Travel doesn’t always change us through grand adventures. Sometimes it changes us in complete silence, with nothing more than a handful of rice and a heart willing to receive.

Before traveling to Bolivia, I thought I knew what I was looking forward to. Like many travelers, I had a list. The Uyuni Salt Flats. The Witches’ Market. The colorful lagoons. The flamingos. The endless mirror landscapes I had admired in photographs for years.

Some journeys test more than our legs. They test our trust. During our Kumano Kodo pilgrimage in Japan, our group of ten set out on the first day’s hike from Takijiri-oji to the small mountain village of Takahara.

High in the mountains of Nepal, we woke before dawn to make our way toward Poon Hill for sunrise.

As I was clearing out old papers in my office, I came across something I almost didn’t keep. A simple card. It was from a trip to New Zealand many years ago. At the end of that journey, the group handed it to me — a card filled with handwritten notes from each traveler.

Some journeys don’t end when we leave. They quietly continue walking beside us. In the autumn of 2024, I walked the first 28 temples of the Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage in Japan.

MAR 19, 2026 – APR 6, 2026

One feeling that often arises when I travel is a quiet sense of awe. Out of all the countries in the world, somehow I find myself in one very specific place, at one very specific moment in time. Sometimes it happens while walking a pilgrimage path like the Camino, the Shikoku. Sometimes it happens during something very simple — sharing a meal, walking to dinner with someone, or pausing in a small street somewhere far from home.

FEB 2, 2027 – FEB 20, 2027

MAR 14, 2027 – MAR 28, 2027

MAR 18, 2027 – APR 5, 2027