell service, which honestly was kind of nice. The campground had bathrooms with sinks and a dishwashing area, but no showers. If you wanted one, the easiest option was paying a small fee to use the showers at Old Faithful Inn.

We brought all of our camping gear from home, and since we were only camping for three nights, we kept it simple. Our tent, sleeping bags, cookware, and the basics fit into one medium-sized suitcase.

After setting up camp, we drove to Old Faithful Inn that evening for our first look at both the inn and Old Faithful itself. There’s a small bar on the mezzanine level with a large deck overlooking the geyser basin. We grabbed a glass of wine, sat outside, and watched Old Faithful erupt. It goes off roughly every 90 minutes, give or take, so it’s pretty easy to catch if you’re already in the area. It ended up being the perfect way to end our first day in Yellowstone.

Day two: Fairy Falls + Gardiner

I briefly mentioned the AllTrails app in last week’s article, but it’s worth emphasizing how useful it is on a trip like this. I’ve used it for years to research trails, check mileage and elevation, download maps, track hikes, and read recent comments about trail conditions, wildlife, closures, or anything else worth knowing before heading out. It also keeps all of your stats in one place which makes it easy to look back on or share with other people. Between Grand Teton and Yellowstone, we logged more than 100 trail miles, not even counting all the other steps we were getting throughout the day.

One of the hikes I’d absolutely recommend from this part of the park was Fairy Falls Trail. If you’re already planning to stop at Midway Geyser Basin to see Grand Prismatic Spring, which most people do, it’s an easy add-on because it starts in the same general area. The trailhead is just south of Midway near the Grand Prismatic overlook. From there, you can do the short overlook trail or keep going all the way out to Fairy Falls. Our hike ended up being around 7 miles out and back. It felt like a really efficient stop since we were able to park once, see one of Yellowstone’s main attractions, and tack on a genuinely good hike.

We got off the trail with more than enough day left, so we decided to keep heading north through the park toward Gardiner, Montana. From that part of Yellowstone, it was about 1.5 to 2 hours depending on traffic and whatever wildlife was causing delays. Truthfully, we mostly just wanted an excuse to step foot in Montana since it was my first time. We ended up having lunch at Iron Horse Bar & Grille right on the Yellowstone River. After that, we slowly made our way back to camp, taking in the scenery and hoping for a few more animal sightings along the way.

*A quick note if you’re new to hiking in Yellowstone: there is always a little bit of mental stress in the background because you’re very aware that you’re in real bear country. We always carried bear spray, stayed alert, and made noise on the trail: talking, clapping, whistling, just not moving quietly, especially through blind spots. It sounds dramatic until you’re out there, then it starts to feel very normal.

Day three: Sentinel Meadows to Imperial Geyser

The next day, we did one of my favorite hikes from our Madison stretch: Sentinel Meadows to Imperial Geyser. Ours ended up being right around 12 miles, and by the end, we definitely felt it.

What I loved most about this one was how quiet it was. We had long stretches of the trail completely to ourselves, which felt rare in Yellowstone considering how crowded it can be. At the bigger roadside stops, everything is boardwalks, railings, and designated viewing areas, so this hike felt almost surreal by comparison. Walking through wide-open meadows and geothermal terrain with so few people around made it feel much more raw and off-grid than a lot of Yellowstone’s main attractions.

There was no shortage of steaming vents, bubbling pools, small hot springs, little geysers, and mud pots along the way. By the time we reached Imperial Geyser, the main destination, it felt much more tucked away and remote than some of Yellowstone’s bigger-name thermal areas, which made the hike out there feel even more special. We spent some time taking it all in before heading back.

By the end of the hike we were pretty wiped, so we headed back to camp, freshened up a bit, and spent the rest of the day chatting by the fire.

Day four: Purple Mountain + on to Lake Village

On our last morning at Madison, we woke up early, packed up camp, and did one final hike before heading to our next stop: Lake Village on Yellowstone Lake.

Our last hike from the Madison area was Purple Mountain. It was probably the most strenuous one we did from that base. It wasn’t the longest, but it definitely felt the hardest because of the climb. Ours ended up being around 7 miles with roughly 1,700 feet of elevation gain, so it felt more intense than some of the earlier hikes we’d done.

We brought a packed breakfast and ate at the top, which ended up being one of my favorite moments from our Madison stay. From different points on the trail (especially higher up) you get these wide views over the Madison and Gibbon area, and on a clear day, you can see the Tetons.

After the hike, we made our way east toward Yellowstone Lake where we’d be spending the next phase of the trip in a cabin at Lake Village. It’s also where I saw my first-ever grizzly bear, which I’ll get into in part two next week. Stay tuned!

Last July, we booked a trip to Yellowstone and decided to add a few days in Grand Teton since we were already so close. We expected it to be the beautiful opening act to the more sprawling Yellowstone experience. Instead, it ended up being one of the most visually striking places we’ve ever been and a destination that deserved far more than a stop along the way.

If you’re pairing the two parks, I do think Grand Teton before Yellowstone is the right order. We stayed three nights, which gave us time for two great hikes, an afternoon on Jackson Lake, scenic drives, and one final sunrise stop before heading north. It was enough to get a feel for it, but looking back, I wish we had stayed longer.

Getting there

We flew in and out of Salt Lake City and rented a car, then made the roughly five-hour drive north to Jackson. We’ve realized we really love road trips out west, so we were more than happy to start the trip that way.

We spent a couple of hours in Jackson before heading into the park, mostly just walking around town and picking up a few provisions before settling in.

From Jackson, it took about another hour to reach Colter Bay Village on Jackson Lake, where we stayed inside the park for all three nights.

Where we stayed

We stayed in a log cabin at Colter Bay Village inside the park. The cabins are modest, but they have everything you’d want: electricity, Wi-Fi, and a proper bathroom. It felt like a great middle ground if you want to stay in the park without fully roughing it. Colter Bay’s cabins are typically open seasonally from late May through late September, so if you’re traveling in peak summer, it’s worth booking early.

Colter Bay was a really good base for exploring the park, especially for our itinerary. You’re right on Jackson Lake, which is the largest lake in Grand Teton. The area has a marina, general store, casual food options, and access to nearby trails. It also puts you in a convenient spot if you’re continuing north into Yellowstone after Grand Teton, which we were.

July in the Tetons

We visited in July, and while it was my first time there, I honestly can’t imagine a better month to go. The weather was perfect: cool in the mornings, warm and sunny during the day, then crisp again by evening. July also felt like a great sweet spot because everything was open and fully accessible, which made it easy to take full advantage of the park without overthinking logistics.

One thing that genuinely surprised us was the bugs, or really the lack of them. We had read comments on AllTrails (the app we use religiously when we hike) about summer bugs, so I expected that to be part of the experience, but we were pleasantly surprised that we really didn’t notice them at all. I’ll be talking more about AllTrails in my next article because it’s honestly a must.

Day one: Jenny Lake

Our first full day began early. We drove south from Colter Bay to Jenny Lake, about 35 to 40 minutes, for our morning hike and took the first boat shuttle across the lake. If you’re planning to do Hidden Falls, Inspiration Point, or continue into Cascade Canyon, I really think this is the right move. You can absolutely skip the boat and hike the perimeter of Jenny Lake instead, but the shuttle cuts off a couple miles each way and gets you on the trails much earlier.

Once you’re across the lake, you have options. Hidden Falls and Inspiration Point are the shorter, more popular stops if you just want a quick scenic hike. But if you want something longer and more immersive, keep going into Cascade Canyon. After those first two stops, the trail heads west into the canyon and takes you much deeper into it. This is also where we saw our first real wildlife of the trip, including moose and a mama bear with her cubs. By the time we finished the full out-and-back route, our hike was about 10 miles.

Because we started so early, our hike only took about four and a half hours, which still left plenty of the day open. We headed back to Colter Bay Village that afternoon and decided to rent a small motorboat from the marina and take it out on Jackson Lake for a few hours.

No special boating experience is required, and looking back, it ended up being a real highlight of our time in Grand Teton. We packed snacks and drinks, explored some of the little islands and inlets, and spent the afternoon just floating and sunbathing. Being out on the water was also the first time I really understood just how massive and grand the Tetons are. If you’re staying at Colter Bay, I’d absolutely recommend making time for it.

Day two: Taggart Lake

The next morning, we did another hike, this time at Taggart Lake (which ended up being the perfect contrast to Jenny Lake). We picked it somewhat randomly after looking at AllTrails and deciding it felt like the right amount of mileage and effort for that day, which turned out to be such a good choice.

Where Jenny Lake felt iconic and more heavily trafficked, Taggart Lake felt much quieter and more remote. We maybe saw one or two other small groups the entire time, which was a completely different experience from the day before. Our route ended up being around six miles. The standard Taggart Lake trail itself is about 3 miles roundtrip, but there are a few loop options from the same trailhead that make it easy to stretch it longer, which is what we did.

Our second full day in the park, like our first, ended up being a great balance. We hiked in the morning, then spent the rest of the day driving around, pulling off, and doing a little more unstructured wandering.

Last morning: Mormon Row

On our last morning, we woke up painfully early for sunrise at Mormon Row, one of the most photographed spots in Grand Teton. It’s on the southern end of the park, about 50 to 60 minutes from Colter Bay, so this was definitely the one time we really went out of our way, but it was worth it. Mormon Row was once a small Mormon homesteading community from the late 1800s, and the barns and buildings that are still standing today are part of what remains of that early settlement. Over time, it became one of the park’s most iconic photography spots because of the way the old structures sit against the Tetons, especially at sunrise.

I’d recommend getting there well before sunrise. We got there absurdly early, around 4 a.m., and there were already at least a dozen other people there waiting for that first light and the classic shot. After we watched the sunrise and got the shots we wanted, we headed north to Yellowstone.

* Pro tip: if you want the classic shot, stand slightly to the left of the front of the T.A. Moulton Barn. That gives you the most iconic composition with the Tetons behind it.

What I’d do differently

If you’re pairing Grand Teton with Yellowstone, my biggest advice is simple: don’t treat Grand Teton like the thing you squeeze in because it’s close. That’s what we did, and while we loved our three nights there, I really wish we had stayed longer. I wouldn’t really change anything we did while we were there. I’d just give the Tetons more time.

Stay tuned for next week’s piece, which is all about Yellowstone ❤️

In light of everything unfolding in the Middle East right now, the trip we were supposed to take to Dubai and Egypt in just a few days is no longer happening.

This isn’t about the canceled trip. It’s also not an attempt to unpack everything happening in the Middle East or turn something much bigger and more serious into a personal inconvenience. If anything, it’s about the opposite. It’s about what it feels like when your plans are suddenly interrupted by events far out of your control and how quickly that forces perspective.

I think a lot of us move through life assuming that if we plan carefully enough, things will mostly go the way we expect. Not perfectly, but close. We make plans, organize details, and start to believe that because something exists on the calendar, it’s stable. Until it isn’t. More than the cancellation itself, what really hit me was how quickly something you were so excited about can become secondary in the face of a much larger reality.

That perspective reminds you that the world does not bend around your plans, and that life isn’t only happening at the scale of your own desires. I think a lot of us, myself included, live inside a pretty controlled bubble most of the time. We spend so much of our lives inside our own little ecosystem that our plans and problems can start to feel larger than they actually are. Then something happens that reminds you how fragile that bubble is.

This whole situation was a good reminder that there’s a difference between making plans and becoming attached to them. I don’t think the lesson is to stop planning or stop looking forward to things. It’s that moments like this remind you how easy it is to mistake planning for certainty, and how fragile that perceived certainty really is. There’s something deeply humbling about being reminded of that.

I ended up taking a couple weeks away from Substack for no particular reason other than I’ve been doing the opposite of writing, which is reading. I fell into the A Court of Thorns and Roses series which has more or less taken over my life for the past few weeks.

During that time, something I heard shortly before my break kept lingering in the back of my head. I came across a video where someone with a formal writing background said she doesn’t really take people who write on Substack seriously. According to her, everyday people who publish online aren’t legitimate writers.

The implication was that people who publish essays online are self-important and full of themselves, like they’ve decided they’re writers simply because they have a platform.

Personally, the comment wasn’t offensive, but it did stick with me because it brought up feelings I suspect a lot of writers have: are people who write online just cosplaying as writers? And once that thought creeps in, you start wondering if narrating your ideas for an audience is a little ridiculous, if you’re taking yourself too seriously, or if your thoughts are even worth writing down in the first place.

But when I sat with that thought a little longer, I realized something else. Writing is actually how I make sense of my own thoughts. When I’m talking to someone, my brain is usually moving way too fast. Words come out wrong, ideas get jumbled, and I get easily distracted. I’ll be halfway through telling a story and suddenly start talking about something completely different. Writing slows everything down enough for me to actually say what I mean.

And I have a feeling that’s true for a lot of people. It’s not about claiming the title of “writer.” It’s about having a place to think clearly, to communicate, and to put ideas into the world. Which is why dismissing people outright because of where they publish or how they show up online feels unnecessarily harsh.

Education can absolutely sharpen someone’s writing. It can make someone more skilled with language and structure, but it doesn’t determine who’s legitimate and who isn’t. The idea that credibility in writing has to come from a particular background feels a bit… elitist.

So who gets to be a real writer?

Anyone who writes.

When did basic self-advocacy become socially embarrassing?

I’ve been asking myself this question since an unpleasant situation at the post office stuck with me longer than I expected. My mail had been put on hold without notice, I went in to ask why, and the interaction that followed was unnecessarily rude and dismissive. I stayed calm. I asked questions.

After I kept hitting a wall and wasn’t getting any real answers, I ended up filing a formal complaint (not so much to complain) but because it felt like the only way to get a straight answer after being repeatedly dismissed.

Even the thought of escalating the situation felt embarrassing, and after I submitted the complaint, that shameful whisper crept in: you’re being a Karen. You’re being difficult. Just let it go.

I can’t remember exactly when the Karen trope entered the cultural lexicon, but it originally described behavior that was genuinely entitled, aggressive, or abusive. Public meltdowns. Cruel treatment of service workers. Escalations wildly out of proportion to the issue at hand. Calling that out made sense.

But like most cultural labels, it bled into something broader. It widened. It flattened. It eventually became a catch-all pejorative for any time a woman expressed dissatisfaction, asked for accountability, or expected basic competence.

People now hesitate before speaking up. We downplay legitimate concerns. We brush off poor service. We accept disorganization and low standards to avoid the social penalty of being perceived as difficult. The fear of the label becomes stronger than the desire for resolution.

There’s a clear difference between being abusive and expecting systems to function properly. There’s a difference between berating someone and calmly asking for a supervisor when something isn’t handled correctly. Intellectually, we understand that. Culturally, the lines have blurred enough that many of us default to self-silencing.

That’s the slippery part. When a society begins to shame reasonable escalation, it lowers the baseline of what people will tolerate. Mediocrity becomes normalized. Disrespect becomes something you’re supposed to absorb. Over time, fewer people speak up, fewer complaints are filed, and institutions have little incentive to improve.

It can’t go unsaid that there’s an obvious gender dynamic at the center of this. Women have been socialized to be agreeable, accommodating, and low-maintenance. Now add a caricature that can instantly discredit you, and it becomes easier to swallow mistreatment than to risk being reduced to a stereotype.

None of this is an argument in favor of rude or disproportionate behavior. The world does not need more public spectacles. But it also doesn’t benefit from a culture where calmly expecting the bare minimum of respect and competence feels socially risky.

As it turns out, somewhere in the process of writing and untangling these thoughts, I may have answered my own question…

This morning I woke up with a memory I had not thought about in years, and the longer I sat with it, the more I realized how unhinged it actually was.

I must have been eleven, maybe twelve (deep in the dial-up era), when AOL chat rooms were a rite of passage for teens and preteens. You logged on, picked a username that felt slightly cooler or more mysterious than you actually were, and stepped into a digital room full of strangers. No profiles, no curated feeds, no photos, just screen names and lines of text appearing in real time.

Within seconds someone would ask: a/s/l? Age, sex, location. And without much thought, you answered.

13/F/Texas.

There was no hesitation because it felt innocent, almost like a digital handshake or a quick introduction that gave the other person a sense of who they were talking to. From there, slipping into a private message felt like a natural way to move the conversation forward and get to know someone innocently, or so you thought.

Looking back, the structure of it all is a little hard to believe. We were children entering one-on-one conversations with people we could not see, could not verify, and did not think to question. We trusted they were other kids simply because they said they were. That was the whole vetting process.

And what’s striking is that none of it felt reckless. It felt normal. We were growing up alongside the internet before anyone had the language to explain what that meant. Before conversations about digital footprints or online safety entered the cultural vocabulary.

In many ways, we were learning how to exist online at the same time the internet itself was still becoming what it is now. Chat rooms gave way to MySpace, which eventually gave way to the social platforms that shape so much of daily life today, and without realizing it, we were early participants in something entirely experimental.

There’s something surreal about recognizing that we were handing out personal details to complete strangers over a phone line that physically connected our homes to theirs, tying up the family landline just to talk to “XxSkaterBoixX” or “BabiiGurl17.”

And somehow, it all felt completely ordinary.

Every single thing I write starts the same way. In my Notes app.

Sometimes I dictate and clean it up after. Other times I type directly, thumbs flying, half-thoughts piling up faster than I can organize them. It’s unglamorous. It’s chaotic. But it works. Notes app is safe. It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t crash and eat your work a minute before you’re about to publish.

I learned that last one the hard way. I once made the bold choice to write directly inside Substack. Never again. I lost an entire piece right before publishing because I didn’t back it up anywhere. I stared at my screen in silence for a long time, defeated and mad at myself after a completely avoidable mistake. Lesson learned.

Once I finish writing and lightly formatting in Notes, I paste the whole thing into ChatGPT. For the record, you’ll see no ChatGPT hate from me. I use the same prompt every time: “Correct any glaring grammatical or spelling errors.” That’s it. No rewriting. No stylistic input. And for reasons I cannot explain, ChatGPT is a he in my head. He just is.

In theory, he sticks to the assignment. In practice, he can get a little…creative. Words swapped. Sentences tinkered with. Entire phrases rewritten without my consent. It’s incredibly annoying and despite repeated instructions, he does it anyway. Sometimes I wonder if it’s his version of self-expression or self-actualization, which is funny until you sit with that idea for more than three seconds and realize it’s mildly terrifying...

This is the same system that once told me he loved making a recipe I asked for. Loved. When I said, “Wait, you made this?” he responded with, “Yeah, all the time!” Erm, ok. We didn’t unpack that further.

After I approve the edits and make sure nothing has been changed that I didn’t authorize, I paste the final version back into Notes and archive it in my “Substack” folder.

Then I source images. Sometimes they’re mine. Sometimes they come from Pinterest. I choose whatever best fits the piece. I spend very little time overthinking this part of the process, including formatting, though it’s something I’d like to put more intention into over time.

Once that’s done, I grab my iPad, open Substack on desktop, and paste the final draft in. I use desktop because unless I am wildly mistaken, you can’t add subtitles on the mobile app. If I am wrong, someone please tell me and spare me this ritual. But until then, desktop it is.

Once the text and images are in place, I publish.

I know this sounds like a lot of steps. It probably is. But my brain has never allowed me to do things the simple way. It prefers systems, loops, backups, and unnecessary safeguards. Somewhere between ADHD logic and learned caution, this is the structured chaos that keeps me writing.

I’m curious about other people’s writing process. Where you start, whether you write straight into the platform or move drafts around, and whether you’re meticulous or fussy about your final draft or more carefree. Feel free to share in the comments!

You ask a lot from us.

New year. New goals. New routines. Big plans. Fresh starts. No excuses. Apparently we’re supposed to wake up on January 1st motivated and emotionally prepared to reinvent our lives…

Meanwhile, you’re dark by five. Cold. Gray. Everyone’s tired. The holidays just happened. Our 2026 planners are empty but our brains are scattered (at least mine). And yet, this is the moment we’re told to show up with discipline, clarity, and momentum despite the fact that you don’t exactly make any of that easy.

I think what actually happens in January often feels like the opposite of the fresh start we expect. We slow down. Plans that sounded exciting in October suddenly feel…negotiable. The excitement and big promises we attach to “new year, new me” starts to fade pretty quickly.

So maybe we ease up a little. Fewer declarations. Fewer promises. More patience. More grace for the fact that we’re human (and it’s the dead of winter!)

You can keep your big energy resolutions, January. We’ll revisit them when the weather is more charitable. Until then, I’ll be inside. Cooking. Reading. Resting.

Respectfully,

Someone doing their best ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

By the time we reached Aguas Calientes, Machu Picchu had been hovering over the entire trip. We’d already been through Lima, spent time in the Amazon, and moved through the Sacred Valley, but this part was the grand finale. Fun fact: I went to Machu Picchu in my early twenties. I only bring it up because I end up pointing out a few things that were different this time around.

A Quick History

Machu Picchu was built in the mid-1400s during the height of the Inca Empire and is thought to have been a royal estate or ceremonial site. It was abandoned about a century later and stayed mostly out of sight until the early 1900s. Even now, there’s still a lot historians don’t fully agree on. How it was used. Why it was built there. Why it was vacated so suddenly… all of these mysteries only add to the wonder.

Moving Through Machu Picchu

We split our visit into two days (which I’m really glad we did). Access to the site is more tightly regulated than it was ten years ago. While there’s always been set entry times, the designated walking paths seemed more structured and they’ve implemented a rough four-hour time limit once you’re inside the site. Breaking it up gave us space to actually absorb what we were seeing versus rushing through it in one day.

The first day we did the upper circuit. This route keeps you on the perimeter of the site looking down over it instead of moving through it. These are the iconic views most people recognize. From above, you start to see how the whole place fits together and how carefully it was built into the mountain. The terraces, the buildings, the paths. It all makes more sense when you can step back and see it as a whole.

We had a local guide, Wagner, which helped a lot (something I didn’t do the first time and missed out on SO MUCH knowledge and nuance). He explained what’s known, but he was just as upfront about what isn’t. Instead of presenting everything like settled fact, he talked through the various theories, disagreements, and mysteries that still surround the ruins.

The second day we did the lower circuit which lets you walk through the ruins themselves. Compared to years ago, there are more roped-off areas and clearer paths that guide where you can and cannot go. Still, being inside changes everything. You’re not thinking about Machu Picchu as this big, nebulous concept anymore - you’re standing in actual spaces and starting to understand how people used them day to day.

This is where it starts to feel more real and you find yourself thinking about the practical details. Where people slept. Where they gathered. How they stayed warm. One detail that stuck with me was how the residents managed such a small population (< 1000). Wagner explained that adolescent males were sometimes sent to other settlements and boys from those communities would be sent back in return. It helped prevent inbreeding, promote trade, and kept relationships strong between groups. It’s a simple idea, but it really highlights how thoughtful and forward-thinking the Inca were.

By the end of the second day, we’d spent hours walking, stopping, listening, and asking questions. We had lunch just outside the entrance afterward and honestly just sat there for a bit and let the gravity of the world wonder settle in.

Before we left, Wagner mentioned that there are real conversations happening about limiting access to Machu Picchu even further down the line. That could mean eventually closing off the interior and only allowing people to view it from above. I don’t know if or when that would happen but it doesn’t feel far-fetched. You can already see how preservation is changing things, and it’s hard not to think about how much tighter that balance between access and protection might become.

Something to Think About

If Machu Picchu is on your list, go knowing that access is changing and that the way you experience it now may not always be possible. It’s something I took for granted the first time I went, and I’m grateful I had the chance to return with more perspective and appreciation while it’s still accessible in this way.

Back with the third part of our Peruvian adventure. Let’s get into it!

After the Amazon, we flew to Cusco, grabbed our bags, and immediately boarded a small bus that would take the six of us into the Sacred Valley. The Sacred Valley stretches between Cusco and Machu Picchu and is known for its terraced hillsides, farming communities, and the Urubamba River that runs through it. Watching the lights of Cusco disappear felt exciting because we were heading into the next part of the trip, but also bittersweet knowing we’d be back in a week to wrap up our journey.

After about a 1.5 hour bus ride through the mountains, we arrived at our hotel for the next two nights. I personally chose this small boutique resort for two reasons. First, the photos and descriptions online were breathtaking. Second, the spa had an amazing reputation. We only planned to stay two nights here, partly to break up the long journey from Cusco to Machu Picchu and partly to give ourselves time to acclimate slowly (we were also taking altitude sickness medication just to be safe). When we arrived at Sol y Luna, we were greeted by María, shown around the grounds, and escorted to our villas. And for what it’s worth, the place lived up to everything we’d seen online!

After a good night’s sleep and room service breakfast, everyone in the group except me headed off on an organized tour to explore local sites and the town of Ollantaytambo, a historic town in the Sacred Valley that also serves as a major train station for travelers heading to Machu Picchu. I opted to stay back and use the alone time to recuperate in the sauna, pool, and with a massage - a decision I was genuinely happy I made. I got picture updates throughout the day from my husband (btw I don’t think I’ve ever shared his name. I usually just say “my husband,” but his name is Michael). He kept me in the loop with photos, videos, and short notes from their day. Everyone returned that evening, cleaned up, and we had dinner together on-site.

The following morning after a group breakfast, we checked out and headed to the train station in Ollantaytambo. After a bit of chaos, we managed to board our train and were officially on our way to Aguas Calientes, the town that sits just below Machu Picchu and serves as the main touchpoint for visitors heading up to the site. A quick note about the train. The ride took about 1.5 hour, and there was no air conditioning in our car. Honestly, I didn’t mind. Coming from the hot, humid jungle, I was already used to the warmth (though I can’t speak for everyone else in the group, hehe).

When we arrived at the station, we grabbed our bags and walked to our hotel, Sumaq. Speaking of bags, we were told there was a strict baggage limit for the train. One handbag per person, no more than 11 pounds. We took this seriously, only to discover most people did not. All good though. We planned ahead and packed only essentials for Machu Picchu while the rest of our luggage was sent to our hotel in Cusco where we’d be reunited with it a few days later. Once we checked in, we got cleaned up and headed into town. I was surprised by how bustling it was. Vibrant bars, restaurants, shops, and markets everywhere. There was no shortage of things to do or see in Aguas Calientes. Some people split off, some returned to the hotel, others stayed together. What I loved most about this group trip was how naturally all six of us flowed. No pressure, no forced plans. Simple.

That evening ended with another group dinner, wine flowing (per usual), and conversations centered on one thing. Tomorrow. Machu Picchu.

I originally planned to wrap up this South American series in this article, but as I’m recounting everything I’m realizing I want to parse it out more. Partly to keep these articles a manageable length, partly because I don’t want to sacrifice detail, and honestly, because I’m having fun writing. I promise I’m not trying to drag it out or build suspense. I’m just happy to be here. And I’m happy you are too. Stay tuned!

Arrival in Lima

After wrapping up a week in Mendoza wine country, my husband and I flew to Lima to meet up with the other two couples and officially begin the Peru portion of the trip.

Lima was the logistical hub where everyone flew in and out of. We stayed in Miraflores, a walkable, trendy neighborhood full of cafés, markets, restaurants, and coastal paths. It was the ideal place to regroup before moving on.

One afternoon we took a cooking class, which ended up being a major highlight. We made pisco sours, ceviche, and causa, a traditional Peruvian dish. It was laid back and social without feeling like a formal lesson. Food naturally became the center of those first couple of days and wine followed closely behind.

Both nights turned into long dinners with no real plan beyond talking and working out a few last-minute details for the rest of the trip ahead. By the second day, the group dynamic felt easy. Everyone had settled into the pace without forcing it.

The Amazon

After Lima, we flew east to Puerto Maldonado to start the jungle portion of the trip.

Puerto Maldonado sits in southeastern Peru near the borders of Brazil and Bolivia. It’s a small interior town that functions mainly as a gateway into the Amazon.

We were picked up at the airport by our guide, Luis, and driven about 30 minutes to the river. From there, we boarded a long wooden motorized canoe and traveled for about an hour down the Tambopata River. That river feeds into the Madre de Dios River, which eventually connects into the larger Amazon system. Once you leave town, roads disappear and the river becomes the main way people get around.

We arrived at our eco lodge and home for the next four days, Posada Amazonas. The lodge is rustic but comfortable. There is electricity and Wi-Fi (which surprised us) but everything still felt deeply connected to the surrounding rainforest. Each room opens directly to the jungle on one side, with mosquito netting around the bed. It felt very authentic, like we were truly sleeping in the jungle rather than just observing it.

Our days were spent hiking through the rainforest, spotting wildlife, and learning how to identify animals by sound before seeing them. We learned about medicinal plants and how local communities have relied on the forest for generations. We took river cruises at sunset and spent a lot of time simply walking, listening, and observing.

Every night followed the same routine: there’s a set dinner time for everyone staying at the lodge, served in a large covered open-air dining hall surrounded by the rainforest. Each group has its own table, and over our time there, dinners became a familiar anchor. Sitting down together, eating incredible food prepared by local staff, drinking Peruvian wine, and talking through everything we’d done that day.

By the time we left the jungle, I felt a deep appreciation for the local culture, community, and especially our guide, Luis. Looking back, that portion of the trip felt the most meaningful to me. There was a shared camaraderie among our group, and we left with a deep appreciation for being welcomed into that world, even briefly.

This feels like the right place to pause. Next came the Sacred Valley, Machu Picchu, and Cusco, which deserves its own chapter. Stay tuned. ❤️

My husband and I, along with two other couples, planned an epic group trip to Peru. The kind that takes months of coordination, endless messages, and a lot of anticipation.

While booking flights, we realized that since we were already in South America, there was an opportunity to add something personal to the trip. Wine and vineyards are something we both love, so building in a stop just for us felt right.

That’s how Mendoza came into the picture.

Why Wine, Why Mendoza

I moved to Washington, D.C. in my early twenties and that’s where this really began. I met a group of friends and almost every weekend we’d drive out to Virginia wine country. That’s where my appreciation for wine and the connections around it grew. Since then, that same group still gets together about once a month to visit different wineries. When I met my husband seven years ago, we realized we shared that same appreciation, not just for wine itself but for the process and the conversations you end up having with owners and winemakers.

So when we talked about adding something personal to this trip, Mendoza felt like a natural choice.

The Calm Before the Rest of the Trip

Our days in Mendoza were simple. There was no agenda beyond deciding where to eat and which winery to visit. It felt like the calm before the storm, especially knowing we were heading into a busy group itinerary right after.

We stayed at The Vines Resort and Spa in the Uco Valley, which is consistently ranked as one of the top resorts in South America. It earns that reputation. The villas sit right in the vineyards with the Andes steps away. The service is thoughtful, the food is excellent, and the entire place has a way of making you feel at home.

What I didn’t fully understand before arriving is that the resort sits inside an active winemakers’ village. Wine is produced on site, but it operates as a collective. Individual owners have their own vineyard plots and share a centralized winemaking facility and team. Some are hands-on during harvest, others stay involved remotely, but everything from growing to production happens within the same community. It gives the place a working, lived-in feel rather than feeling built only for visitors.

The Vines also handles winery visits if you want them to. Drivers, reservations, timing. It keeps the days easy.

Big Estates, Small Producers

We spent our days moving between wineries and the contrast was part of what made it interesting.

Salentein was one of our favorite stops. It’s one of the original wineries in the Uco Valley and helped put the region on the map. Founded in the late 1990s by a Dutch family, the property feels firmly established. The scale of the estate and the design of the winery stand out, and the wines reflect that level of care.

Corazón del Sol was the opposite in the best way. Smaller and more personal, it’s planted on a single estate in Los Chacayes with limited production and a very hands-on approach. It was founded by Dr. Madiah Revana, a surgeon and winemaker from the United States who also owns vineyards in Napa and Oregon, which added an interesting layer considering we’re from the U.S.

We also visited Domaine Bousquet, known for its organic vineyards and French-Argentinian roots. La Azul leaned more restaurant than winery, but the wine list was deep and heavily focused in local bottles. Many of the servers were also sommeliers, which added to the experience.

While I was paying attention during the vineyard tours, I was also tasting a lot. So instead of getting into the technical side of winemaking, I’ll keep it simple: Malbec here is rich, balanced, and very easy to keep ordering.

Why This Worked for Us

By the time we joined the rest of the group in Peru, we were arriving from a very different place, both literally and figuratively. We arrived already in travel mode instead of still recovering from long international flights. That week in Mendoza set the tone for everything that followed.

It also changed how I think about group trips. If I’m already committing to a long-haul trip with a group, I’ll always look at what makes sense to add on either side. Not to pack things in, but to create a chapter that feels personal.

For us, that chapter was Mendoza. A week centered on wine, good meals, and no real agenda.

Next up, Peru. Stay tuned!