The Luxury of Travel

Working in travel has been one of the greatest joys of my life. The ability to connect people with the places they’ve always imagined, turning bucket lists into real moments, and bringing long-held dreams to life is a blessing, no doubt. But I’ve come to realize that sometimes we forget the point of it all.

I’ve been fortunate to send people to nearly every corner of the world. And yet, in the industry I love, it’s all too easy for the essence of travel to get lost. We celebrate perks and upgrades, curate the most enviable photo ops, and sometimes reduce travel to an endless comparison of who experienced it better. Somewhere along the way, the privilege of true discovery gets overshadowed by the pursuit of appearances.

I’m not immune to it either. In my three years as a travel advisor, I’ll admit that I, too, have lost sight of the purpose at times. When you’re treated to the finest hotels, upgraded to the best suites, and dining at the trendiest restaurants, it’s easy to let the industry define “luxury” for you. But when I first stepped into this work, it wasn’t about five-star lobbies or Instagram-worthy views. It was about connection and helping people not just to add stamps to their passports, but broaden their perspectives.

That clarity came back to me recently in the north of Spain, where I set out alone to walk a section of the Camino del Norte. At first, my intention was simple: space for myself. I wanted to breathe outside the confines of routine, to challenge my body in a way daily life rarely requires, and to immerse myself in a culture that I have always loved. But what I didn’t expect was to rediscover not only the reason I love travel, but the very meaning of it altogether.

For seven days, my life was simplified into walking, eating, resting, and walking again. Each morning I set out with only what I could carry on my back, a few essentials that reminded me just how little we really need. I averaged 15 miles a day through fishing villages, climbing past farmhouses, and tracing cliffs that clung to the coastline. These were not the places you’d find on standard itineraries or Instagram feeds. They were quiet and ordinary, but unforgettable.

Along the way, I crossed paths with people from all walks of life: An entrepreneur from India who showed me the privilege of simply being alive and part of a greater story. A filmmaker from Dubai who taught me that creativity should never be silenced, no matter what others might think. A couple from Colorado celebrating 50 years of marriage, who told me that life is hard, but it’s always better when you choose to walk through it together. A teacher from Belgium who reminded me to believe in myself even when every voice inside might tell me not to. A group of friends from Italy who showed me that life is infinitely more joyful when shared with the people you love. And many more.

We walked together at times, shared meals along the way, and traded stories that seemed to unfold with surprising intimacy after the fatigue of the day. It struck me that the Camino strips us down to our most human selves. When you’re tired, sore, and carrying your life on your back, there’s no room for pretense. And in that honesty, connections form quickly and effortlessly.

Their stories shifted my perspective in ways no luxury suite ever could.

But perhaps the most profound connection was with myself. There is something about the rhythm of walking one foot in front of the other, that quiets the noise of the mind. The constant chatter of responsibilities and expectations began to fade. Somewhere along the way, I uncovered a version of myself I had nearly forgotten. The strong, independent woman who could rely on her own two feet, who could climb mountains in solitude, who didn’t need anyone else to validate her strength. She had always been there; she just needed the space and silence of the trail to bring it to the surface.

Sometimes the greatest reminders come not in grandeur, but in scale. Walking miles across the quiet countryside made me realize how much bigger the world is outside of myself. Big enough to bring together people who, on paper, have nothing in common, yet find connection in the shared act of moving forward. Travel teaches us that we are both infinitesimal and infinite - that our lives are just a blip in the universe, yet we still have the power to carry meaning that resonates in those we meet. And sometimes we need to feel small to recognize the beauty of our own existence.

On that trail, I pushed my body further than I thought it could go. My legs ached with every incline, my back tensed under the weight of my pack, and there were moments when I doubted whether I had the strength to keep going. But then the views would appear, and with them, the reminder of why I started in the first place.

By the end of the week, I knew something with certainty: I can carry my own weight in this world.

And when I finally returned to New York City, the rush of modern life felt almost overwhelming. I was unsettled, not because I didn’t belong there, but because I wasn’t the same person I was when I left. And for that, I am grateful. That’s the quiet beauty of life-changing travel: it gently invites us to release old versions of ourselves, to love them for the role they played, and to step forward as someone new.

I find myself grateful for the experience, for the beauty of the moments I now miss and for the lessons they left behind. The Camino reminded me that the point is not to cling to how it felt in the moment, but to carry what it taught me into each day ahead, letting its wisdom shape the way I continue to live, love, and see the world.

What a privilege it is to ache for a place that makes you feel so deeply. That is the real purpose of travel. That is the true luxury.

I never want to lose touch with this kind of travel again. The kind that strips away performance and perfection, and instead asks us to open our minds, to lean into the world, and to rediscover who we are. It’s not always about the best hotels or the most exclusive experiences. It’s about getting lost in a place, a culture, a moment, and finding yourself along the way.

When I first entered this industry, the goal was to connect people with the world. But now even more, it’s about connecting them back to themselves.

We talk often about “luxury travel,” but I’ve now come to understand it differently. The real luxury is not a suite upgrade or a Michelin-starred meal. It is the time and freedom to chase the life you want and the courage to broaden your horizons, push yourself outside of comfort, and to feel deeply connected to the people and places you encounter.

The luxury of travel is not measured in stars or amenities, but in its power to change us from within. To remind us of our capacity for compassion, our ability to feel joy, and our privilege to wake up every day with the choice to go out into the world and live.

That is the luxury of travel.