Roxy and I thrive in radically different scenery, and that’s why Asia calls to us. It feels like a true escape, leaving the Western world far behind. In Shanghai, we sensed the unmistakable Western encroachment—clothing, cuisine, history, and architecture—a cultural Molotov cocktail. But once we set foot in Vietnam, everything familiar vanishes, and that’s where the thrill lies for us. The dramatic scenery floods our minds with all that Vietnam was, is, and can become in our storybook imaginations.

Traveling around the continent, my sweetheart Brian and I eat beautifully inventive fresh food caught, farmed or ranched less than 45 kilometers away of where we are dining.  And that is a surprise, because let’s face it, food isn’t the first thing you think of when you travel to Australia. Koalas, yes. Food, no.  

The journey begins with a nine-hour flight from Los Angeles to Santiago, Chile, followed by a four-hour flight from Santiago to Punta Arenas (commuter jet, feared for our lives), and now, Roxy and I are told that we have a four-hour van ride ahead of us on the “Ruta de Fin del Mundo” (route to the end of the world). Roxy sums up the arduous journey by asking, “What do you think we’ll experience first? The end of the world or check-in?”

For the first time in my life, I’m traveling solo and discovering that I like it. I’ve chosen to stay at Tierra Chiloé in the archipelago off the coast of Chile, just a two-hour flight from Santiago. The staff caters to your every whim.

It’s late October when our plane touches down in Calama, the trailhead to Chile’s Atacama Desert, the driest nonpolar desert in the world. Our driver takes us past lithium and copper mines, ramshackle houses, dusty hills, wind farms, and rows of solar panels.

The King George Hotel and its next door neighbor The Grand Bretagne are gleaming monuments to the best of modern Greek architecture and opulence. White marble floors and elegant furnishings are as polished and pretty as the fashionable Greek women who lunch at Grand Bretagne’s open-air rooftop restaurant. This is where Roxy and I take in stunning views of the Acropolis alongside our first Athenian meal of Greek salad and seabass.

If Tulum was a lady, she’d be a flower child dancing with outstretched arms on the sand. This is the bohemian feeling we conjure as we breathe in the balmy air, watch palm trees swaying and listen to waves crashing. Our hotel, The Panamera, lies behind us, and thousands of miles back, all the pandemic fears. We’ve taken three weeks out of time before we have to plunge back into our reality: isolation and mask wearing. For now, we are savoring the freedom of being here.

Two months in isolation—that’s what it’s been since we went shelter-in-place in Santa Fe. With states opening up this month, we decided it was high time to get out of the house and see America. Roxy and I have been all over the world, from Mongolia to Marrakesh, but for self-proclaimed world travelers, we have seen very little of our beloved backyard—the southwest. It only took a little googling to discover that The “Mighty Five” parks of Utah are in driving distance, more or less operational, and a great way to be in nature. So, that’s where we set our sites for a 10-day trip.