Highway 1 is the dark line on the map that differentiates the Pacific Ocean from the West Coast of the United States. This iconic roads moves with the contours of the coast, dipping and curving into gullies and mounting cliff edges. The two lane highway runs through expansive farmland, tall Redwood forests, and winding river valleys. Traveling along its path, you can’t help but hum Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land”.

We spent 15 days on Highway 1, cycling from Pacific City, Oregon to San Francisco, California. It was our first bike tour and we quickly fell into a routine over those two weeks of travel. Every morning we would wake up with the sun and look at the map to figure out where the closest coffee shop, bakery, or pancake house was. Using the promise of caffeine and carbs as our motivation, we would quickly pack up camp and get on our bikes. Once at the desired breakfast stop, we would charge phones, eat, and chat with locals who had lots of questions about our loaded bikes. We would get back on our bikes to ride another 10 -20 miles before stopping for a picnic lunch next to the scenic coastline. After another 10 miles, we would find a grocery store to buy dinner and then cycle the remaining miles to a state campsite, where we would pitch our tent, explore the area, reveal in a hot shower, and cook a simple dinner under the night sky. …

I’m one of these people who give 99% of myself to work, which translates to being incredibly efficient and organized in my professional life and a bit scattered in my personal life.

When traveling, this usually means looking up my online boarding pass while walking to security or trying to find the Air BnB address as we are hailing a cab at Arrivals. For years this scattered, take it minute by minute, traveling worked for us.

And then we had a baby. Trying to look up a confirmation number while holding a kid, juggling luggage, and figuring out where you are going in a busy airport is not a fun way to start your trip. So I took the same principles I use at work when planning travel and applied them to my personal life. It takes maybe 10 minutes to do and saves so much time and stress, especially if you aren’t sure of the internet situation at your final destination. …

I was lucky that my parents understood the value of travel. When I was 14 years old, my mom signed me up for an educational tour of Ireland and the United Kingdom. For weeks, I went to classes learning about British and Irish history, common foods and cultural norms in the two countries, and tips on how to travel overseas for the first time. The summer before high school, I boarded a plane with 40 other students and 4 chaperones and we flew to London.

For three weeks we stayed in hostels and homestays. We ate in pubs and carried picnic lunches to parks. We walked everywhere we could and traveled by bus or ferry in-between. We did some touristy things, like seeing the Crown Jewels in London and touring the castle in Edinburgh, but I remember most days being filled with small moments that taught me about the places we visited. Like walking the dog every night with my host family in Worcestershire. Playing billiards while listening to the local music and dialect in a small pub in Kerry. Or wandering the Welsh countryside along the sea and nodding to the farmers who drove past. …

Jacksonville Beach (and neighboring Neptune and Atlantic Beaches) have long stretches of white packed sand and deep blue waves. The sea oats sway in the breeze. Families, surfers, and sunbathers ride salt rusted bikes along the boardwalk, passing by old 1960s two-story hotels and small beach bungalows a few steps from the shore.

I’ve visited Jacksonville Beach several times: in the 90s when my older sister lived there for a minute, back in 2012 when my brother and sister-in-law were married in one of its historic hotels, and recently, when a close friend let us stay at her home to escape the cold and darkness of the Northeast winter. It was one of the happiest weeks of my life. …

Dublin is quickly becoming one of my favorite cities.

With over 1 million people, it has the strong arts, diversity, and food scene you would find in a major capital city. But it is compact and walkable, with a section of cobbled streets, a river running through its center, and a beautiful city park.

My husband is from Ireland, so every year we take the transatlantic flight to his family home in Dublin. We spend most of our time walking along the stone beach, hiking in the Wicklow mountains, or cooking meals with the family to enjoy on the patio if we can catch a break in the weather. …

There is nothing like watching the Blue Ridge Mountains come into view as you drive towards Asheville, North Carolina.

You come over a hill and there they are at the horizon, slowly rising out of the mist and defining themselves against the sky with their shadowy shade of blue. The mountains are covered in a rich green that turns to a sunset in the Fall and a sea of Rhododendron in the summer.

I spent every summer and winter holiday in the shadow of those mountains. My grandmother and her family were raised in Montreat, a small village east of Asheville, North Carolina. The Presbyterian church created the little mountain community for its returning missionaries over 100 years ago, setting up a conference center, hiking trails, and later a small college. My grandmother raised her five children in the old family home with creaking floorboards, a huge picture window, and the ever-present babble of the nearby creek. …

Granada is a city of color.

Its buildings are a rainbow of pastels that pop against the bright blue sky and rolling green hills that surround the town. The food, in the market and open-air cafes, is filled with vibrant hues; shiny red tomatoes, rich green avocados, and deep purple passion fruit with sunny yellow centers. Granada is a place that fills me with joy every time I think about it.

We spent two weeks traveling around Granada, Nicaragua for my 30th birthday. Our plans for trekking across the country were cut short when I caught my first-ever traveler’s stomach bug, either from eating a cheese-filled pastry that I bought out of the bus window or swimming in a waterfall (mistakes I would happily repeat again). …

Florence is a city of warmth.

The buildings are painted in tones of muted gold, soft yellow, and subtle orange, colors best seen in the reflection of the Ponte Vecchio on the Arno river at sunset. The people value hospitality and community, greeting you on the street, striking up a conversation in a cafe, or welcoming you into their home for a meal. The food is soft and rich and warm in your belly, like the first bites of a crunchy, creamy Sfogliatine pastry or a fork full of pappardelle pasta.

After years of studying Latin in high school, my parents thought it would be nice for us to put that classical education to use and visit Italy for our first big family vacation. We arrived in Rome, passports in hand and an Italian dictionary in our back pockets. We were overwhelmed, in a good way, with the fullness that Italy brings to life: the intensity of conversation between friends on the street, the striking contrast of colors between marble buildings and bright blue skies, the depth of history in everything you see. I loved our trip to Italy so much that I returned again to Florence as a college study abroad student years later. …