Before you even get to Yacht Week, the first step is booking your yacht. You can either:

• Book a cabin: Join a boat with strangers and share the experience.
• Book a full yacht: Fill it with your own crew of friends.

My group booked an entire yacht, so I knew everyone on board. I can't recommend one option over the other since I only did the full-crew version, but honestly, everyone I met was friendly. If you do a cabin share, you'll just have more opportunities to mingle and make friends.

From what I heard, it can be slightly cheaper to rent out an entire yacht with your own group — though prices vary by boat size and number of people. Smaller boats cost less overall, but since they hold fewer people, the per-person price often evens out.

Personally, I'd recommend booking a larger boat if you can:

• You'll get a bigger, nicer catamaran with way more lounge space.
• Larger boats = less seasickness.
• Hypothesis, but from my experience: bigger boats tend to get more seasoned skippers (since they're more complex to handle). Ours was super knowledgeable about the route and always made sure we were in prime locations — whether docked in a marina or lined up on Regatta Day.

Another decision: do you want a host? A skipper automatically comes with the yacht, but a host (who cooks and cleans) is optional. My recommendation? Get a host. Yes, it raises the price, but having someone prepare gourmet meals while you relax on the water is so worth it.

Plus, our host Kaylee was amazing (shoutout Kaylee!! She even has her own private catering business in the US). She made our experience so much better — not just for the food, but because she was a vibe.

Day I: Trogir & Opening Party

Day 1 wasn't too wild for us. It was mostly logistics: meeting our skipper and host, getting settled on the boat, grocery shopping, raising all of our flags (bring fun flags to add to the sail), all that good stuff. Nothing major happens on this day, but the excitement in the air is real — everyone's buzzing for the week ahead.

That evening, our whole crew went out to dinner, then hit the official Yacht Week Opening Party at Padre's Bar. Honestly? The venue felt a little small for the crowd size. A few of us ended up wandering to the bar next door, where we somehow befriended the bartenders — and they let us go behind the bar to make drinks. A random but fun little side quest.

Later that night, we headed back to the marina. One of the nearby boats was throwing an after-party, so of course, we joined. We ended up meeting some cool Egyptians and had a wholesome guitar sing-along. A very fun (and slightly chaotic) start to the week.

Day II: Bol

By the time I woke up the next morning at 8 AM, we were already sailing toward the island of Bol. Waking up on the water with the sun shining in and a gourmet breakfast waiting downstairs? Luxury.

The club itself was awesome — set in the middle of a forest, which made for a really unique venue. The music was house/tech, which isn't my favorite genre, but the vibes were still on point.

On Bol, a bunch of us rented ATVs and rode around the island. It wasn't a guided tour — we were just out there on our own, zipping through the streets, probably a little too fast, but safe enough. (I did hear about someone else crashing their ATV into a wall — no injuries, but definitely a reminder to drive carefully.)

After that, we came back to a full lunch spread from our host and then hit the beach. A few of us tried out one of those inflatable water obstacle courses — SO MUCH FUN. I felt like a little kid again. Just know: you'll fall a lot more than you expect, and sometimes it hurts.

That evening, we went into Bol town for dinner. Then it was time for the Yacht Week party at Club 585. Getting there was half the fun — they transported us on little trackless trains (like the ones you see at zoos or amusement parks). Super cute, except one of my friends jumped off his train as a dare and hurt himself... story for another time.

Day III: Regatta Day

This was hands-down my favorite day of the entire trip. Honestly, I would go back to Yacht Week just to relive Regatta Day.

The sail goes from Bol to Starigrad, but instead of docking on land, all the yachts form a tunnel raft — two lines of boats tied up side by side (looks like an equals sign from above). And then? You stay docked like that, all night.

During the sail, every boat dresses in a theme. It's a friendly competition, and the best theme wins a table at the final party of the week. Our theme was Super Mario — each of us dressed as a different character. I loved it, but because we weren't coordinated in one single look, it didn't come across super cohesive to the judges. We didn't win, but it was still so fun seeing everyone else's creativity.

Once all the boats were lined up in the tunnel raft, the real party started. Everyone pulled out their floaties, jumped in the water, and mingled between boats. Then a DJ showed up on a smaller boat in the middle of the raft and started blasting house music. Unreal vibes. I was basically in the water the entire day, soaking up the atmosphere.

This was also one of my favorite days because it was such a natural way to meet people. With everyone boat-hopping, I think I managed to visit every single yacht lined up on our side by the end of the night.

Meals were served on board, and the evening was pretty open-ended — you could call it an early night or keep the party going. A few boats even had DJs set up on board, so some of us joined them to continue dancing.

I can't think about this day without smiling.

Day IV: Carpe Diem Beach Club

Day 4 was party-heavy from start to finish.

I woke up early after spending the night outside (my cabin was basically Harry Potter's closet — not all rooms are built equal, and mine was the unlucky one). Sleeping under the stars was actually kind of magical, so no regrets.

That morning, we sailed out with a few other boats, formed a circle on the water, and swam in the middle for a while. Then we got ready for the big themed party of the day.

Our theme was "The Year of the Sea Myth" — so we went full sirens. The party was at Carpe Diem, a famous beach club on its own island. You literally have to take a water taxi to get there, which already made it feel special.

We splurged on a table at Carpe Diem, and honestly? Worth it. The whole vibe was a blur of dancing, drinks, and being surrounded by the ocean. Highly recommend splurging here — when else are you going to party at a venue like that?

Afterwards, we headed into Hvar town for dinner, then ended up bar hopping with other Yacht Week people. It turned into a long, fun night — especially for me and my friend Lali.

Day V: Hvar

After the madness of Carpe Diem, today was slower. We slept in, had a late breakfast courtesy of our host, and then wandered to the beach to just chill. A reset day, which was much needed.

In the evening, Yacht Week hosted a White Party at Hula Hula Bar, a spot right on the water with an incredible sunset view. The sky turned this gorgeous burnt orange as the sun dipped down — truly stunning.

Now, funny story: right as we arrived, my friend accidentally spilled her red drink down the back of my white dress. Before I even entered the party, I was stained. Classic. Instead of sulking, I decided to lean into it. I grabbed my red lipstick, had my friend kiss the dress, and then went around asking other people to do the same. By the end of the night, my ruined dress had turned into a crafty little souvenir. Lemonade out of lemons.

After the party, we went back to the boat for a family-style dinner cooked by Kaylee. Later that night, we debated between staying near the marina or heading back out — and surprise, surprise, we ended up back at Carpe Diem. This time with a random mix of new friends and old, buying another table and dancing the night away. The spending was getting... questionable at this point, but the memories? Priceless.

Day VI: Vis & Fort George

Our last full day of Yacht Week!

I woke up to us sailing toward Vis, a charming little island town right on the water. It was picturesque — easily one of the prettiest places we visited all week. A few friends and I rented scooters to explore the island, and honestly? One of my favorite activities.

One thing about me: I love scooters. We spent hours driving around the island's curvy, hilly roads, stopping at overlooks and taking in the views. It was such a blast, and I realized I'm actually great on a bike.

Back on the boat, we got ready for dinner in town. We ended up eating outside in a garden — gorgeous vibes, even if I can't remember the restaurant name.

Then came the grand finale: the Closing Party at Fort George, an old fort perched right on the sea. The venue was incredible — stone walls, open-air spaces, music drifting over the water. A few friends and I met up with Molly, and we danced until the party (sadly) shut down earlier than expected.

Not ready for the night to end, we went back to the boats and hung out with friends — new and old. Our whole boat ended up talking until sunrise, and I fell asleep outside again, under the stars. A perfect way to wrap up the week.

Day VII: Return to Trogir

Our final morning.

We all collectively slept in after the long night at Fort George. Once we finally rolled out of bed, we had breakfast, packed up, and started cleaning the boat as we sailed back to Trogir.

Check-out was at 2 PM — and true to form, we were running late. But we made it. We said our goodbyes to our skipper and our host Kaylee, and just like that, our Yacht Week adventure was over.

Baños is famous for many things, but one of the big ones is its waterfalls. The town is surrounded by them, and the most popular are strung along a stretch of highway called the Ruta de las Cascadas.

You can experience the route in a bunch of ways: ATV, car, or bike.

I chose bike.

It sounded like a fun day activity — plus, I'd get a workout in. Two birds, one stone. The hostel I stayed at, Great Hostels (yes, that's actually its name), made it an easy choice too. They had bikes for $10/day, complete with a helmet, a map, and some advice (which, spoiler: I definitely misheard).

The hostel itself was a vibe — colorful, social, and full of cats and dogs wandering the property. There was this black cat I completely fell in love with. 🐈 Anyway, the bikes were cheap, so the decision was made.

The route is simple enough: follow the road in one direction, make stops at the waterfalls, and enjoy the ride. One way, it's about 11 miles — not too crazy for a day trip.

My goal was to visit these waterfalls:

• Cascada de Agoyán
• Cascada Manto de la Novia
• Paílón del Diablo
• Cascada Machay

And so, off I went.

The ride started off smooth. Not too many cars, mostly empty streets, and a lot of downhill cruising. Honestly, I was thriving. The scenery was gorgeous — mountains, rivers, greenery everywhere. Baños is ridiculously beautiful.

My first stop was Cascada de Agoyán.

I only checked it out from a viewpoint, but it was still impressive. You can zipline right across the gorge toward the waterfall, which looked epic, but I decided to save my energy for later stops. Watching strangers scream their way across the canyon was enough entertainment for me.

From there, I pedaled on toward my next stop: Cascada Manto de la Novia. And this is where things… got dicey.

When I rented my bike, I'd been told there might be a tunnel or two on the route, but not to worry because most had clear bike bypasses. Easy.

Or so I thought.

I'd already gone through one short tunnel earlier in the ride where I could see the exit the whole time — no problem. But then I rolled up to this tunnel.

And in my defense: I didn't see a bypass sign anywhere.

In my offense: I'm an idiot who looked at a pitch-black hole in the mountain and thought, "Yep, that's my route."

Reader, it was not my route.

The tunnel was pitch black. I couldn't see a thing in front of me. And it wasn't just dark — it was active two-way traffic. Cars were flying past, headlights blinding me, and I was hugging the side of the wall for dear life. At one point, I tried pulling over to wait it out, but cars just kept coming.

So I came up with a plan: use my phone flashlight to see.

Spoiler: it did nothing. Absolutely useless.

I finally rolled up to Cascada Manto de la Novia.

Like Agoyán, I just viewed it from a distance — mostly because I knew I had a long day ahead of me. From the viewpoint, it was still stunning. Most people either take a little cable car across the gorge to get closer to the falls, or zipline for a shot of adrenaline. Both looked fun, but I was saving my time (and energy) for later stops. Instead, I grabbed a snack from a nearby stand, enjoyed the view, and hopped back on my bike.

A few kilometers later, I ran into another tunnel. And this time? I actually saw the bike bypass.

Cue lightbulb moment. 💡 And of course, I had to vlog:

I pulled over, stared at the clearly marked path, and realized: I had 100% messed up at the last tunnel. I could have avoided my near-death biking experience entirely.

My next big stop was Paílón del Diablo

It was located in the small town of Río Verde. It's a cute place with plenty of roadside restaurants and shops, so I parked and locked my bike, then walked over to the entrance.

There are actually two entrances to see Paílón del Diablo — an upper and a lower. I didn't realize this until later, but I ended up taking the lower entrance, which I thought was the cooler one.

From the gate, it's about a 15-minute downhill walk with lots of stairs. At the park entrance, I paid the $2 fee and headed in. The trail itself was beautiful — stone paths, lush greenery, and then finally, the waterfall itself.

And wow. Paílón del Diablo is massive. The sheer force of the water is incredible, but what really got me was the architecture of the park. The stone staircases and pathways carved into the landscape made the whole thing feel magical.

One of the highlights was a narrow tunnel path called La Grieta al Cielo. It winds its way under the falls, and some parts are so tight you have to crawl through. You will definitely get wet.

Of course, I thought this tunnel would connect me to the upper viewpoint. Spoiler: it did not. Instead, it led me directly under the waterfall — where I got absolutely drenched. Not mad about it though. It was cold, chaotic, and hilarious.

After my unexpected shower, I crossed the suspension bridge to a little café with a perfect view of the falls. I ordered an Ecuadorian hot chocolate, warmed up, and just sat there soaking it all in (pun intended). Honestly? One of my favorite moments of the entire day.

My last stop was Cascada Machay.

By this point, I wasn't totally gassed, but I was definitely feeling the wear of the day. The last stretch was uphill, and I eventually gave in and started walking my bike. No shame.

At the entrance, there was no fee, but there were so many stairs down to the falls. Going down wasn't too bad — but I knew coming back up was going to be brutal.

The waterfall itself was worth it. It's also a popular swimming spot, so I waded into the (freezing) water, which felt amazing after biking in the sun. I even stretched out on some rocks and took a little nap. When I first arrived, I had the place completely to myself — which made it even more special.

As I was getting ready to leave, I ran into some friends from the hostel who told me about an important life hack: you can actually arrange transport back to Baños instead of biking the 11 miles uphill. They were planning to grab a ride, and I happily joined their plan.

So after soaking in a bit more waterfall time, we hiked back up those endless stairs and asked the women running the snack shop to call us a ride. A pickup truck showed up, we loaded our bikes in the back, and off we went — wind in our hair, mountains all around us. Honestly, the perfect way to end the day.

Back in Baños, I couldn't stop smiling. This bike ride was hands down my favorite day in Baños — maybe even in all of Ecuador. It had everything: adventure, chaos, beauty, a near-death experience, and friendly strangers who made the journey feel safe and fun.

As a solo, female traveler, I had debated whether I should even attempt this ride. But I'm a big believer in doing the things that scare you — responsibly, of course. And this day proved why.

Baños was a town I hadn't even heard of before Ecuador, but now it holds a permanent place in my heart. It's always those unexpected places — the ones you never planned for — that end up surprising you the most.

The beauty of looking where you never thought to look.

Permits & Logistics

Here's the deal: to camp at Havasupai, you need a permit. And getting one is like winning the lottery — literally.

The permits open once a year, and you apply for a specific group size and dates. My friend applied for our group and snagged around a spot for early August.

Once you've got your permit, it's time to think about logistics. There's only one way in and out: a 10-mile hike into the canyon.

You have a few options:

• Carry your own gear (tents, food, packs, everything).
• Pay for a horse to carry your gear.
• Pay for a horse to carry you and your gear.

We chose option one — backpacks stuffed with everything we needed for two days. Brutal? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.

Because it was August, the heat was no joke. It's strongly recommended you start before dawn to avoid hiking in the blazing sun. We started around 4 a.m. with headlamps on. It's mostly downhill into the canyon (the first mile drops about 1,000 feet), then a long gradual descent through the red walls.

There is a lodge and small cantina in Havasupai village (about a mile before the campground), so technically you don't need to pack food. But if you do, bring a JetBoil or similar stove. Trust me on this one. (We forgot fuel, and it was almost tragic until we begged a spare can from some friendly campers.)

Day I: The Hike In & Havasu Falls

Our group of eight started hiking at 4 a.m. — bleary-eyed but excited. I had flown in late the night before, so I was running on fumes, but adrenaline carried me.

It took us about 8 hours to reach the campground — longer than the average 4-6, but hey, we were hauling food, tents, and all our gear. Along the way, we passed through Havasupai village, where there's a small grocery store, restaurant, and even helicopter deliveries bringing in everything from groceries to flat-screen TVs. It was surreal.

We finally reached Havasu Falls around 2 p.m., in peak heat. And when I saw it? WOW. Turquoise water gushing over red cliffs into a perfect pool. Absolutely stunning. We dropped our packs, set up camp, and sprinted to the falls to swim. The water was icy cold, but after the long, hot hike, it felt like heaven.

Of course, because it was my first camping trip, we forgot one tiny thing: the rain fly. Cue a sudden downpour that soaked all our stuff. Rookie mistake. Luckily, it passed quickly, and we dried things out while cooking dinner. That night, we hiked back to the falls under the stars. Honestly? Magical.

Sleeping in a tent wasn't bad either — I was so exhausted, I knocked out. Plus, unzipping the cover and seeing a sky full of stars was soothing.

Day II: Mooney Falls & (Almost) Beaver Falls

The next morning, we made breakfast and headed out to explore more waterfalls. First stop: Mooney Falls.

Getting there is an adventure in itself. You descend down the canyon wall using foot holds, chains, and ladders bolted into the rock. It felt like rock climbing, and the mist from the falls made everything slippery. Sketchy, yes. But when we got down? Totally worth it. Mooney is massive — taller than Havasu — with powerful currents we tried (and failed) to swim close to.

From Mooney, you follow the creek about 3 miles to Beaver Falls. The hike is gorgeous: lush greenery, turquoise pools, and sections where you wade through water. It didn't feel like the Grand Canyon at all — more like a jungle.

We were almost there when a ranger stopped us. Storm were rolling in, and there was a risk of flash flooding. So we had to turn back. A little heartbreaking, but better safe than sorry.

By the time we climbed back up to Mooney (with slippery rocks and drizzle), we were wiped. We headed back to camp, only to discover our borrowed JetBoil had run out. So I went wandering around camp like a beggar until a kind group shared theirs with us. Bless the prepared.

Day II Night: The Hike Out

We started our trek out at 10 p.m. to beat the heat. Hiking uphill in the dark was tough but also kind of surreal. It was pitch black, and my quads were Texas, so I stubbed my toes on approximately every rock in Arizona.

On the way out, we passed through Havasupai village again. Here visitors can actually pay about $200 to fly out on a helicopter if they don't want to make the full hike back. One of our friends had sprained his ankle earlier in the day and decided to do just that. He dropped his off at the pad, handed over some of our heavier gear to the helicopter ride, and then the rest of us continued on foot.

The coolest part? Canyon dogs joined us. Seriously. Three stray dogs trotted alongside us all night like they were our guides. They knew the path better than we did, and we just followed their lead.

The hike back took about 3 hours. A bit after dawn, we reached the final brutal mile — that 1,000-foot climb out. At that point, we all agreed to go at our own pace. I thought I'd be last, but surprise! I powered through and came in second. Turns out, adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

When I got to the top at 7AM, sweaty, sore, and running on zero sleep. I looked back at the canyon and thought: "hell yeah. Round two. Let's go." (but not really)

This was my first real hiking-and-camping trip, and it was one of the coolest experiences I've ever had. Exhausting? Yes. But the waterfalls, the stars, the canyon dogs, the sheer beauty of being cut off from the world (no data down there!) — all of it made it unforgettable.

If I go again, I'd camp for at least 2-3 nights instead of one. It would give me time to rest between hikes and enjoy the falls more fully. Honestly, I could have stayed a week: just swimming, relaxing, and being away from civilization.

If you're into hiking, camping, or just want to challenge yourself, Havasupai is worth it. It's a unique hike — mostly descending rather than climbing in — and a rare chance to experience a hidden oasis.

Sadly, the area closed for the 2025 season due to flooding damage. But if you ever get the chance in the future, grab it. It's an adventure that stays with you.

Tickets & Logistics

Here's the first thing you need to know: tickets sell out instantly. You have to pre-register, and even then, the odds can feel slim.

How it works: If you've been before, you get earlier access, which makes it easier to keep booking year after year. But since my friends and I were newbies, we were raw-dogging it. We signed up for presale, woke up early, and crossed our fingers.

My thoughts: For first-timers, Global Journey was a great choice. It took a lot of stress out of the process. But next time? I'm camping.

Here's why: Tomorrowland takes place in a small town called Boom, about an hour from Brussels. With Global Journey, we stayed in a hostel-style hotel in the city, which meant it took forever to get to and from the festival. Each night, it was a 40-minute walk from the festival grounds to the shuttles, then another hour-long ride back. By the time we got home, any energy we had left for an after-party was long gone. And as someone with a tiny bladder? Not my favorite setup.

Camping puts you right on-site and fully immersed in the experience. No death marches to shuttles, no two-hour commute — just vibes.

That said, Global Journey was still well-rounded. You can upgrade to higher-tier hotels if you want something fancier, and for about $1,200 total, it covered almost everything: festival entry, accommodations, shuttles, and even trains from bigger cities where flights land. For first-timers, it's a safe bet.

OMG. Where do I even start?

The production value is insane. The amount of time and effort put into the stages is unreal. There were over 12 unique stages, each with its own theme — some felt like underground dungeons, others gave Tulum beach club vibes. One was designed like a library (which was one of my faves).

The main stage changes every year, and in 2023, the theme was "Life". It was a massive, intricate Garden of Eden setup with vines and flowers. It was breathtaking.

Here's the thing: before Tomorrowland, I wasn't a huge EDM or house listener. But it didn't matter. Between the big-name artists and the sheer energy of the place, I was having the time of my life. Every single day somehow topped the one before it.

And the crowd? Honestly one of the best parts. Tomorrowland draws people from all over the world, across all ages, and everyone was so kind. I even moshed (in Tevas, I was wilding) during DJ Diesel (aka Shaq). And unlike what I knew about mosh pits, this one was civil: if someone fell, people stopped to pick them up. If something got lost, people made sure it was returned. My friend lost her phone in that pit and got it back. Unreal.

Another thing that made the whole experience stress-free: finding our crew was never an issue. I have T-Mobile, so I had international data the whole time, and it worked perfectly across the festival grounds. Being able to text and share locations made it super easy to regroup, even with the massive crowds.

Oh — and the food. You wouldn't expect festival food to be gourmet, but Tomorrowland delivers. I had meals there better than some restaurants I've ever eaten at.

Overall, the festival was so well-organized. From the flow of the grounds to the diversity of the stages to the logistics of moving massive crowds — it just worked.

Some of my favorite moments from the trip:

Tomorrowland's motto is Live Today, Love Tomorrow, Unite Forever. And you don't just see that plastered on banners, you actually feel it. It's in the music, the energy of the stages, the way strangers take care of each other in the crowd.

I went into this trip expecting a cool weekend with friends. What I got was something bigger: a reminder of how powerful it feels to be surrounded by people from every corner of the world, all just there to celebrate and connect.

Even if you don't know the music well (like me going in), you'll still find your space. With 12+ stages and so many artists, there's always a pocket of energy that fits your vibe, but the real magic isn't just the sets or the stages — it's the community.

Tomorrowland showed me how music can bring people together in a way that feels universal. You're not just at a festival: you're part of something that transcends borders, languages, and backgrounds.

The feeling really does go on and on and on. Fittingly, that was my song of the festival. (If you haven't heard it, check out Lost Frequencies.)

Would I go back? Absolutely! I can't wait to bring my sister so she can feel that same magic too. (AND I AM!)

Tomorrowland is DEF worth the hype.

After Yacht Week in Croatia (more about yacht week here), I had zero plans. The only thing on my calendar was a flight leaving France a month and a half later. That was it.

So, I just… wandered.

Sometimes I booked my next stop a week out, sometimes just a few days. It was risky, sure, but having no set plan left me open to surprises.

For example: I reached out to a friend while in Europe, and she casually mentioned she was heading to Albania. My first thought was, "Albania?? Really??" But I decided, fuck it, and joined her. And wow — what a surprise.

That random decision turned into one of the highlights of my trip. Albania was gorgeous — still developing in some areas, but the history, the people, the beaches? Unreal. One of the days we rented a car with folks from a hostel and hopped around different beaches close to Sarande (where we were staying). A spontaneous adventure with people I had just met.

I even ended up tagging along with a girl I met at a hostel as she traveled up the country. We explored towns I couldn't have even pointed to on a map beforehand. Definitely not something I'd have squeezed into a color-coded itinerary.

From there, I basically let cheap flights and my heart dictate my path. Honestly, it turned out to be one of the best trips of my life.

My second no-plan adventure was in South America.

The trip started with a bang: hiking Patagonia with friends (absolutely epic — but that's a whole story for another time). After that, I had about three weeks before I needed to be back in the U.S. for Thanksgiving. No plan. Just vibes.

First stop: Buenos Aires. I met up with some friends, ate all the steak, danced too much, and — in true spontaneous fashion — got a tattoo. Because apparently that's what happens when I have zero structure in my life.

Then, after some half-baked research, I found a cheap flight out of Ecuador back to the US. Which meant, naturally, I was going to Ecuador.

And that's how I ended up in Baños, on the most chaotic and incredible bike ride of my life (read about that here). But along the way, I discovered some of the most beautiful waterfalls, met amazing people, and had experiences I never could have scripted.

That whole trip was built on a chain of small, spontaneous choices that turned into unforgettable memories. Every choice a coin flip that somehow landed in my favor.

Traveling without a plan is not for the faint of heart. It's a little scary — especially solo — and it requires a lot of trust in the process. But it's also incredibly freeing.

Without rigid plans, you leave room for serendipity. You say yes to detours. You end up in places you never even thought to look. Some of my favorite memories were made this way: in the uncertainty, in the unexpected turns, in the journey itself.

I'm not saying you should throw away itineraries forever. But I do think everyone should travel without a plan at least once in their life. It's different, it's nerve-wracking, but it's also one of the most rewarding ways to experience the world.

The best parts of my travels weren't the things I meticulously researched. They were the surprises — the random countries, the strangers-turned-friends, the moments I never could have scheduled.

Sometimes the path less taken isn't in the guidebook. Sometimes it's the one you stumble onto when you throw the plan out the window.