In January 2024, I arrived at a friend’s farmhouse in Costa Rica. It was the start of a six-week stay that kicked off what I intended to be a year packed with international travel. Stops back home in Canada, and a trip to Argentina had already been penciled in.
At the time, I didn’t realize that moving forward, that trip would quietly replace New Year’s resolutions altogether.
For those six weeks, I settled into rural rhythms. I woke just as the sunlight turned golden, watching green parrots glide overhead. I visited a ranch where locals rode horses and practiced lassoing. I ran up steep country roads, ate the area’s famous chicharrón (a success), and tried to milk a cow (a colossal failure).
The experience was phenomenal. But one evening, as I cooked a simple meal in San José, a pang of homesickness hit me. I found myself thinking about my chosen home of Cuenca, Ecuador — the familiar parks, my apartment, my regular running route.
The more I thought about it, the clearer it became: My wanderlust had been satisfied. I wasn’t craving reinvention. Instead, I was ready to return home.
Travel reveals more than rash New Year’s Eve goals
That January trip set the tone for my year more effectively than any New Year’s resolution ever had. I returned to Cuenca with clarity and spent the year deepening my roots there. I made new friends, took up Pilates, and built a routine that felt grounding rather than restless.
In previous years, I’d set ambitious goals on January 1, only to abandon them weeks later — foggy from holiday excess and disconnected from what I actually wanted.
This time was different. By stepping away first, I stopped obsessing over starting somewhere new and learned how to recognize the difference between restlessness and genuine curiosity.
The trip was so clarifying that I decided to make it a habit. I now schedule a trip at the beginning of each year and wait to reflect on my goals afterward.
Last year, that reset meant spending time on Ecuador’s coast. I rented a small cabin and focused on writing projects. I developed a list of story ideas, wrote several essays, and sold them over the course of the year.
With distance from my regular routine, I gained perspective — and a renewed appreciation for the life I’d already chosen.
There’s a strong case to be made that travel can be a better catalyst for clear goal-setting than the disorienting comedown that follows a month of social overload, overspending, late nights, and heavy food.
Keeping travel realistic
If your 2026 resolution has already fizzled — and most do — it may not be a discipline problem so much as a timing one. The year is still young, and clarity doesn’t always arrive on January 1.
Travel is how I start the year with intention, but I’m not talking about lavish vacations or luxury hotels. Unless you can afford that, in which case — love that for you.
Travel can feel lofty or far-fetched if you let it. Or it can be practical and affordable with a little creativity.
During my Costa Rica stay, I lived with a friend and split costs on road trips. In Ecuador, I rented a small cabin for $250 a month.
Trekking in Ecuador
Just days after welcoming 2026, I packed trekking poles into my backpack and boarded a bus headed north in Ecuador.
For three days, my brother and I trekked through small Andean towns, walking across terrain where potato crops cling defiantly to craggy cliffs and women in crisp hats tend to flocks of bleating sheep. We climbed along the edge of a gorge that splits this part of the Andes in two.
We barely passed another person as we made our way toward a volcano that holds a turquoise lake deep inside its crater.
Somewhere along a green ridgeline, my focus for the year crystallized. I knew I needed more of this — more adventure, more nature, more challenge — and far less of what didn’t come close.
That’s why I no longer try to reinvent my life on January 1. I let the year speak to me first. By the time February arrives, I’m not chasing resolutions, I’m responding to clarity I’ve already earned.
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