Well Elsewhere

I miss the road.

Right now I feel stuck — like my passport is itching but life keeps throwing curveball after curveball and the next trip keeps getting pushed back. I think about places I’ve loved and places I haven’t yet seen; I picture the small rituals of travel that steady me: the slow cup of coffee in a new town, the predictable disorientation that eventually turns into curiosity, the quietness of an unfamiliar morning that makes it easier to hear myself think.

There’s a particular heaviness to wanting to travel in 2026. I know a lot of people in the U.S. have reservations — not just about safety, but about perception. Will we be judged abroad because of our nationality? Will the political and social turbulence at home ripple into how we are received? On the ground, you hear a mix: fear of the unknown, a conservatism that makes people save and hunker down, and cautious conversations trying to figure out whether it’s wise to act like the world isn’t changing in real time. People are recalibrating risk and meaning all the time now.

And yet travel remains, for me, fundamentally good for the soul. It’s good for overall wellness. When we step out of the bubble of home, we gain context: the same small human dramas play out everywhere, but with different customs and priorities. Travel forces you to operate from the known and the observed rather than the rumination of the mind at home. It grounds perspective. It slows the relentless inner monologue by replacing it with sensory detail — different smells, different textures, different rhythms. For someone like me whose mind, body, and soul almost require movement and newness, being grounded in new places is a lifeline.

If you’re feeling anxious about traveling, here are some things that help me and many people I know:

• Choose low-density destinations. Fewer tourists, short lines, and quiet mornings do wonders for the nervous system. When crowds are down, the world feels kinder and gentler.
• Do small reconnaissance trips first. A two-night stay in a calm town is lower-stakes than a month-long itinerary and can rebuild confidence.
• Prepare practically to reduce uncertainty: research transport options, understand basic local norms, have a backup plan, and know where your embassy or consulate is.
• Limit news intake while you travel. You don’t need a minute-by-minute feed to enjoy a street or a meal.
• Travel with a trusted companion or join a small local guide for your first outings if it eases you.
• Practice grounding rituals: brief breathwork, a morning walk, or a simple body-scan to check in with how you’re actually feeling.

For me, places that are quieter — not swamped with tourists — have helped my nervous system reset: low crowds, short lines, a general quiet that makes it easier to return to basics. That groundedness is restorative. Right now, my go-tos are Norway, Finland, Switzerland, Barbados, Costa Rica, Japan, Thailand, and Vietnam. Each of these countries offers things that nourish wellness in different ways:

• Norway and Finland: vast nature, clean air, predictable public services, and a cultural pace that prioritizes calm and outdoor life (think forests, fjords, and sauna rituals). Excellent for mental decompression.
• Switzerland: stability, efficient transport, safe streets, and stunning alpine landscapes that make it easy to slow down and move mindfully.
• Barbados and Costa Rica: warm climates, friendly local cultures, strong nature-based tourism, and ocean or rainforest spaces that soothe the nervous system.
• Japan: meticulous cleanliness, safety, and cultural practices that celebrate small moments — tea, temples, quiet neighborhoods — perfect for resetting attention and appreciation.
• Thailand and Vietnam: vibrant yet calming rhythms outside major tourist hubs: clear rituals of food and movement, welcoming communities, and landscapes that invite you to slow down.

Travel can be positive in 2026 despite rapid change. It offers real-time education: you see how societies adapt, how people respond to crises, and how communities hold together. It reminds you that human resilience is alive everywhere. Stopping travel entirely can create its own harms for people for whom movement is life-giving: less perspective, more rumination, and a shrinking of courage and curiosity. For those of us who need travel for emotional balance, stepping away can feel like losing a source of identity and replenishment.

That said, balance looks different now. It’s not about ignoring the world’s changes, but about recalibrating risk and intention. Balance might mean more intentional, slower travel — longer stays in one place, mixing solitude and local connection, supporting local economies in small ways, and avoiding purely performative tourism. It might mean spending more on comfort and safety (direct flights, vetted accommodations, private transfers) so travel is less stressful. It might mean alternating travel with deep local rest and community care.

Practical safety tips as you move through airports and new environments:

• Keep important documents and copies secure (digital and paper). Share your itinerary with a trusted person.
• Use travel health basics: hand hygiene, masks on crowded flights if that makes you comfortable, and up-to-date vaccinations or medications as needed.
• Choose accommodations with good reviews for cleanliness and safety; learn local emergency numbers.
• Move deliberately in transit: leave extra time, avoid peak crowding where possible, and use official transport channels.
• Tune into your body: if you feel depleted, shorten plans and prioritize rest.

If you’re hearing worry about how other people view Americans, remember: many people abroad are curious and kind. Most interactions are human-to-human. Showing humility, listening, and respect goes far. Travel done thoughtfully can be an antidote to fear — it cultivates empathy, provides nuance, and helps you operate from observation rather than rumor.

My hope for everyone is that you find balance, love, and light during times that for many feel dark. Hold your kids and partners close. Work daily to stay grounded. And when you can, go. Even a short trip can be a lifeline: it reminds you that the world is wide, that small acts of courage still matter, and that rest can be found in motion.