The truth is, I’ve been deep in the weeds of the summer travel frenzy, and then I took a holiday of my own - my first proper summer holiday in ages as someone who loathes crowds and prefers to travel squarely off season. Anyhow, here I am, coming up for air, and I’m excited to be back.

I spent yesterday sorting an overstuffed box labeled ‘MAPS AND TRAVEL EPHEMERA.’ Anything sentimental — paper maps from road trips with my dad, ticket stubs from memorable museum visits — went in the ‘keep’ pile. Tossed: four paper maps of Rome of indeterminate origin, a cache of business cards, and recommendations scrawled on napkins and receipts. It got me thinking about how differently we used to travel, before this age of too much information and too many recommendations to fit into one lifetime.

One rule made the leap from those word-of-mouth days to today: don’t visit Europe in August. Too hot, no aircon, empty cities, too crowded at the beach, businesses closed for holidays. Etc.

On top of that, a pattern has emerged: part logistical necessity and part misinformation. Most summer travel requests I get are for June — immediately after school lets out — ostensibly to beat the crowds and the heat. Others with more flexible schedules hold out for September, "after the crowds die down." The result? June is hands down the busiest and most expensive month for summer travel, with September close behind. July lands somewhere in the middle. But August? No one wants to go, for all the reasons above.

And that, my friends, is how a new shoulder season was born.

I was willing to put my money where my mouth is, and as such I’ve just returned from Venice and Sardinia. Here’s what I learned.

1. August is a relatively affordable month as far as European hotel rates are concerned. Generally speaking, rates are lower than May, June, July, September & October. I’ve even seen higher rates in April than August.

2. Venice was hot. Really hot and, at times, witheringly humid. It was also blissfully uncrowded. I willingly walked over the Rialto Bridge for the first time in years. I strolled ‘Per San Marco’ without feeling like the middle of a sweaty tourist sandwich. I could decide on the day where I wanted to have dinner and make same-day reservations. Visit one of Venice’s many superb, oft-overlooked museums or the Biennale on a whim, no advance ticket purchase required. Try that in June (or September).

2. In order to beat the heat, book a hotel with a pool. Sightsee in the morning. Eat, drink, read, nap in the hot afternoons. Or, better yet:

3. Book a hotel with a pool that's also on the beach. We stayed at the recently renovated, brilliantly retro Excelsior Venice Lido Resort. They offer a complimentary shuttle service (by boat, of course) to & from Venice proper every half hour. Total travel time each way is about 15 minutes. It was a blast going “into town” for dinner, opting for an 8pm boat that had us cruising into Venice during golden hour.

They also have the aforementioned pool or you can rent a beach cabana for the day. Chic!

Further south, Sardinia is currently trending, and with the launch of Delta's nonstop JFK-to-Olbia route I feel like we've just scratched the surface. Until now I've only booked northern Sardinia, where 99% of the five-star hotels off which I earn a living are located. Indeed, there are some world-class gems here, don't get me wrong, but our story takes us to southern Sardinia, which is served by an entirely different airport (Cagliari) and a full 4-hour driving time from the north. (Sardinia is the Mediterranean's second-largest island after Sicily.)

I had yet to find a travel advisor within my network who had actually been to Forte Village Resort, so when friends invited us to tag along on their summer holiday it was a no-brainer. A quick AI overview pulled up on Google describes the resort as “a sprawling mega-resort that is intensely family-focused”; I, on the other hand, tend to gravitate towards boutique hotels and do not have children and yet: Forte Village was one of the biggest travel surprises of my life. I freakin’ LOVED it, as did my husband. Here are just a few reasons why:

1. The food was solid-to-excellent by any standard. Breakfast and dinner are included in your rate. Both were served buffet-style with an overabundance of options, including heaps of fresh produce. Dinners have a different theme each night (think 'Northern Italy', 'BBQ' etc), so you're not stuck eating the exact same thing over & over. On top of this, there are additional restaurants that you can opt to dine at by making a reservation and paying as you would any other restaurant, and of course you add this to your room and settle upon checkout.

2. The resort wasn't nearly as labyrinthine as described online. They do have golf cart service, but we never used it and instead walked everywhere. Maximum walking time: 15-20 minutes. Beach cruiser-type bicycles are another option.

3. Forte Village Resort is fun. Fun for kids, fun for teens (I should note that my friends' four kids ranged in age from five to fifteen), fun for adults. Just good old-fashioned FUN. It's also safe, so the older kids could run off with their friends until all hours. My husband delighted in each evening's 6pm pickup game of soccer/football. I enjoyed a cocktail at the Tiki Bar that was served in a pink ceramic flamingo, and you can visit real flamingos at the resort Nature Park, which houses an impressive aviary, farm, and zipline course - just to name a few highlights.

4. There’s also some (entirely optional) culture! On arrival night we were thrilled to learn that global ballet icon Roberto Bolle would be headlining a program at the open-air Forte Village Arena. Other summer highlights have included Sting and Andrea Bocelli.

I don’t think anyone would describe Forte Village as “cool” in the traditional sense. But in a social media-saturated world where being (or trying to be perceived as) “cool” is an actual, literal full-time job, perhaps the simple act of having fun is the new cool. Indeed, the Financial Times published an excellent article this weekend titled Why play is at the core of a meaningful life.

We plan to return to Forte Village next summer for a longer stay. See you there?

It took traveling from New York to Mayakoba, Mexico, to find my favorite place to stay in Rome. Or rather, Rhinoceros Roma found me. I was attending an industry trade show, riding to the meeting rooms and chatting with my friend Angelo about an upcoming visit to Rome. A man seated behind us waited until we stepped off the cart, then introduced himself. “Stay with us the next time you’re in Rome,” he told me with a quiet confidence. A beautiful collaboration, and might I add a friendship, was born.

That was my introduction to Rhinoceros Roma, and I’ve barely stayed anywhere else in the city since. The only exceptions are when I’m scouting and researching properties for clients. But when I’m in Rome for myself, or when I’m bringing family and friends, it’s Rhinoceros.

My husband, a New York-based artist with a Parsons School of Design pedigree, naturally loves Rhinoceros Roma. My dad, a former hippie backpacker based in Queensland, Australia, also adores Rhino. The point? Two drastically different dudes both think these design-forward apartments are fab. As do I. My dad’s unsolicited review? “Hidden gem perfect for travelers wanting an eat-in option. The weekend farmers market short walk away is a great source. Rooms are luxe. Staff are professional and very helpful.”

What It Actually Is

Rhinoceros Roma is located in a 17th-century palazzo in Velabro, the heart of what was once Imperial Rome a stones throw from the most underrated museum in Rome (The Capitoline), the Forum and the Circus Maximus. The entrance sits right next to the Arch of Janus, this massive 4th-century structure that most people walk past without a second glance. Historians can't even agree on what it was—triumphal arch? City gate? Cattle shelter? The uncertainty feels appropriate for a building that doesn't fit neat categories.

Alda Fendi transformed the palazzo into something that doesn't quite fit any category. It's home to her contemporary arts foundation, Fondazione Alda Fendi Esperimenti, along with 24 self-catering apartments and a rooftop bar and restaurant. Exhibition spaces are distributed across all six floors, including the air shafts, which can host visual and sound installations. You’re not staying near an art gallery - you’re living in one.

Jean Nouvel handled the restoration, which means every historical layer of the building has been meticulously revealed and then set against contemporary interventions, mostly in the form of stainless steel volumes that serve as kitchenettes, bathrooms, and wardrooms.

The result is this extraordinary tension between past and present. Flaking plasterwork sits intentionally next to polished steel. Original brickwork and worn decorative floor tiles have been preserved in their weathered state, while floor-to-ceiling panels in some rooms show what the spaces looked like before the renovation. It’s industrial and lyrical at the same time, spare but never cold.

Some apartments lean more modern, others have vintage flourishes. Apartment 24 has space for an extra bed; this is where I stay when I visit with my dad. Apartment 7 is another favorite. My husband and I love this one, it gives TriBeCa loft vibes. In my personal favorite - Apartment 8 - quirky 1960s tiles have been retained, giving off serious Prada print mix energy.

The Daily Rhythm

Every morning, your fridge gets restocked: milk, eggs, yogurt, fruit, sliced meats, fresh orange juice with a juicer. A bakery basket arrives at your door. Full housekeeping and turndown service comes daily. There’s laundry service, too, and I swear my clothes came back in better condition than when they were new.

And while I am very much an analog girl their WhatsApp service really shines. (Note that they do also have in-room telephones.)I’ve never waited more than 60 seconds for a response. No ask is too big or too small. Restaurant reservation? Done. Need a car? Handled. Want a recommendation for the best Cacio e Pepe within walking distance? They’ll send you three options with notes on why each one is good. Each time I step out or return “home” I’m asked about my day and given tips for the following day: a weather forecast, something going on in the neighborhood, a head’s up about a half marathon and possible road closures.

The Location

Rhinoceros is hiding in plain sight, tucked behind the Capitoline Museums in a quiet residential pocket that most tourists walk past without noticing. I like to say that it’s hidden in plain sight. You’re 12 minutes on foot to Trastevere, close to Campo de’ Fiori, and near the Jewish Ghetto. It’s the kind of location that rewards people who like to walk.

On Saturday and Sunday mornings, there’s a farmers market about 3 minutes walk from the property: Mercato di Campagna Amica del Circo Massimo. Shout out to my dad who discovered it on his first stay. Inside are all the trappings of what folks dream about when they think “Italy”: fresh balls of buratta, cheeses and meats more generally, produce galore, gorgeous flowers… and out back there are park benches food trucks serving everything from pasta to porcetta, plus local wine and beer. It’s where Romans actually shop, which tells you everything you need to know.

Not for Everyone

This is not a full-service hotel. There’s no gym, no spa, no 24-hour room service with silver cloches. If you’re staying one or two nights and want someone to unpack your suitcase and press your suit, you’re going to be disappointed.

If you want to be in Trastevere rather than a 12-minute walk from it, book something else, though to be clear you couldn’t pay me to try to sleep in Trastevere. That would be akin to booking a hotel in the East Village or Lower East Side. Rowdy. If the idea of pressing a button on the Nespresso machine to make your own coffee in the morning sounds like a vacation failure, Rhinoceros will frustrate you.

Who Will Hate It

People staying just one or two nights won’t get to appreciate the way you settle into a Roman way of life during a longer stay. Gym rats will be disappointed, as will those who are married to the idea of a double basin bathroom, something that seems to be uniquely American which I have never personally understood. Travelers who resent the implication that they should make their own Nespresso in the morning.

If I’m being really picky, the design-forward bathroom fixtures can be a bit stubborn until you get used to them and I swear each time I return I need another lesson on how to navigate the touch screen temperature- and lighting- control panel. Fortunately the staff is exceedingly patient with my ineptitude at navigating this tech touch. Like I’ve said, I’m an analog gal.

Who Will Love It

City dwellers, or anyone who find traditional hotels suffocating. Parties of three or more; the apartment status means that they have wiggle room when it comes to strict Italian laws regarding hotel room capacity. Design lovers who appreciate interiors that don’t try too hard. People staying three nights or longer. Anyone who wants to experience Rome as the Romans do.

Rhinoceros works for families, too, especially older kids. There’s space to spread out, a kitchen to solve the “where are we eating breakfast” question, and enough independence that no one feels on top of each other.

The Details That Make It Special

The stocked fridge isn’t a gimmick; it’s genuinely useful. You wake up, make coffee, toast the bread from the bakery basket, and start your day without the choreography of getting everyone dressed and out the door for hotel breakfast.

The laundry service is the kind of thing you don’t realize you need until you use it. Everything came back folded like it had been styled for a photoshoot.

And the design—understated, specific, never generic. These aren’t apartments that could be anywhere. They’re Roman, but not in that overplayed terracotta-and-fountain-view way. They’re modern, quietly confident, and they trust you to appreciate the details without needing them explained.

Above all it’s the team that make it special. Simone and Ludovica, Alessandra and Giorgio and Monica and the genuine enthusiasm each of them has for Rome, and for making sure that you enjoy your stay.

The Practical Stuff

Rates start around €350 in the low season, closer to €550 during peak months. I know, it’s a proper steal, especially for being smack dab in the center of Rome!

If you’re traveling solo and want hotel energy, this isn’t it. If, like me, you’re traveling solo and just like the freedom that being in an apartment affords then it’s perfect. For couples, small groups, or families who value independence and space, Rhinoceros is hard to beat.

I found it on a golf cart in Mexico. You might find it here. Either way, Simone was right: once you stay, you’ll keep coming back.

Rhinoceros Roma has 25 apartments in Velabro, behind the Capitoline Museums. Rates start around €300 in low season and €500 during peak months. Book directly through their website or click here to get in touch.

When I started working in the travel industry I knew I needed to find mine. But I quickly decided one thing: it would not be Italy.

Italy felt too obvious. Too lazy. Everyone claimed to be an Italy specialist, and for good reason. It’s spectacular, beloved, sells itself. I’d studied there, worked there, traveled there extensively. But claiming it as a specialty felt presumptuous. Like something you earned through years of intentional exploration, not just proximity.

So I positioned myself differently: far-flung international destinations. Australia, naturally. Southeast Asia. Japan. Remote Pacific islands. Places where my more extensive firsthand experience felt genuinely valuable.

Then, just a few months after my career pivot the clock turned 2020, and all those far-flung plans evaporated overnight.

The Summer That Changed Everything

In June 2021, I was on a conference call when someone mentioned spots available for DUCO Italy, a prestigious industry trade show. Some advisors had dropped out, not yet ready to travel overseas (fair). I didn’t know what DUCO was or how selective it was. I just knew it was in Italy, and Italy was about to open to US travelers.

I sent an email expressing interest before the call even ended. A few weeks later, I was there.

DUCO Italy turned out to be extraordinary: an intimate gathering of hoteliers, designers, and travel professionals showcasing some of the country’s most compelling properties. But what happened after the official event changed my trajectory. I stayed. Italy was gloriously empty. Hotels that are now impossible to book had vacancies. In July.

General managers and sales teams had time on their hands, and it was a joy to take full advantage of the opportunity to get to know them. I booked one Italy trip and the referrals came for others. Italy chose me, and I am more than happy to oblige.

What “Italy Specialist” Actually Means

When I say I specialize in travel to Italy, here’s what I mean: I know which properties are worth the hype and which are coasting on reputation. I know the people who run these hotels personally, which means my clients aren’t just another booking. I know when to send someone to the Amalfi Coast and when Puglia or Sicily or the Aeolian Islands are going to be a better fit. I know which cities shine in shoulder season and which corners are worth braving the summer crowds. I even have favorite rooms within favorite hotels. That’s how hyper specific my knowledge has become.

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Three Italian Properties I Love (That Won’t Break the Bank)

Vocabolo Moscatelli, Umbria

If Tuscany is Italy’s greatest hits album, Umbria is the track that reveals itself after the third listen, then becomes your favorite. Vocabolo Moscatelli is a design-forward boutique hotel in a meticulously restored 12th-century monastery. I’ve stayed twice in three years and would go more often if time allowed. With just 12 rooms, I’d file this under “stay here now, before it becomes impossible to book.”

Owners Frederik Kubierschky and Catharina Lütjens left careers at some of Switzerland’s top hotels to build the place they’d been dreaming about. Every detail is considered: locally made ceramics in your bathroom, vegetables plucked from their garden that morning for dinner. The design walks a perfect line between monastic simplicity and mid-century warmth, with original stone walls and beamed ceilings anchored by beautiful furniture and textiles.

The restaurant attracts locals as well as guests. Dinner often stretches late as guests linger over wine, then migrate to the fire pit where Fred is inevitably holding court, glass in hand, genuinely delighted to be hosting. This is the Italy people imagine when they dream about slowing down.

They reopen for the 2026 season on April 1st with rates starting at €495 per night. Click to inquire

Masseria Montenapoleone, Puglia

Puglia has been “the next big thing” for about a decade, which means it’s neither undiscovered nor overrun. It’s in that sweet spot where infrastructure has caught up with interest but it still feels pleasantly off the beaten path. Masseria Montenapoleone is a converted 17th-century fortified farmhouse set on sprawling grounds near the Adriatic coast and popular spots like Ostuni and Alberobello. It’s run by husband-and-wife team Giuliano Monteneve and Alessandra Recchia.

Alessandra returned to her Puglian roots after a career in cinema, and you feel it the moment you arrive. This isn’t just a hotel; it’s a carefully composed scene. Ancient olive trees (some over a thousand years old) backlit by golden hour, whitewashed stone walls catching the light, a pool positioned for maximum drama against the countryside. The grounds call to mind a Pugliese Garden of Eden: flowering gardens, centuries old olive trees, vegetable plots supplying the kitchen.

The 19 rooms and suites are scattered throughout the main masseria and surrounding buildings, each one different. Some have fig trees growing through the floor, others have private terraces overlooking olive groves. The design is rustic but refined: exposed stone, vaulted ceilings, vintage finds mixed with modern comfort.

They’re open year-round with winter rates starting around €200 per night and summer rates at €300. For a property this special, with food this good and grounds this stunning, it’s exceptional value. Click to inquire

Singer Palace, Rome

Rome is almost impossible to get wrong, which makes it easy to get lazy. The same five recommendations regardless of who’s asking, the same itinerary template, the same assumptions about what people want. Singer Palace is what happens when someone decides Rome deserves more.

The building was originally the Roman headquarters of the Singer sewing machine company and is about as centrally located as it gets. It’s independently owned and managed by Michela Visocchi, a true labor of love that opened in 2018 after a significant renovation and restoration. The property retains (fun fact!) Rome’s first-ever elevator and a magnificent marble staircase that will ‘wow’ you upon arrival.

Winter rates start around €450 per night, climbing higher for suites and peak season. For this level of design and location in Rome, it’s competitive. Click to inquire

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If you’re planning an Italy trip, whether it’s your first or your fifteenth, I’d love to hear what you’re curious about. What corners are you curious about? What kind of experience are you chasing? Leave a comment and let me know. Interested in booking any of these brilliant hotels? You can reach me here.

x Rebecca

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“If you design a hotel for everybody, you design it for nobody.”

I looked up from the book. Around me, the resort hummed with Bensley’s signature excess: hand-carved Javanese antiques, patterned fabric walls, brass fixtures gleaming against dark wood. Through the tented walls, the Balinese jungle pressed in close, alive with sound. This place was a lot. And sitting there, I realized: that’s exactly why it works.

The Problem with “Best Of” Lists

The “World’s 50 Best Hotels.” “Top 26 Destinations for 2026.” And - don’t come at me, readers - ”Reader’s Choice Awards.” We reached peak absurdity earlier this month with the “World’s 50 Best Vineyards,” at least one would hope. I understand why they exist - they’re great for clicks, adverts and increasing bookings. But I increasingly believe they’re making travel bland, boring, and ultimately disappointing for the people who take them at face value.

Here’s what happens: Someone reads that a hotel made some prestigious list. They book it. They arrive with sky-high expectations shaped by superlatives and glossy photos. And then... they hate it, because it wasn’t the right hotel for them.

New York Magazine’s Intelligencer recently explored how these lists have become less about genuine discovery and more about consensus-building - a self-perpetuating cycle where the same properties appear year after year because they already appeared the year before. The “best” becomes a feedback loop.

And let’s be honest about what else is happening: flip through any “Best Of” magazine issue and notice how many of the top properties are also advertisers. It’s not a conspiracy - it’s just how publishing works. But it means that smaller, independent, family-owned properties without massive marketing budgets get buried. My personal favorite boutique hotel in Tuscany? You won’t find it on a list (and I’m gatekeeping this one for a future post).

Lists assume one-size-fits-all. They flatten the gloriously subjective experience of travel into a rankings game. They make people chase “best” instead of “right for me.”

So here’s what I’m doing instead.

Introducing: Not for Everyone

This is my new recurring series, and it’s the anti-list.

I’m profiling one hotel at a time - places that are hyper-specific, opinionated, sometimes polarizing. Hotels that aren’t trying to please everyone, and are all the better for it. I’ll be honest about who these places are not for, because that clarity is a gift. If you know a hotel isn’t right for you, you won’t waste your time or money. And if you know it is right for you? You’ve just found your new favorite place.

These won’t always be expensive properties (though some will be). They won’t always be remote or avant-garde (though some will be). What they’ll have in common is a clear point of view and the courage to alienate the wrong guests in service of delighting the right ones.

Let’s start with the place that inspired this whole series.

Capella Ubud: Not for Everyone

I visited Capella Ubud earlier this year, and I’ll admit something: going in I wasn’t sure if I would love it or hate it.

I’d seen photos and videos of course. Bensley’s signature maximalism was on full display and in pictures, it all just looked like too much. But in person? Capella Ubud was magical. From the moment I arrived I was transported not just to another hotel but to another world. It’s Bill Bensley’s world, and we’re just lucky to spend a night in it.

The Setting

The property is built into a steep, lush jungle valley in Ubud’s Keliki region. Your “room” is actually a luxury tented camp - canvas structures on raised platforms, connected by winding jungle paths, some accessible by suspended rope bridges that sway slightly as you cross them.

That rope bridge? It made me feel like a kid again. Like I was on an adventure, not just checking into a hotel. The whole property leans into this explorer fantasy: you’re glamping in the jungle, surrounded by the sounds of cicadas and frogs and birds, sleeping in a tent that happens to have high speed wifi (no TVs though), a private deck and saltwater pool, indoor and outdoor showers and one of my favorite touches: a refreshment trunk. Move over minibar.

Who This Is NOT For

Let me be clear about who will hate Capella Ubud:

Anyone who wants easy accessibility. There are steps. Lots of steps. The terrain is steep and uneven. You’re walking through actual jungle to get to your tent. If mobility is a concern, this isn’t your place. (I do plan to feature places that are accessible in future N4E posts.)

Anyone who freaks out about critters. This is not a hermetically sealed resort experience. You are indeed in the jungle. There was a tiny frog in my tent, whom a kind groundskeeper patiently searched for and removed. There are jungle sounds at night. In the morning I found a massive and admittedly awe-inspiring spiderweb near the outdoor shower. The dew and mist of the morning had settled and the rising sun made the web sparkle.

Families with young children, perhaps. While Capella Ubud technically allows children, they actively discourage families with kids under six. The suspended bridges, steep paths, and lack of kid-specific facilities make it better suited for older children and teens who can appreciate the adventure. This is not a place for toddlers.

Anyone allergic to pattern and color. If you’re a beige-and-white minimalist, Bensley’s exuberant design will overwhelm you. There are textiles everywhere. Carved masks. Statues. Prints layered on prints. Capella Ubud was built with a strict “minimal intervention” ethos meaning not a single tree was cut down during its construction. Indeed some tents were built around trees, so you may have a trunk (swathed in traditional Balinese check gingham ‘Poleng’, natch) rising up through your living area. It’s theatrical and unapologetically maximal.

Who This IS For

But if you’re the right person? This place will absolutely transport you.

It’s for adventurous travelers who want to feel like explorers. That rope bridge isn’t an inconvenience - it’s the whole point. You’re not just staying at a hotel; you’re inhabiting a world.

It’s for design lovers who appreciate craft and narrative. What looks excessive in photos feels richly layered in person. Every detail supports the story Bensley is telling. The attention to detail is insane - down to the vintage trunks and explorer’s maps in each tent and the ‘survival kit’ given to you at check in, complete with a property map that reads like a treasure map, branded bug repellant and sunscreen and a few band-aids. All of the necessities for life in the Capella Ubud jungle.

It’s for people who want genuine immersion without sacrificing luxury. Yes, you’re surrounded by nature. But you also have a private plunge pool, a ‘Capella Culturalist’ concierge/butler (mine had worked there since opening - always a good sign), and service that’s off-the-charts excellent. The food and beverage are also highlights, simply outstanding and of course, considered and in keeping with the theme of it all.

It’s for travelers who understand that “best” is subjective. Most people who stay here aren’t chasing a ranking, though for the sake of full disclosure Capella Ubud does appear on many “best of” lists. Instead, they’re chasing an experience that’s wildly specific and utterly unlike anywhere else.

I’ll be honest: when I saw those photos, I thought it looked a smidge wacky for my taste. But in person, none of it felt overwhelming - it felt sexy. Transportive. Isn’t that the whole point of travel? To be taken somewhere else, to inhabit a fantasy, to come back different?

What’s Next

This is just the beginning of the “Not for Everyone” series. I’ll be profiling properties that have a clear point of view - hotels that know exactly who they’re for and aren’t apologizing to anyone else.

If you have suggestions for hotels you think belong in this series - places that are polarizing, specific, uncompromising - I want to hear about them. Reply to this email or leave a comment below.

And if you’re the kind of traveler who’s tired of chasing “best” and ready to find what’s right for you? Welcome. You’re exactly who this is for.

x Rebecca

I’d been to Barcelona before, a few summers prior while traveling on a Eurail pass, as one did. The city that charms so many had the opposite effect on me - tourists everywhere, lines for everything, that particular chaos you expect in a popular European city in July. Naïve me was even pickpocketed on day one. Needless to say the city left a terrible impression.

But landing in late November 2002? The city was something completely different. Led by Nige and his cornucopia of international roommates and friends we traipsed through the city, bar- and museum- hopping on a whim, no reservations required. The whole city felt like it was breathing differently.

That trip was the start of my own Thanksgiving tradition: spending the holiday abroad.

Why This Week Works So Well

I’ve spent Thanksgiving in Australia of course but also Tokyo, Paris, Marseille, Amsterdam and Madrid. I travel with my husband and sometimes meet up with my Australia-based family as well. Not because I’m avoiding anything, but because I’m choosing something better. Here’s what I’ve learned.

• Lower prices
  It goes without saying that this is the busiest and one of the most expensive weeks of the year to travel domestically. But international? Hotel rates drop from summer and early fall highs. Airfares are downright reasonable. The entire travel ecosystem relaxes because the American tourist machine has temporarily slowed to a trickle.

• Fewer crowds
  While Americans are sitting in traffic or dealing with unpredictable weather delays and general airport chaos, you’re wine tasting in Burgundy or making new friends in San Sebastian over pintxos. If you’re a keen museum-goer (guilty), you’ll especially love European cities during this week. My husband and I once lingered in a practically empty Rijksmuseum until closing time. Now that is a memory that I will savor forever.

• The PTO math adds up
  This is literally (sadly) the one time of year most Americans get two consecutive days off work. You can take a full 10-day trip using just three vacation days. The math is simple and the payoff is huge - especially if you’re someone who hoards PTO days like I used to.

• Nowhere is unbearably cold or hot yet
  Late fall in the Northern Hemisphere means spring in the Southern. You’ve got options everywhere. Tuscany is misty and magical. Tokyo and southern Japan’s fall colors are on display. Paris can be chilly, but also moody and beautiful. Australia is heading into summer. The weather gods are on your side.

• Surprisingly good chance of upgrades on flights
  It’s not busy season for most international routes, and airlines haven’t yet gone fully into Christmas mode since Thanksgiving is a US-only holiday. My clients do seem to get more surprise upgrades during this week than any other time of year.

• Let’s face it: turkey is overrated
  It’s dry, it’s bland, it’s often pumped with hormones and other guck you wouldn’t want to feed to your least favorite person on earth. The best thing about Thanksgiving turkey is that it can be used as a receptacle for all of the yummy butter- and sodium- filled sides. (I’ll admit, I do love a heaping scoop of stuffing and mashed potatoes as much as the next gal.) Instead, give me a perfect Neapolitan pizza or fresh sashimi at Tsukiji Outer Market in Tokyo any day. That bistro in Paris you’ve been dying to try but could never get into? Suddenly, voilà: there’s a table.

The Big Shift I’m Seeing

I’ve been noticing a major uptick in clients traveling abroad during Thanksgiving week. It started in 2022 when you could once again travel almost anywhere in the world you desired. But now? I’m seeing entire extended families move the festivities overseas and take over an entire villa or buy-out property. This isn’t about ditching tradition - it’s about making new ones. And frankly, it’s about recognizing that “being together” matters more than where you’re doing it.

If You’re Thinking About It

Thanksgiving has never been my holiday, which made it easier to opt out of the American travel chaos early on. But I’ve watched enough clients make this shift to know it’s about recognizing an opportunity. It’s about creating something fresh and memorable instead of recreating something obligatory.

If you’re already thinking about next year, here are a few places I’m particularly excited about for Thanksgiving 2026:

• Tuscany and up-and-coming Umbria - Misty, uncrowded, truffle season in full swing. Umbria especially offers fewer tourists and better value with just as much medieval charm.

• Panama - Perfect post-rainy, pre-high season timing. Underrated food scene in Panama City, spectacular beaches, and warm water.

• Egypt - Late November means perfect weather for exploring ancient sites without the scorching heat or winter crowds, and 10 days is the perfect amount of time to see the highlights.

• Iceland for Northern Lights - Peak aurora season without December prices. Dark, dramatic, and cozy - exactly what Iceland should be.

• Ireland or Scotland - These places are made for moody, atmospheric late autumn travel. Cozy pubs with crackling fireplaces, empty countryside, dramatic landscapes.

If any of this sounds intriguing, float the idea at the Thanksgiving table this week. You might be surprised who’s ready for something different. Book the flight. Try it once. I’m willing to bet you’ll be doing it again the following year.

x Rebecca

The reality is that this late-stage Gen Xer was raised by hippie parents decades before Bourdain hit the mainstream. My earliest travel memories are of long flights across the Pacific to visit family, back and forth each year between Australia and California. I’d spend those endless hours staring out the window, trying to spot the occasional island or speck of land (spoiler alert: there aren’t many) but mostly wondering: how on earth does the Pacific keep going? I was hooked on travel. That, combined with my dad’s stories of his own overland round-the-world travel adventures planted something in me early: a bone-deep curiosity about the world and all the ways you could move through it.

These days I’m planning dream trips for clients — the kind with private drivers and Michelin reservations and hotels that might make you feel like you’re in a film by Luca Guadagnino. (Is it an accident that the newish Palazzo Talia in Rome is Guadagnino’s first interior design project?) Here’s the part where I should mention that I’m also a bit of an aesthete. In a former life I was a Manhattan-based pavement-pounding, globe-trotting fashion person. The demands and nuances of that world taught me how to curate, how to recognize quality, and how to understand what makes an experience truly exceptional.

But my own travel style? It’s always been messier, more spontaneous, more willing to take the local train instead of the chauffeured transfer. I’ve gotten spectacularly lost in Luang Prabang. I’ve eaten at sidewalk stalls where the only menu was whatever was simmering in the pot. I’ve also stayed at some of the most exclusive, beautiful hotels in the world and understand exactly why they command the rates that they do.

Off Piste is where I get to share both sides: the hotels worth the hype and the street stalls worth getting lost for. The itineraries I’d book for clients and the detours I’d take for myself. Consider this your invitation off the beaten path.

Let’s Go Off Piste

Off Piste isn’t about budget travel or anti-luxury. It’s about the uncommon.

Some of the topics I’m excited to tackle:

• Hotels & destinations that deserve your attention: from re-emerging icons to places doing luxury with actual soul, plus mid-range gems and all the places I genuinely adore

• Honest takes on what’s worth it and what’s merely marketing: when to splurge and when to save

• The shoulder season playbook: why traveling slightly off-peak might be the best decision you ever make, and where to go when

• Solo travel intel, tips and tricks: from someone who’s been traveling the world solo for nearly three decades

• Packing guides and where to shop: what to bring, what to leave behind, and where to find the good stuff once you arrive

• The destinations I love that need protecting: and how to visit thoughtfully

• My evolving city guides: the best spots in cities I return to again and again (Paris, Rome, Venice, Sydney, and beyond)

Off Piste isn’t about being contrarian for the sake of it. It’s about remembering why we travel in the first place: to be surprised, to connect (or disconnect), to see the world as it actually is.

Why Subscribe?

After being part of a structured corporate world in my previous career, I’m genuinely happy being a team of one for the time being, but this also means that I can’t say yes to every request that crosses my desk. Instagram has its limits, both in format and in what I can reasonably share. The reality is that my finds, my connections, and my hands on approach to travel planning are exactly what clients pay me for. I can’t give away the farm on a platform where everyone expects everything for free, and honestly, I don’t want to.

But I also don’t want to hoard what I know. Enter: Substack. Here I can share more intel than an Instagram story allows, the kind of detailed, opinionated takes that actually help you travel better. It’s the best of both worlds: I get to share more widely without undermining the work I do for the people who hire me.

I’ll be honest: I’m still figuring out the exact contours all of the juicy intel, things like trip itineraries, candid hotel reviews and the neighborhood finds I’d normally only share with private clients. If you believe professional travel advice is worth paying for I’d love to have you along for the ride. Free subscribers will still get valuable content, because making thoughtful travel accessible matters to me.

So if you’re ready to go off-script, to trust the detour, to find the places that don’t make it into every listicle—welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.

Let’s get lost together.

x Rebecca

PS: I’d love to hear what you’re curious about. What questions do you have about travel? What would make this Substack useful to you? Hit reply and let me know.