We’ve shut down, postponed vacations, and stayed indoors for many milestones, including honeymoons, graduations, and birthdays. But it’s time for a second chance now that the conclusion is in sight. It’s time to dream once more. to organize a family reunion, How We Celebrated: Our Favorite Trip Ideas for Major Milestones arrange an amazing road trip, How We Celebrated: Our Favorite Trip Ideas for Major Milestones or reserve that cruise. to remind ourselves that the purpose of travel is to celebrate the world, ourselves, and each other.
The road trip for graduation
I realized that this bond would last a lifetime when two business school friends danced to Michel Teló on a dance floor in İzmir. We decided to take a road trip in Turkey on a whim. We longed for cool nights, pauses at pomegranate-laden carts, and long journeys where we could chat for hours. Along the rocky Aegean coast, we discovered all of that. To get to the entrance of Bandırma, we took a ferry across the Marmara Sea; the rest was handled by a rented Peugeot.
We feasted on the luscious Memecik olives in Behramkale, the former home of Aristotle. We put our toes in bizarre travertine ponds at Pamukkale, an ancient mineral spa.We strolled along the columned Arcadian Way in Ephesus, one of the largest cities in the ancient world. At Istanbul’s Çemberlitaş Hamamı, a stunning bath, we washed away the dust from our trek and reveled in our newfound intimacy—a school relationship that had been solidified somewhere along the way. —Yulia Denisyuk
The honeymoon by yourself
One traveler learns to say “I do” to himself after being inspired by his friends’ beautiful postnuptial vacation in Kyushu.
I was in charge of everything. At precisely the correct moment in the afternoon, I had reached the Spa Ryokan Sanga in Kurokawa Onsen; the final group of visitors had already left, and the next group had not yet come. I put on my sandals, changed into my cotton yukata (bathrobe), and walked to a big round wooden hot tub in a wooded alcove with a view of a flowing river and a deserted footbridge. The outdoor space was flooded with komorebi, or light glimmering through the trees, as the sun sank. Travel magic at its best.
Upon returning from their 2018 honeymoon in Japan, friends of mine raved about Kurokawa Onsen, located in the Kyushu mountains. I stole their trip for me the next summer while they were in nearby Fukuoka on a work trip. Traveling alone is referred to as hitoritabi in Japanese. It coincided nicely with my upcoming 40th birthday. When you’re that age and unmarried, you realize that you might be the only special person in your life. The apparent answer is to incorporate celebration into your daily life.
I had traveled alone most of the time in sweatpants, which are always informal and resemble a shoulder shrug. I therefore drastically raised the stakes by asking a topic that singles frequently consider: Would you go on a honeymoon alone?
I took the most unforgettable breaths of my life in that tub because of it. Me and the world, me with the world, me in the world—it was a very personal moment. It’s astounding to me that the Japanese don’t have a phrase for the first full-body exhalation of a sumptuous holiday, despite having words for solitary travel and forest light. They ought should.
A ten-course supper followed the program. “For me?!” When the waitress, dressed in a kimono, led me to my private dining room, I squealed. Satisfied, I then warmed up at the firepit, where the copper basin was licked by flames. I would like to see honeymooners try sleeping like starfish.
At Ikoi Ryokan, I discovered an outdoor waterfall bath the following morning. I also purchased a koi tapestry from a small store there. However, the ryokan Yama no Yado Shinmeikan’s heated cave baths, with their glistening waters cascading down in a labyrinth of figure-eight loops, were my favorite location.
I had already taken off my clothing, but in the cave, I felt as though the burden of other concerns had also been lifted. These included my win-lose mentality, the impending middle age, and even the dormant demands of living in Japan, with its countless customs, bowing, and meticulously planned business card exchange. The journey suddenly became a pilgrimage to discover a new me—a man of opportunity rather than caution—because I had no one else to please but myself. Being naturally self-centered, you couldn’t really blame me for a little navel-gazing.
I suddenly relaxed and started yelling lyrics from the Little Mermaid song “Part of Your World.” “How many wonders can fit in a single cavern?” I sang. One only: this wonderful liberty.
When I awoke from my trance, I became aware that I was not alone. A group of young, muscular South Korean park guards on a team-building trip were there to watch my impressive performance. They were also nude.
I turned red. They cheered. We all chuckled and went to a nearby diner for fried horse-meat patties, which are a local specialty.
I know it’s not typical for honeymoons. or thefts. But maybe I may be the first to be honored among criminals. I was happy that I had consummated a party of one, a celebration of myself, on that bachelor’s honeymoon. — Morgan, Richard
The bachelorette cruise
My bachelorette celebration consisted of 1,900 strangers, 10 friends, lazy pool days, and no bar tab. The all-inclusive nature of Norwegian Cruise Line’s three-day Caribbean cruise, as well as the ease of gathering together throughout the day, were major factors in our crew’s decision. We snorkeled on Grand Bahama Island and explored Key West (where Ernest Hemingway’s six-toed cats were a huge success) after leaving the cruise. However,
my best memories were made on board, during unexpectedly private times, such as finding a peaceful upper deck to sunbathe on or moving the furniture at the bars to accommodate everyone.For a group of people in their early 30s, the cruise was the perfect adult retreat. It allowed us to indulge our inner children by singing along to karaoke and enjoying late-night soft serve and fries.
Was this the eighth incident? The fifth night out? The seventh cake? The 42nd garland of flowers? I eventually came to accept the happy turmoil and quit counting.
Jet-lagged and sleep-deprived, I spent the last few hours of my cousin’s wedding in Hyderabad, India. In India, the term “wedding” frequently refers to a sequence of ceremonies that take place over several days rather than just one ceremony; in this instance, Saad and Farah’s celebrations started two weeks ago in San Francisco, which is 8,000 miles away. By now, the parties, the singing, the day-who-knows-what and the giggling was blending into a single, never-ending round of celebration. Saad laughed and remarked, “I had to ask my boss for a month off just to get married.” And the honeymoon was not even included in that.
Weddings are more than just a celebration of love when your family is dispersed over the globe—mine is in Saudi Arabia, India, Texas, California, and Massachusetts. They also serve as a justification for a spectacular family reunion. We all begin planning our flights as soon as a wedding is announced.
When I boarded a plane to San Francisco on Christmas Day of 2019, JFK was empty, so I took advantage of my final moments of peace before starting a hectic three-week journey. Even Nevertheless, the most memorable parts of a traditional wedding were the joyful moments that took place in between the ceremonies. We started the celebrations with a manja party, where we all took turns slathering Saad’s face with turmeric paste. He then pursued each of us around the house to repay us. I did my best to encourage my clumsy cousins to embrace their inner Bollywood stars at the 3 a.m. dance sessions. Noura, my sister,
She is getting ready in the car for her amazing performance of Etta James’s “At Last” at the vibrant pre-wedding event known as the sanchak-mehndi, which is full of dancing and music. I was beaming with pleasure as Saad and his thirty groomsmen flawlessly executed the planned entrance that we had been practicing in the foyer for only a few minutes.
On the day of the wedding, the dhol player led our raucous groom’s procession, or baraat, through the Fairmont San Jose’s exquisite hallways. Nine of us crammed onto a bed and painted each other’s faces with Kiehl’s masks on an improvised spa night. We were driving around Hyderabad looking for midnight ice cream when the Texan groom started playing country music. Getting to the royal walima early,
In order to make time for family portraits under the Durbar Hall chandeliers before the guests arrived, my aunt and uncle threw a reception at the 18th-century Chowmahalla Palace. The following morning, over breakfast, we looked through the local newspapers to see those portraits in the society pages.
During the three-week celebration, there were many other anniversaries to recognize, and the bride and groom were delighted to share the limelight. For example, an evening of qawwali music celebrated the engagement of the groom’s brother Zafar to Sheema, and surprise cakes commemorated three birthdays and an anniversary.
We intended to repeat the entire process in six months when we left Hyderabad in January of last year. Instead, I got up at four in the morning to witness the live-streamed nikah, an Islamic ceremony, from India when Sheema and Zafar got married in July. In December, we all got back together on Zoom for a smaller celebration of the couple in Dubai.
My main concern before to last year was that we would ultimately run out of relatives’ weddings to use as justification for gathering. I now realize that I must take advantage of any opportunity to see my relatives, whether it be for weddings or not. I’m eager to schedule that flight, but first, 2021 owes us a second chance with Zafar and Sheema. —Sarah Khan
The honeymoon
Before applying a mask of hot wildflower honey and extra virgin olive oil to my face, the esthetician murmured, “Don’t worry if it gets in your mouth—it’s edible.” The coldness of a rose quartz wand performing a lymphatic drainage massage added to the wonderful sensation. My husband and I had made the perfect decision by booking a final pre-baby vacation at the Canyon Ranch Woodside resort, which is 45 minutes from San Francisco, and making it a wellness-focused stay. The peace and quiet of this enticing location, nestled in a lacy redwood forest, was undeniable even to me, a devoted beach bum.
Equipped with a smooth schedule (a program adviser assists in creating each visitor’s voyage), we strolled slowly through the quiet forest, painted with watercolors, gazed at the pink skies from the wraparound balcony, and snuggled up for discussions about being in the moment. The food, which came from nearby regenerative farms, was expertly portioned, and it was the first time I had ever exclaimed,
“I’ll have it all!” without feeling guilty about it. I had a guilt-free prenatal massage as well. After thirty weeks, my infant served as a gauge for my level of relaxation; the more calm I was, the more she kicked. She wriggled in gratitude as fingers moved up and down my spine, pulling out knots. A happy baby meant happy parents on this trip. —Romyn Kathryn.
The vacation with the mother-daughter
A holiday cruise on the Danube provides the perfect balance for one tourist and her equally stubborn mother.
At The Sound of Music, I had her. My mother’s fondness for a movie that she had been able to recite since she was a child led us to make our final choice after weeks of attempting to narrow down our travel itinerary. Another factor was a shared desire to see European Christmas markets.
For nearly twenty years, my mother and I have taken trips together. She now has so many souvenir magnets that it’s hard to tell what color her refrigerator is. As a kind of peace pact between two stubborn beings, we agreed to get together annually at a different location when I moved to New York to work in Los Angeles. She responds with “down” when I say “up,” but we always meet in the middle for travel. We have an insatiable curiosity and love of new things, including delicious meals.
We arrived at Munich’s airport at three in the morning for our latest reunion. Our bodies were cleared of jet lag by the chilly winds. We started our seven-day trip on an AmaWaterways Danube River cruise, which included stops in Germany, Hungary, Slovakia, and Austria, at the port at Vilshofen a der Donau after a lengthy bus ride. My Sound of Music-mad mother would eventually visit Basilika St. Michael in Mondsee, the location of Maria and Baron Georg Von Trapp’s marriage, and Mirabell Gardens in Salzburg, the location of Julie Andrews’ enduringly catchy performance of “Do-Re-Mi.
It was easy to forget that this was a romance-themed cruise because of the melodic top notes. The Christmas present we never realized we needed was watching couples from all around the world perform the inebriated waltz and wobbly dance to Dolly Parton.
My mother and I participated in movie evenings, spinning classes on deck, beer tastings, and as many buffets as our bellies could eat while on board. Passau, where we caught a glimpse of the elaborate St. Stephen’s Cathedral, was one of the small German cities I had never heard of. We also sailed past hillside vineyards and medieval villages. We split a platter of bratwurst and frankfurters at Leo Würstelstand, one of Vienna’s oldest sausage stands, and sunk our forks into a slice of apple strudel topped with whipped cream at Café Landtmann. We ascended the old Buda Castle in Budapest to enjoy the breathtaking vistas.
then treated ourselves to Hungarian chimney cake, a sugar-dusted cylindrical bread that is fluffy in the center and crispy on the exterior, and cinnamon-spiced mulled wine. We finished the evening at Szimpla Kert, one of Budapest’s oldest ruin bars, in the Jewish district. Not even the cold weather could stop us. Salvaged furniture, including bathtubs for bar patrons to relax in, was scattered around the multi-level haunt.
Naturally, the Christmas markets lived up to our expectations: a riot of glittering lights and ornaments, the smell of roasted chestnuts, and the warmth of strangers. We were handed warm rum punches in boot-shaped mugs adorned with snowflakes, and we giggled at the burning jolt inside our chests that came from consuming too many of them. These boots are now on my mother’s windowsill in Los Angeles, across from her magnet-covered fridge. They are all cheesy, vibrant mementos of our dedication to honoring travel and one another, even if it requires compromising. $2,899 per individual
Any age can have a birthday.
My spouse and I made the decision to switch from long-distance birthday travel to on-the-ground trips in order to lessen our carbon footprint. In keeping with that, we recently traveled from our Zurich home to Samedan’s Mineralbad & Spa, situated in a plaza from an Alpine village from the 12th century, for a wellness weekend. Although the soak was enlightening, the unexpected high point—and a contemplative diversion from fast travel—was our three-hour journey on the Rhaetian Railway. One of just five trains in the world to be listed by UNESCO, it was constructed in 1889.
Its 84 tunnels and 383 bridges allow its cherry red carriages to rattle by cerulean glaciers, mesmerizing waterfalls, and skeletal massifs. Roman Celtic remains and Swabian strongholds are among the sights that span a thousand years of history. The Land wasser Viaduct rumble was particularly spectacular. As we raced around a dead man’s curve, I opened the window from my corduroy seat in the Pullman car, crossed the 213-foot-high, snow-covered bridge, and plunged into a tunnel carved out of the rock. Who says you can’t appreciate physics without flying?
The 16th birthday
My birthday has never held any significance for me. It’s an annual affair that I would rather pass without much fanfare; you can blame it on social anxiety. But whenever someone reaches sixteen, my family insists on throwing a massive party. Despite my objections, my parents leased a five-bedroom beach house called Breakers Pointe in Galveston, a windy Gulf coast town almost four hours from our Dallas home, for my sixteenth birthday. As long as you stay away from the tourist traps, Galveston combines a relaxed vibe with the warmth of Texas, both physically and figuratively.
Bunk beds, board games, and appropriately tacky vacation-home accessories like palm tree lights and anchor decorations were all over the place. Family members from all generations came and went during the week, some staying the entire period and others just staying for one night. My cousin Raghav traveled in from San Francisco, and my dad’s older brother drove here from Houston. There were almost twenty-five persons at one point. We spent our days taking walks on San Luis Beach and attending dance parties after themed dinners (Bollywood! Tacos!). My first full glass of wine was enjoyable. Since then, I’ve chased down the memories of that trip on every birthday, and I’ve never been more enchanted by a coastal town.
The 50th birthday celebration
Organizing the mass relocation of 22 middle-aged parents from New York and London to Mexico City without revealing the secret to your beloved friend requires a great deal of cunning. The hours of covert emailing and group texting in the weeks before this moment were worth it only for her surprise when she saw her own flash mob waiting at Terminal 4 Gate 11 at JFK. In order to avoid wasting time reaching an agreement regarding dinner preferences or art tastes, you should also organize your days like an ambassador’s attaché. For example, you could go from a private tour of the National Anthropology Museum’s quetzal-feather headdresses to Entremar for some tart red-and-green whole snapper.
From a stall crawl across Jamaica market for elote and chicharrones to a conga line through Kahlo and Rivera’s vibrantly painted La Casa Azul. There is room on this trip for the memorable unplanned, such as the thankfully uneventful earthquake that left us all dreaming of our children discovering that their parents had died together. Or when a brave, pomaded young man took us one by one to the dance floor at the Salón San Luis, a traditional, velvet-curtained salsa bar, where we felt so very good in our shoes even though we never forgot that we had reached the halfway point of our lives.
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