In a land defined by otherworldly, unpeopled spaces, and the isolation of islanders — it makes no sense to explore here en mass. In this episode, Native Traveler shows you the Iceland of Icelanders.
(Start: Feature; Interview with Mike Poppe of Trufflepig — 7:30; Interview with Wake Up Reykjavik — 20:00)
In a travel realm fixated on the most posh, the most remote, the most insider, the most bucket-list worthy—we liked the idea of revisiting that universal moment when the yearn to discover the world first mattered... and what that looks like today. Here's to those planning their first epic journey, and to all the rest of us who remember that first no-plans, no-strings, no-limits walkabout like we remember our first kiss. Afterward, we knew we'd never be the same.
Amid the remnants of our family homestead in Ulster Ireland, I found myself asking these questions—what about this place made my ancestors who they were, who we are. The quest for such answers has more and more travelers hitting the road to explore family roots the world over. This show celebrates their journeys.
My 85-year-old mother’s slumbering inhalations sound like a slow, breathy metronome. In the next seat, my son Mack looks on in genuine, 11-year-old wonder about ten inches from her open mouth. Despite the crush and chatter of passengers settling in for this flight to Dublin, Mom has fallen deeply, blissfully asleep just minutes since our boarding.
My husband Tim exhales with exasperation, standing with bag in hand and peering into the already packed overhead bin. I know the feeling, but not about carry-on.
There is no sugar coating this. Transporting five people with birthdates spanning seven decades across the Atlantic, then squeezing them into a mid-sized Renault hatchback to drive 650 kilometres of remote northern Irish coastline on some ancestry scavenger hunt—well, it’s one big, messy ordeal. Still, if there’s such a thing as shared genetic memory, the idea of our three generations summoning it together just seemed important. And with every sip of my un-chilled airline chardonnay, I’m feeling more hopeful it is.
For us snowbirds north of 49th parallel, our notion of Mexico can be involuntarily shaped by widespread promotions of sun and sand, all-inclusive packages—easy enticing respites from harsh Canadian winters. What an injustice. In this show, the ladies at The Divine Destination Collection and others help us dive deep, beyond the stereotypes, to experience the rich resonant culture of Mexico's Yucatan.
So the truth is, it was never a conscious thing not to go to Mexico. But now I admit, there might have been the odd stereotype in the way—I likely envisioned just all-inclusives. I no doubt pictured bachelorette soirees where most of the group missed the bus to Chichén Itzá and spent days over-communicating between tequila shots. Of course, there would be stunning beaches, but I’m not so much a sun and sand girl. I don’t think I’m a group travel girl and—definitely—I’m not really a resort girl. I mean, I’m an exploring kind of traveler. Who needs all that pampering?
So of course, when a friend invited me on a girls’ luxe spiritual bonding getaway to Mexico’s Riviera Maya, well, I had to say yes. I mean, what is travel if not an opportunity to challenge our hardened beliefs and to invite personal transformation. So, with such higher purpose in mind, Yo fui—which is to say in local parlance, I went.
Of all our senses, smell is the one most intimately linked to our memory and emotions. Studies have shown that even a subtle whiff of a certain scent can lift our mood, send a shiver of fear up our spine, or trigger a wave of nostalgia.
It’s no surprise, then, that we as individuals tend to associate specific smells with specific places—particularly places to which we feel a strong attachment. In this article for Matador Network, British expat Susannah Rigg describes the scents that remind her she’s home in Mexico.
Five ways Allison and Deb at The Divine Destination Collection mingle pampering with transformation.
