“Travel isn’t just about movement—it’s about meaning. It’s about how we choose to experience the world, and how we allow those experiences to shape us.”
The way we travel is changing. We are shifting away from rushing through places toward immersing in them. We are moving beyond passive tourism and embracing experiences that challenge, restore, and transform us.
For some, this means learning a skill in a foreign land—cooking with a local chef in Argentina, surfing under the guidance of a dedicated instructor in Costa Rica. For others, it is about seeking restoration—letting nature act as a healing force, whether through thermal springs, immersive wilderness retreats, or simply the act of slowing down. More travelers are choosing intentionality over excess, depth over speed, responsibility over consumption.
This shift isn’t about one single trend—it is happening across multiple aspects of travel. We are seeing a return to slowness, a focus on restoration, a deepening sense of responsibility, and a redefinition of freedom.
At its core, the future of travel is not about more—it is about deeper.
Transformational & Experience-Driven Travel: Seeking Change, Not Just Scenery
“More travelers are looking for something beyond sightseeing—they want experiences that leave them changed.”
Travel is no longer just about visiting places—it’s about how those places change us. Instead of simply passing through, more people are looking for ways to immerse themselves in local traditions, learn new skills, and engage with a destination beyond surface-level tourism.
I’ve felt this shift in my own travels—moving away from just seeing a place to truly experiencing it. Two journeys, in particular, stand out—both about learning new skills, yet offering something far deeper than technique.
Cooking, Cycling & Rafting in Mendoza: A Journey in Wine & Connection
One of my most memorable experiences of immersive travel was in Mendoza, Argentina, while visiting my daughter during her junior year abroad in Buenos Aires. When we travel together, we always seek out experiential holidays—a way to blend adventure, learning, and deep cultural connection.
In Mendoza, we stayed at a boutique hotel on a working vineyard. The setting was perfect—rustic yet elegant, surrounded by rolling vines and distant mountains. Each evening, we dined on locally sourced dishes, paired with the exceptional wines produced right on the estate. It wasn’t just about tasting the wine—it was about understanding the land, the process, the people behind it.
But the true magic happened in the kitchen.
Rather than just visiting a vineyard for a tour and tasting, we had the opportunity to step behind the scenes with an award-winning Argentine chef. We spent the afternoon in his kitchen, learning the art of making empanadas. He walked us through each step—rolling the dough, perfecting the filling, folding them with just the right technique.
But it wasn’t just about the cooking. As we prepared the meal, he shared the history of the empanada—how it started as the working man's meal, valued for its portability and practicality, and how over time it has evolved into a staple of family gatherings and celebrations in Argentina.
That afternoon, I realized that food is never just food—it is history, culture, and connection.
The following days were just as immersive. We cycled through the vineyards, stopping at different wineries along the way, letting the landscape unfold one sip, one mile at a time. The ride became more interesting as the tastings added up—but it was all part of the experience.
We added even more adventure to the trip—rafting down fast-moving rivers and rappelling down cliffs, pushing ourselves in ways we hadn’t before.
By the time we left, we hadn’t just seen Mendoza—we had felt it, tasted it, lived it.
Surf & Yoga in Costa Rica: More Than Just Learning a Skill
Some travel experiences go beyond just learning something new—they change the way you see a place, its people, and even yourself. That’s exactly what happened when I traveled to Costa Rica with a friend for a surf and yoga camp.
At first, we thought it would be a group experience, learning to surf alongside others, joining scheduled yoga classes, and following an itinerary. But instead, we found ourselves in a much more intimate and immersive journey—a week-long one-on-one experience with a local instructor who took us under his wing.
Each day began and ended with sunrise and sunset yoga—a moment to welcome and thank the day under the open sky, with the Pacific Ocean stretching endlessly before us. It wasn’t just about flexibility or balance—it was about connection, about rhythm, about presence.
Then came the real challenge—learning to surf.
We spent hours paddling out, catching waves, wiping out, and trying again. It was humbling, exhilarating, and exhausting all at once. But what made this experience special was what happened in between the surf sessions.
Our instructor didn’t just teach us how to stand on a board—he shared his life with us. He took us to his favorite haunts—local food trucks serving some of the best food I’ve ever tasted, hidden waterfalls tucked away in the jungle, panoramic lookouts that framed the ocean like a masterpiece.
Along the way, he shared his perspectives on the evolution of Costa Rica—how tourism had shaped the country, how locals had adapted, and the immense amount of training and certification required to work in the industry. It was a side of Costa Rica that most travelers never see—the effort, the dedication, the pride in sharing their home with the world.
By the end of the week, we had gained more than just the ability to catch a wave. We had gained insight, appreciation, and a deeper respect for the people who make travel experiences possible.
“In the end, the waves we rode were just part of the journey. The real lessons were in the spaces between—the people, the stories, the way the ocean teaches patience, resilience, and presence.”
Final Thoughts on Transformational Travel
These experiences changed me. They weren’t just about learning to cook, ride, or surf—they were about learning to slow down, to listen, to be present.
This is what transformational travel is. It’s not about how many miles you cover, but how deeply a place imprints itself on you.
Today, travelers aren’t just asking, "Where should I go?" They’re asking, "How will this change me?" Wellness isn’t just a niche—it’s becoming a core part of how we choose to travel.
The Growth of Wellness & Longevity Travel: Traveling to Restore, Not Escape
For years, wellness travel was seen as something exclusive—spa retreats, detox programs, and yoga getaways in exotic locations. But now, the idea of traveling to restore oneself rather than to escape one’s life has taken on a deeper meaning.
Instead of seeking relaxation for a weekend, travelers are looking for something lasting; experiences that bring them back feeling stronger, healthier, and more in sync with themselves. Some venture to places known for longevity, hoping to uncover the secrets of long, healthy lives in regions like Ikaria, Okinawa, or Nicoya. Others seek healing through age-old practices, immersing themselves in thermal springs, cold-water therapy, or high-altitude retreats where the very air feels like medicine. More and more, people are returning to nature itself as the cure.
Nature as Medicine: Healing in the Wild
For me, wellness isn’t found in a retreat center or a structured program—it’s found outdoors, in the rhythm of the natural world itself.
Having stage IV cancer, I’ve come to see nature not just as a place to be, but as something restorative—physically, mentally, even spiritually. Not just because of the fresh air or the movement, but because when I sit in nature, I don’t just observe it—I feel it.
There are moments when I sit quietly, and it’s as if my pulse syncs with hers—as if the rhythm of my body is aligning with the unseen forces around me. When the wind picks up, I don’t just hear it—I feel her strength. When the rain falls, it doesn’t just soak my skin—it cleanses me, inside and out.
But it’s more than just sensation. It’s understanding. Watching nature do what it does—without fanfare, without hesitation, without apology.
I’ve watched how she responds to change. She culls the weak, strengthens the strong. But the weak are just as important as the strong—because when they fall, they become the nutrients that fuel new life. The strong, in turn, continue the cycle—providing oxygen, stabilizing ecosystems, shaping the world in ways both seen and unseen.
There is balance in everything. Predators keep populations in check. Plants and animals exist in a silent, intricate dance, each helping the other survive.
And then, there is us.
We, who think we can control her. Who introduce invasive species, reshape landscapes, disrupt ecosystems—believing that we know better. And yet, when we interfere, chaos follows. Not because nature is failing, but because we failed to listen.
More and more, people are recognizing that nature itself is healing. In Japan, people immerse themselves in forests, not as hikers, but as seekers of peace. In Iceland, travelers breathe in the steam of volcanic earth, letting the land’s raw power seep into their bones. Across the world, there is a return to the idea that being in nature isn’t just enjoyable—it’s essential.
Science & Tradition Converge: Nature’s Medicine is Real
This isn’t just sentiment or folklore. Science now confirms what many have always known: nature is one of the most profound medicines for human well-being.
Regular contact with the natural world has been shown to lower stress, boost mood, sharpen cognition, strengthen the immune system, and even help prevent disease. Hormones shift. Brain waves change. The body remembers a rhythm older than civilization itself.
But even before science could measure these effects, ancient wisdom had already understood them. From meditative forest walks in Japan to indigenous traditions that see nature as sacred, people have long turned to the natural world for solace, meaning, and connection. Whether we speak of the Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku—forest bathing as therapy—or the simple, universal truth that a walk in the woods restores the soul, the underlying principle is the same: we are biologically and spiritually wired to thrive in harmony with the natural world.
In a fast-paced, high-tech era, reconnecting with nature might be one of the simplest yet most powerful ways to improve our health and happiness. Physicians are beginning to prescribe time outdoors as part of treatment. Urban planners are designing cities with green spaces and tree-lined streets not as an afterthought, but as a public health investment. More of us are remembering what it means to unplug and step outside—not to escape, but to return to something essential.
Wellness travel isn’t just about taking care of ourselves. It’s about learning from nature’s quiet wisdom—about resilience, adaptation, and balance.
Wellness Travel: A Return to What Was Always There
We are no longer looking for quick fixes or spa treatments that last for a weekend. We’re searching for something deeper—something that lasts.
For some, that means exploring regions of the world where people live the longest.
For others, it means immersing themselves in ancient wellness traditions—hot springs, breathwork, fasting, cold exposure.
For me, it’s about sitting in the wild, syncing to the rhythms of something bigger than myself.
As Emerson once suggested, and as modern science now confirms, the cure for many of our ailments may indeed lie in the quiet of the woods, the grandeur of the mountains, or the gentle lap of water on a shore. In the end, nature’s doors are always open to us. Our task is simply to step through and receive the medicine it offers—with gratitude, with awe, and with the humility to listen.
Slow Travel: The Journey Matters as Much as the Destination
"The best moments in travel happen when we stop rushing."
In a world that values efficiency over experience, slow travel is a deliberate act of defiance. It is the choice to immerse rather than skim, to absorb rather than consume. For decades, travel was about how much you could see in the shortest amount of time. Long-haul flights, whirlwind itineraries, and cramming in as many destinations as possible became the norm. But something has shifted. More travelers are choosing to slow down, to truly experience a place rather than just pass through it.
Instead of rushing through a country in a week, they are spending a month in one city. Instead of short-haul flights, they are taking the train. Instead of checking off famous landmarks, they are wandering through small villages, letting the experience unfold naturally.
For me, road-tripping and expedition-style travel have been the ultimate forms of slow travel.
Chasing the Northern Lights: A Lesson in Slow Travel
Road-tripping is both a mindset and a method. When you take to the road, you are literally and figuratively in the driver’s seat—controlling not just where you go, but how you experience the journey. When I set out to chase the Northern Lights, it wasn’t about simply getting to a destination—it was about the journey itself. Traveling in my camper van, my abode was always with me, which meant I had the freedom to go where I wanted, stay as long as I pleased, and move at my own rhythm.
Unlike structured travel, where hotels and check-in times dictate your schedule, road-tripping allows for something different—a deeper relationship with the land. I spent nights boondocking in remote places, far from the hum of civilization, where the sky stretched endlessly and the only company was the crisp air and the possibility of the aurora dancing above. I lingered in places that felt right, left when they no longer did. The magic of road-tripping is in its methodical pace—you aren’t rushing from one place to the next, but rather letting the landscape guide you. Some nights, I’d find myself pulled toward a lake’s stillness; other times, the promise of a winding road ahead was enough to keep driving. It is this lack of rigid structure that makes road-tripping the perfect embodiment of slow travel. You don’t just pass through places—you inhabit them, however briefly. You don’t just glimpse the world through a window—you live within it.
Slow travel isn’t just about taking your time—it’s about making time matter.
Slow Travel by Rail & Sea: A Future Journey Through Europe & Scotland
This spring, I will once again embrace the art of slow travel, this time across Europe and Scotland. The journey begins with a deliberate choice to take the train instead of flying. While it would be faster—and sometimes even cheaper—to fly between cities, it’s been a while since I’ve been in Europe, and I want to see the changes, not just arrive at the next destination.
Traveling by rail allows for immersion, for watching landscapes unfold, for seeing how cities stretch beyond their postcard-perfect centers. If a stop captures my interest, I can step off, explore, and move forward at my own rhythm. And then, in Scotland, the journey slows even further. I will be boarding a small expedition-style cruise to explore the remote outer islands of Scotland. These islands, shrouded in history, shaped by wind and water, are best experienced not from the deck of a massive liner, but at the pace the land and sea dictate. At each port, we will leave the ship and take to kayaks, gliding across the water at a speed dictated not by engines, but by our own hands.
This is travel at its purest, its quietest, its most intimate. Kayaking allows for a perspective no other form of transport can provide—one where you are eye level with seals lounging on rocky outcrops, where you can drift silently as seabirds wheel above, where the vastness of the landscape doesn’t blur past a window but surrounds you in its stillness. This trip isn’t about getting from one place to the next—it’s about fully experiencing the journey itself.
Why Slow Travel Matters
The beauty of slow travel is not in how much you see, but in how deeply you see it.
Slow travel isn’t just a method—it’s a mindset. It is about valuing the moments in between, the pauses, the unexpected detours. When I chased the northern lights, I wasn’t just driving I was learning to be still, to observe, to listen to the silence of the wilderness. When I take the train through Europe, it won’t just be about getting somewhere—it will be about absorbing the world as it passes by. When I kayak in Scotland, it won’t just be about moving across the water—it will be about feeling the rhythm of the sea beneath me.
To slow down is to fully absorb the journey, to allow a place to shape you rather than rushing to shape it into a memory. It is choosing presence over pace, experience over efficiency. I have felt this while chasing the northern lights from the comfort of my truck camper, when my only agenda was to follow the sky. I have felt it on a train, watching the European countryside unfold outside my window. I will feel it again when I take to the waters of Scotland by kayak, letting the rhythm of the tide dictate the journey.
The best travel moments are rarely the ones we plan for—they are the ones we allow to happen.
Slow Travel is Deeper and More Intentional
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Travel isn’t just about movement—it’s about meaning. It’s about how we choose to experience the world, and how we allow those experiences to shape us.”
The way we travel is changing. We are shifting away from rushing through places toward immersing in them. We are moving beyond passive tourism and embracing experiences that challenge, restore, and transform us. More than ever, travel is becoming a means of engagement rather than escape.
It is no longer just about reaching a destination—it is about how we arrive. The decision to take a train rather than a plane is no longer just about convenience; it is a choice to watch the world unfold outside the window rather than letting it blur past beneath the clouds. It is the same reason why some travelers are choosing to spend weeks in a single place rather than hopping between countries. There is something to be said for lingering, for allowing a place to sink into you rather than rushing to capture it in passing.
Travel is also becoming more personal. People are no longer simply seeking new landscapes—they are seeking experiences that change them. Some take to the wild in search of transformation, pushing their bodies to the limit or immersing themselves in solitude. Others find renewal in quiet moments—floating in thermal waters, walking beneath ancient trees, watching the ocean from the seat of a kayak. For many, travel is no longer just about seeing the world; it is about healing within it.
But with this shift comes responsibility. To travel is to interact, and with that comes a choice—to consume or to contribute, to take or to give back. More than ever, travelers are beginning to recognize that their presence has an impact, whether in a remote village, a fragile ecosystem, or a city struggling beneath the weight of tourism. In the same way that nature maintains balance, so too must we find a way to engage with the world without disturbing the delicate rhythm that makes it what it is.
At its core, the future of travel is not about more—it is about deeper. It is about letting the road guide you rather than rushing to your next stop. It is about understanding that travel is not just an escape—it is a way of returning.
Returning to the world, with eyes open.
Returning to ourselves, with a little more clarity.
Returning to what we’ve always known but sometimes forget—that travel is at its most powerful when it teaches us how to be present.
Conclusion: The Future of Travel is About Depth, Not Distance"Travel isn’t just about where we go—it’s about how we experience the world, and how those experiences shape us."
The future of travel is not defined by faster planes, bigger resorts, or more ambitious itineraries. Instead, it is being shaped by a growing desire for presence, transformation, and responsibility. Travelers are no longer simply moving through places—they are immersing in them, allowing each journey to leave its mark, not just on their memories, but on who they are.
For so long, travel was about covering ground, about how many places we could fit into a single trip. Now, more people are realizing that meaningful travel is not about movement—it is about presence. A train ride through Europe, a road trip under the Northern Lights, or a kayak gliding through Scottish waters—these are not just ways of getting somewhere. They are ways of experiencing the journey itself.
Travel is no longer just about sightseeing—it is about connection. People are shifting toward more intentional experiences—ones that challenge them, teach them, or restore them. Whether it’s learning to surf in Costa Rica, kneading dough in an Argentine kitchen, or hiking through landscapes that feel untouched by time, these moments are redefining what it means to explore.
But travel is also evolving in another way—it is becoming more personal. Some seek adventure to push their limits, while others look for restoration in nature’s stillness. Some crave cultural immersion, while others travel to simply exist somewhere new. Whatever the reason, the way we travel is increasingly shaped by what we need, rather than what we feel we should see.
This shift toward slower, more immersive travel allows us to see a place not just as a destination, but as a living, breathing world unfolding before us. It allows us to stop rushing, to truly see, and to allow the experience to sink in rather than blur past.
Travel as Transformation: Every Journey Has the Power to Change Us
The most impactful journeys are the ones that leave us different from when we arrived. Some travel to test themselves against the elements, pushing their physical and mental limits. Others travel to heal, to find clarity, or to rediscover parts of themselves they’ve forgotten.
Transformation can come in many forms: The quiet realization that nature moves at its own rhythm, and we are just passing through; The unexpected friendship forged over a shared meal in a place where words fail but understanding remains; The moment when a landscape reminds you of your own smallness, and yet, in that, your significance.
These are the kinds of experiences that stay with us. These are the journeys that shape us long after the bags are unpacked.
Sustainability & Responsibility: Traveling with Awareness
With this shift toward intentional travel comes the recognition that travel is not just about what we take, but about what we leave behind. More than ever, travelers are asking themselves: Does my presence here contribute or consume? Am I respecting the land, the culture, the people?
Sustainability is no longer just about choosing the right hotel or reducing plastic waste—it is about traveling in a way that supports the places we visit rather than exploits them. This means: Choosing slow travel instead of rushing through destinations; Supporting local communities and economies rather than mass tourism; Recognizing that nature does not exist for our entertainment—it is something we are a part of, and responsible for.
More travelers are embracing the idea that we are guests wherever we go, and it is our responsibility to leave places better than we found them.
The Role of Comfort & Wellness: The Balance Between Challenge and Healing
Not every journey has to be about challenge and endurance. Sometimes, travel is about allowing ourselves to experience joy, to rest, and to find comfort in new surroundings. The resurgence of wellness travel is proof of this shift. Whether it’s soaking in thermal springs, immersing in nature’s rhythms, or simply staying still long enough to breathe, people are seeking travel that doesn’t just exhaust them, but restores them.
This is where balance comes in.
Some journeys will push us to our limits. Others will invite us to slow down. Both are valuable, both are necessary.
Travel is More Than Moving—It’s Becoming.
The road ahead isn’t just a path—it’s a choice.
Will you move through the world, or will you let it move through you?
Will you rush from place to place, or will you linger long enough to feel a place settle into your bones?
Will you let travel change you? Not just in the way you see new landscapes, but in the way you see yourself?
The world doesn’t need more footprints stamped across it. It needs more travelers who listen. Who pause. Who give back.
Let your journey be one of meaning. Let it matter.
Because in the end, travel isn’t about how many places you’ve been—it’s about how deeply you’ve been there.
The road is calling.
How will you answer?
About the author Thom Barrett is a traveler, storyteller, and author navigating life with stage IV cancer. Having explored some of the world’s most remote landscapes while confronting the realities of mortality, he writes about the intersection of adventure, resilience, and the search for meaning. Thom's work reflects that we don’t travel to escape life—we travel to embrace it. Through his writing, he hopes to inspire others to live fully, whether on the road or in the quiet moments in between. Follow his journey at LivingLifeWhileDying.com.
