Reflections on 2020: Transforming Through Loss, and the Future of Travel
I began the first few minutes of 2020 looking out of my hotel window in Seattle at fireworks that never happened. I had champagne in one hand and a gourmet chocolate in the other after having just completed a 100 workout challenge, with the 100th workout ending at 9:47pm. Everything was supposed to be perfect. As insignificant as it sounds now with this horror of a year that befell the world, I truly feel the non-existent fireworks were an ominous sign of the disappointment to come.
I can feel the exact moment in late January 2020 when a coworker at a networking event, spotting my hesitation to eat, said to me: “It’s ok. The virus isn’t here. It isn’t in this space.” Less than two months later, the virus had taken over the world. 2020 has been a drumbeat of disappointment and destruction, from the virus’ merciless death toll, to the unnecessary tragedy of George Floyd, to the carelessness of Beirut’s explosion. I was in a deep sadness over George Floyd and when I reached the surface enough to carry on, Beirut exploding brought me back down again.
Yet despite these heart-wrenching tragedies, this was the first time in my life that I taught myself how to thrive. I feel more grateful to be alive and more in tune with my purpose in life than ever. I redesigned my entire life with the very little resources I had. Writing is my life, and I’ve planned my life and career to have space for that. Being thankful for my next breath led to days and months of humility, simplicity, and modesty.
I’ve spoken to my parents two-hundred and ninety times since the shelter in place began in March. I’ve cried over the fact that I’m not there to grocery shop for them, thousands of miles away. A nice man from their church brings them food when they need it and I pray the universe grants him a long and healthy life. We find ways to carry on. I’ve learned that nothing matters in this world except for kindness. It helps you wrap your arms around the entire world when all you want to do is give up. Kindness, and the universal desire for connections, is what made a tourist from China take the beautiful coral scarf off of her neck and place it around mine as a gift, as I helped her years ago in SF’s Fisherman’s Wharf. Her words “for you” were more heartfelt than any “thank you” I’ve ever heard in my life.
As a travel writer, I must speak on this kindness which guides the traveler and the human spirit. More than a search for relaxation and self-care, travel has profound meaning for broadening our worlds and creating purpose and insight. The search for kindness and community will continue to extend with travel. In my opinion, the industry will take on a whole different look in 2021 and beyond as it adapts to the lessons we’ve learned from this pandemic. Travelers will be drawn to more authentic experiences in smaller, unique communities. Quality experiences have always mattered while traveling, but they will take on broader meanings. Tourists will always seek out fine dining, as they should, but they’ll also seek out quality “farm-to-table” experiences more than ever before. We’ve spent the last nine months cooking at home, and you can’t “untaste” a home-cooked meal that’s done right. We’ll be expecting that taste when the world opens up. Unfortunately, so many small businesses have lost their footing during this pandemic, forever closing their doors. I still believe in due time that locally-grown ingredients in the small mom and pop settings will one day flourish. (The rich, small-batch hot chocolate I had while visiting local market, Miracle Plum in Sonoma, for example, is STILL on my mind now as I write about local ingredients).
We’ll remember the small businesses that went above and beyond in ways we learned to appreciate during the pandemic, and search for more like them. For example, I’ll never buy another jar of jam from a supermarket again after patronizing LaLa’s Jam Bar. The attention and kindness she showed me and her returning customers when I visited showed a side of retail that isn’t like the retail I’ve known. There’s been a shift and we don’t want to go back. Of course the crowds will return in due time for big events, but we can’t “unexperience” the sheer bliss of smaller, low key outings. I can’t wait to return to my favorite hotel in Seattle, yet I’m exploring smaller bed and breakfasts in other destinations that don’t need to entertain so many guests. Why am I so brazen in my optimism? Well, collectively, we’ve spent hundreds of days seeking a way out of our discomfort while also gaining an appreciation of good company, good food, and of ourselves. We’ve had moments of reckoning. Many of us have profoundly changed. We’ve even said it out loud: “I’m a different person.”
As for the future of international travel, that is not my area of expertise. I leave those musings for the world travel experts. I can say that the places my travel writing mentors are planning for 2021 and beyond are extraordinarily rich with culture and community, not rich in luxurious ways. And that influences local travel in turn. I can’t help but follow the aroma of seasonal farmers market fruits to the small towns and bakeries that use their products, or explore the mountainous coastlines where local honey is made. So yes, local travel will be alive and well as we progress towards the end of 2021.
I’m six hours away from ending this year quite differently than how I began, with my herbal tea at midnight instead of champagne, as those around me toast the night away. Before we celebrate here, I’ll video chat with my parents as the ball drops in Times Square. Everything changed around us but that routine.
Transforming through loss is a conscious choice to thrive and always concentrate on the good. New Years Eve is also the night I wear my coral-colored scarf. I wear it only on special occasions.
