There was a time when I measured my life by the stamps in my passport.
Every new country represented possibility. Every boarding pass held the promise of an adventure waiting to unfold. Travel was never simply a hobby for me. It became my education, my career, my greatest passion, and eventually the inspiration behind My Beautiful Adventures.
For years, I thought those passport stamps were what made me a traveler.
Now I know they were only part of the story.
The Man Who Showed Me The World
Long before I ever boarded an international flight alone, there was my dad. He believed the world was meant to be explored.
Growing up, he encouraged curiosity. He taught me that every place has a story, every culture has something to teach us, and every journey changes us in ways we never expect.
Looking back, I realize he was not simply giving me vacations. He was giving me perspective. He was giving me confidence. He was giving me permission to be curious.
That gift shaped my entire life.
It led me to study Traditional Chinese Medicine in China, where I immersed myself in a completely different culture and language. It inspired countless adventures across more than 70 countries. It even led me to Argentina, where I met the man who would eventually become my husband.
When I think about it that way, I realize something beautiful.
Travel did not just change my life.
It created it.
A Different Season
This year has looked nothing like the years before it.
Instead of planning trips, I have been navigating grief after losing my dad. Instead of researching destinations, I have been recovering from surgery. Instead of chasing flights, I have been learning how to heal.
If I am honest, there have been moments when I wondered whether I was losing a part of myself. Who was I if I was not constantly planning the next adventure? Could I still call myself a travel photojournalist if I was not traveling as often?
Those questions sat quietly in my heart for months.
Until something unexpected happened.
Watching My Son Pack His Passport
This past week, my son Joaquín left on a road trip with my mom to visit my brother in Philadelphia.
As I watched him get ready, something shifted inside me. I realized I was not feeling jealous that he was the one traveling now. I was excited. Genuinely excited! Because then it hit me. Maybe I am not collecting passport stamps right now. Maybe my greatest adventure is making sure Joaquín collects his.
And somehow, that realization brought me more peace than I expected.
The Greatest Souvenir
When I think about my own childhood, I do not remember every hotel. I do not remember every restaurant. I certainly do not remember every souvenir.
What I remember is how travel made me feel.
I remember the excitement of seeing a place I had only read about. I remember realizing that people could speak different languages, eat different foods, celebrate different traditions, and yet kindness looked remarkably similar everywhere I went.
Travel taught me empathy. It taught me humility. It taught me that the world is far bigger—and far more beautiful—than my own little corner of it.
Those lessons stayed with me long after the vacations ended.
That is the real souvenir.
My Dad’s Greatest Gift
The older I get, the more I realize that the greatest gifts parents leave their children are rarely things you can wrap with a ribbon. Sometimes they leave behind traditions. Sometimes they leave behind values. Sometimes they leave behind a way of seeing the world.
My dad gave me curiosity.
He taught me to say “yes” to adventures that felt a little scary. He showed me that some of life’s greatest moments happen when we step outside of what is familiar.
Now I find myself wanting to pass that exact same gift to Joaquin.
Not because I need him to become a travel blogger. Not because I want him to collect more passport stamps than I did. But because I want him to grow into someone who never stops wondering what lies beyond the next horizon.
Travel Looks Different Now
Maybe this simply is not my season to travel the way I once did. And that is okay. Life has seasons. Some are meant for exploring the world. Others are meant for healing your heart.
Right now, my adventures look different.
They are quieter. They happen over morning coffee. On walks with Panda. While writing stories that I hope help someone else feel a little less alone.
But I know this season will not last forever.
One day, I will board another plane. One day, there will be new passport stamps. New countries. New stories.
Until then, I have something just as meaningful to look forward to. Watching the world open itself to my son.
The Legacy Continues
One day, Joaquín may not remember every hotel we stayed in or every road trip we took. But I hope he remembers how it felt to be curious. How it felt to walk through a city he had never seen before. How it felt to wonder what was around the next corner.
Because those are the moments that stay with us. Those are the moments my dad gave me.
And if I can give Joaquín that same gift, then a part of my dad’s legacy continues—not through me retracing old journeys, but through a little boy discovering the world with the same sense of wonder that his grandfather once inspired in me.
Maybe that is what travel has always been about? Not collecting passport stamps. Collecting wonder.
And making sure it gets passed on…
