The Journey Before the Journey

There’s something curious that happens every time we start planning a long international adventure. We pour ourselves into the research process: we read dozens of blogs, binge countless YouTube videos, scroll endlessly through travel forums, and ask friends and family who have already been there for every tip they can think of. We dive so deeply into learning about these places that it almost becomes a second job.

And yet . . . even with all of that intentional effort, there’s this strange and wonderful feeling that we’re not entirely the ones steering the ship. Yes, the first steps are ours - choosing the region, deciding where to base ourselves, and how long to stay in each country - but once those basics are set, something interesting begins to happen - it’s as if the trip begins planning itself.

We gather ideas like puzzle pieces scattered on a table - not yet knowing which ones will fit together. But bit by bit, a picture starts to form. One discovery leads to another . . . and another . . . until suddenly, what began as a blank calendar becomes an incredible journey filled with experiences we never could have imagined when we started.

The itinerary takes shape almost organically - the more we explore, the more it reveals. It’s like the trip has a mind of its own: certain destinations insist on being included. Others quietly fall away. Unexpected opportunities pop up, as if the universe is whispering, “This way . . . not that way.”

And before we realize it, we’re stepping back in awe thinking, Wow . . . look what this trip has become.

As we’ve been planning our upcoming trip to Asia, I’ve become completely captivated by the coastlines of Vietnam and Thailand. The limestone karsts rising straight out of the water look like small, craggy mountain ranges emerging from the sea - both breathtaking and surreal. I can’t wait to see them in person. I’ve watched so many videos and scrolled through countless photos, and each time I’m still struck by their incredible beauty.

The areas where these karsts appear are also known for amazing snorkeling and scuba diving - crystal-clear waters and marine life that looks almost otherworldly. It’s a big part of what makes these places feel so magical and alive.

I bring this up because a few nights ago, I had a vivid dream that I was snorkeling in the waters of Ha Long Bay in northern Vietnam - a stunning place we’ll be visiting, filled with towering karsts and impossibly clear water. In that dream, it felt so startlingly real that when I woke up, I felt as if I had just climbed out of the sea and was still staring back at those views. The line between imagination and reality blurred in the most beautiful way.

And this isn’t the first time I’ve had a dream like that before a trip. It’s as though the journey begins weaving itself into my mind long before we even pack our bags. After watching so many videos, scrolling through street views, reading stories from other travelers, I start to feel like I’ve already walked the markets, tasted the food, and ridden the metro systems. I can almost smell the night air, hear the traffic, feel the cultural pulse of places we’ve yet to stand in. It’s like I get to experience our trip twice: first in the imagination - fully immersed in anticipation. Then in reality - richer and deeper because I’ve already formed a connection.

So many people don’t think of planning as fun. They see it as “a means to an end” - a checklist before the real experience begins. But for us, planning is one of the joys of the journey. It’s a long, slow unfolding of possibility. It’s the beginning of the adventure - the prologue to the story we’re about to live. It’s part discovery, part storytelling, part daydreaming.

If you’ve ever planned a long, multi-month trip with total focus and curiosity - you know exactly what I’m talking about. There’s a kind of magic to it - a collaboration between the travelers and the trip itself. You start by choosing the adventure . . . and then somehow, the adventure starts choosing you. There’s something beautiful about watching a blank calendar transform into a living, breathing journey.

One of the most important parts of this phase is learning to listen to the “voice” of your journey. We’ve discovered over time that even though it looks like Carla and I are the ones doing the planning, there is a third entity involved - and that’s the trip itself. Its voice isn’t always loud or obvious, but it’s undeniably there: a sudden hunch, a gut instinct, a passing comment you overhear about the very place you’ve been considering. Little nudges that say, “Yes - this way.”

So, as we map out our upcoming travels through Southeast Asia and Japan, we’re leaning into a strategy that feels surprisingly aligned with the teachings of the Buddha: stay fully engaged and curious . . .  yet detached enough to remain the observer. Let the path reveal itself. Let the adventure tell you what it wants to be.

Because that’s the beauty of this stage - It’s the journey before the journey, where possibility takes its first breath, and the future begins to quietly unfold inside you.