I crossed a lot of borders in 2025, and every place added something to the year, whether it was a moment, a feeling, or a shift in perspective. But as I’ve been looking back, I’ve noticed that a few places stayed with me in a different way. They stayed with me in quieter ways, showing up long after I had moved on and becoming part of my travel reflections as I made sense of a year that asked a lot from me.

Travel Reflections From Belonging in Japan

Japan was the place I returned to the most. Three times this year. Not chasing novelty, but finding comfort in familiarity. Each return felt less like arriving somewhere new and more like slipping back into a life that already knew my pace.

I started navigating less by landmarks and more by instinct and memory. Random konbini stops without thinking, ordering my tamago sando and karaage combo on autopilot, just like I used to on my way to work. The same train lines, the same stations, the same cities I once lived in, the same unspoken rules of the culture. Mornings felt structured without being rushed. I would walk with no real destination, letting muscle memory and routine guide me until I inevitably needed to pull out Google Maps…because let’s face it, I’m just not good at directions in any country.

What stayed with me most was how, even after the first few days of feeling emotionally heavy, distant even, Japan always found a way to remind me that I did belong. Familiar streets and routines, and people that met me where I was. Time with friends and family that carried no expectations; conversations that picked up right where they left off. All of these things left me wondering why I still haven’t moved back. 

Travel Reflections on Slowing Down in Portugal

Portugal slowed me down in a way I did not resist. Days opened up instead of closing in. I spent long stretches walking without urgency, letting streets repeat themselves, stopping for coffee and pastel de natas more than once in the same places simply because they felt familiar and satisfying.

At one point, that slowness turned into a solo road trip through northern Portugal. Long drives, quiet towns, stretches of road where nothing asked for my attention except the next turn. Afternoons slowly blurred into evenings, preparing me for a peaceful sleep. The hilled vineyards wrapped around the valley in the most graceful way. Meals lasted longer than necessary, without feeling rushed. Portugal did not demand anything of me; instead, it offered stillness without guilt, and my body responded before my mind could.

Travel Reflections From Quiet, Dark Days in Iceland

Iceland felt distant, yet intimate. Stripped back and quiet. The days were short, daylight limited, time compressed in a way that somehow made everything feel slower and faster, all at the same time. Cold air outside, warmth waiting inside. I spent most of my time cozying up in little cafés with a book, ducking into old used bookstores and record shops just to linger. The people were kind and welcoming, and I felt very safe walking around the city alone even in the dark.

Then there were the northern lights, the literal highlight of the trip. They were everything I hoped they would be and more. They started out green and distant, stretching across the sky, and quickly but smoothly, transformed into a beautifully synchronized dance of colors in the sky. It almost felt like a private show for my Haru and I. A true dream, one that finally came to fruition, and I got to bring my Haru with me, clung to my neck. I planned this trip to fall on the first anniversary of her death because her life is so worth celebrating.

Iceland held both ends at once. It was cold and warm, quiet and comforting. The landscapes were vast, breathtaking, and unfamiliar. But they steadied me, reminding me how small I am without making me feel lost.

Travel Reflections on Presence in Hong Kong

Hong Kong pulled me in immediately. Dense streets, constant motion, layers of sound and light. There was no drifting there. You either moved with the city or you learned quickly how to stand your ground.

Food was what led me in my Hong Kong journeys. Comforting classics I kept returning to, brand new dishes I’d never tried, and literal flavor explosions that I couldn’t believe. It was my first time in Hong Kong, but the food somehow brought some familiarity to me, making everything feel more grounded.

Between wandering busy streets and sitting down with comforting dishes, I met an old friend who took me around a bit and showed me some of the places he loved. Checking into my beautiful hotel overlooking Victoria Harbour, I felt pulled back into my body and into the present moment. Hong Kong overwhelmed me and steadied me at the same time, and my mouth is literally watering while typing this. I could really go for some claypot rice right about now. Phew.

This year took more than I expected.

It took energy in ways that added up quietly. Relationships changed, relationships ended, and connections were made. Old versions of me fell away—versions that once made sense but no longer fit the life I was actually living. I do not think those things were taken unfairly. Some parts of me were simply finished. And I had to learn that letting them go, no matter how uncomfortable, was necessary.

What the year left me with is less visible.

2025 left me with boundaries I used to feel guilty for needing. It left me with patience, especially with myself, in moments where I would have pushed harder or given up before. It gave me clarity about what I do not want, which has been more grounding than any clear plan for what comes next. Travel did not fix any of this. But these places carried me through it. They gave me room to sit with grief, acceptance, and exhaustion without needing to resolve them.

As 2026 approaches, I am not showing up with answers. I am not reinventing myself or closing this year with conclusions. I am moving forward carrying less—less urgency, less pressure, less attachment to lives that no longer fit.

I do not know where I am going next, geographically or otherwise. But I know the places that mattered this year did not demand change. They met me where I was and let me take what I needed.

For now, that feels like enough.

A note to you before you step into 2026

If this year asked more of you than you expected, I hope you found at least one place, physical or otherwise, that carried you through it. And if you’re stepping into 2026 without clarity, I hope you give yourself permission to move forward anyway, slowly, honestly, and on your own terms.