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I’m about halfway through a 16‑day trip that has taken me through England and now into Central Europe—Czech Republic, Bavaria in Germany, Austria, Slovakia and Hungary.

And somewhere along the way, I was reminded of something I’ve believed for a long time:

Travel matters.

Not because of the places you see.

But because of what it does to you.

I’ve always made travel a priority—not just for myself, but for my kids and now my grandkids. I’ve felt strongly that exposure to the world is an essential part of a person’s development.

And it goes far beyond sightseeing.

Travel stretches you.

It puts you in environments where things are unfamiliar—different languages, different customs, different ways of thinking. You’re forced, in a quiet way, to adjust. To observe. To listen more carefully.

I’ve long been a devotee of Rick Steves, and I’ve come to agree with his view that travel can feel almost like a spiritual experience.

Not in a formal sense—but in the way it opens you up.

You begin to see the world differently.
And, maybe more importantly, you begin to see yourself differently.

There’s something powerful about stepping outside of your “normal.”

When you’re at home, it’s easy to assume that the way you experience life is the way life is. Travel gently challenges that assumption.

You see how other cultures approach daily life.
You encounter history not as something abstract, but something that surrounds you.
You experience art and architecture that have stood for centuries.
You slow down over meals and begin to appreciate cuisine not just as food, but as part of a culture.

And without even realizing it, your perspective starts to shift.

Your American experience doesn’t disappear—but it gets placed in context.

There’s also something more personal that travel reveals.

It gives you a chance to observe yourself in a different setting.

How do you respond when things don’t go as planned?
When you can’t understand the language?
When you’re a bit uncomfortable or uncertain?

Travel has a way of holding up a mirror.

And if you’re open to it, you learn a lot.

And then there’s the shared experience.

Traveling with a partner, a friend, or family creates something unique. It’s not always smooth. There are moments of stress, missed trains, wrong turns, and occasional frustration.

But working through those moments together creates a different kind of bond.

You’re not just seeing a place.

You’re living something—together.

One thing I’ve also been reminded of on this trip is how easy it is to miss it all.

Even here.

Even now.

You find yourself moving too quickly—trying to see the next thing, check the next box, stay on some invisible schedule.

And then you catch yourself.

And you remember:

The best moments aren’t in the plan.

They’re in the space between.

And I’m being reminded of that on this trip in ways I didn’t fully expect.

Not just in the places—but in the experiences.

• A hotel where every detail is considered.
• An afternoon tea that isn’t about tea at all, but about time.

Small moments, really—but powerful in what they reveal.

That’s really what these trip blogs are about for me.

They aren’t meant to be travel logs or lists of places to see.

They’re a way to capture what the experience sparks—what it reminds me of, what it brings into focus.

In many ways, they’re no different than my Meandering Musings.

Just in a different setting.

Still looking for the same thing:

The extraordinary in the ordinary.
The power of moments.
The meaning that shows up when you slow down enough to notice it.

As I move through the second half of this trip, I’m trying to be more intentional about that.

Less rushing.
More noticing.
More space between the plans.

Because that’s where the real value of travel lives—
not just in what you see,
but in the moments that make you pause long enough to notice.