Mindful Travel And What It Really Means

Last week I went on a walk with a business buddy and we were chatting about our work lives and filling each other in on what was new. I began to share with her some of the “whys” around what I do. In her tongue and cheek way, she noted it sounded a lot like a possible blog post. I agreed with her–so here it is. 

In a post that I shared recently, I talked about what it means to be a global traveller—not just a tourist ticking boxes off a list, but someone who shows up in the world with curiosity, openness, and respect. If you haven’t read it yet, go check it out. That share was all about mindset. This one? This one expands on some of the ideas I listed in the post and is all about action.

Because here’s the truth: travel is a privilege. Full stop. And if we’re lucky enough to be doing it, especially for work (shout out to my fellow travel industry folks), then we have a responsibility to think about the impact we leave behind. Not in a guilty, buzzkill way, but in a conscious, grown-up kind of way. A way that says: I love this world, and I want to leave it better than I found it. Or at least, not worse.

So let’s talk about some simple, very doable ways we can travel better. Each of these comes straight from experience—mine, my clients', and maybe yours, too.

1. Stay in locally owned hotels instead of big chains

Look, I get it. There’s a certain comfort in rolling up to a hotel where the pillows, the coffee, and the check-in process are exactly the same no matter which part of the world it is in. But when we default to the big chains, we miss out on something way more valuable: connection.

When I was in Sorrento last May, I stayed in this tiny, family-run boutique hotel perched on the side of the cliff just in front of the marina. The sisters that owned and ran it had the most incredible staff. Donatella, our morning server, personally made breakfast every morning (and by breakfast, I mean lemon cake and espresso strong enough to rewire my nervous system). They knew everyone in town and pointed me towards the best family owned restaurants that they ate in–that I would have likely walked right past. There was nothing polished or corporate about any of them. They were so real. And it reminded me why I travel in the first place.

Staying local means your money goes to people who live there. It means jobs stay in the community. It means you’re a guest, not a consumer. And yeah, sometimes the Wi-Fi is spotty. But you’re in Italy. Go outside, and have an Aperol Spritz.

2. Choose to work with local guides and local DMCs

This one’s for my fellow travel pros: Our relationships matter. Who we choose to partner with sends a message about our values.

When I brought a client group to Marrakesh last September, we stayed in an incredible boutique property that not only employs locals, but also created a non-profit humanitarian organization that supports young girls in helping to eliminate child marriages. . We chose to dine in a women owned and run restaurant, and had the most incredible meal. We had a wonderful guide that took us all over the city to its historical sights, and then also took many of the women out on a shopping excursion in the maze-like souks.

Could we have hired a big international company to run the whole thing? Sure. Would it have been as good? Not a chance. Local guides don’t just show you the sights. They let you into the story. And that kind of connection? It’s what people remember.

3. Eat at restaurants that source ingredients locally

You haven’t really eaten somewhere until you’ve eaten what they eat. Not what the hotel buffet serves, not what’s on the Instagram-famous menu. I’m talking about the local stuff—the stuff that tastes like the place itself.

In Sorrento, that meant anchovies that were literally caught that morning, fried and then served in a giant bowl that are eaten like french fries. Heads and tails and all. Lemons the size of my face. Pasta made by someone’s nonna, not a machine. It wasn’t fancy. It was fresh, it was real, and it supported the people who are actually feeding the community.

Same goes for Marrakesh, where we sat cross-legged on rugs eating tagine that simmered for hours while the call to prayer echoed through the city. The bread was baked in the communal village oven. The mint in the tea? Picked right before we drank it.

Choosing places that source locally helps reduce carbon emissions (no need to ship strawberries across an ocean), but even more importantly, it keeps traditional foodways alive. And let’s be honest, food is half the reason most of us travel anyway.

4. Support local artisans instead of mass-produced souvenirs

I know, I know. It’s easy to grab a tee shirt, a tote bag or a magnet at the airport and call it a day. But what if your souvenirs actually meant something?

In Marrakesh, several of my clients bought handwoven rugs straight from the families who make them. Not from a reseller. Not from a store with air conditioning and a Visa logo in the window. From a cooperative where the money went directly to the maker.

Was it more expensive than something mass-produced? A little. But it came with a story, and a memory, and a real impact. That’s worth a lot more than all the keychains made in China.

Supporting local artisans helps preserve culture. It keeps traditional crafts from disappearing under the weight of globalization. And bonus: you get to bring home something unique, not the same thing everyone else picked up at Duty Free.

5. Be aware of over-tourism and consider off-the-beaten-path destinations

Here’s a hard truth: sometimes, our presence does more harm than good. Places like Venice, Barcelona, and Bali are drowning in tourists. And while we all want to see the iconic stuff, we have to ask ourselves: at what cost?

Instead of adding to the crowd, consider going somewhere less known. That doesn’t mean skipping the bucket list entirely, but maybe it means doing it differently. In Sorrento, it means eating in restaurants and shopping in stores that barely make the guidebooks. No crowds, no tour buses, just the most gorgeous sandals handmade by Roberto, and lemony clam linguine in the tiniest restaurant in town.

There is magic outside the hotspots. And when we spread our attention (and money) around, we help take pressure off the places that are struggling under the weight of too many visitors.

Here’s the thing: being mindful doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being aware. It means asking better questions. It means doing your best with the info you have.

I’m not saying you have to swear off air travel or start hand-spinning your own luggage. I’m saying: pay attention. Think about where your money goes. Think about who benefits from your presence. And remember that travel isn’t just about what you get from a place—it’s about what you leave behind, too.

If this resonates with you, if you’re a woman (like me) in your 40s or beyond who's been around long enough to know that deeper connection beats curated perfection every single time—then you’re in the right place. This is the kind of travel that feels good in your bones. And if that’s what you’re after, let’s keep the conversation going.

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Let’s travel like it matters. Because it does.