Well and Wandered: How the Pandemic Changed My Travels and My Life

Hi, I’m Deb — a writer, explorer, and seeker of meaningful connection. I created Well and Wandered to share the stories and reflections that emerge from my travels — especially the kind of travel that changes you. This piece looks back on the journeys I’ve taken since the pandemic, a time that reshaped how and why I explore. It’s a reflection on what’s guided me, what I’ve learned, and how my relationship with the world — and myself — has deepened along the way.

When the World Reopened, So Did I

The pandemic prompted me to fulfill my lifelong dream of traveling. I have always valued travel, and I’ve always prioritized it. However, following the lockdown, I felt a new sense of urgency — a pull toward distant places and unfamiliar cultures. I craved exploration and adventure.

As restrictions lifted, I began planning the “bucket list” trips I had long dreamed of: an African safari to witness the Great Migration and go gorilla trekking; a journey through Israel, Egypt, and Jordan to explore ancient sites; a spiritual retreat in Bali; a cruise along Norway’s coast to the Arctic Circle to see the Northern Lights; and New York City at Christmas. When the world began to open up, I wanted my world to expand.

The Beauty in Beginnings

Some of the most notable trips were the ones that happened immediately after areas reopened. The break in tourism had allowed natural areas to reset and wildlife to thrive. Cities, villages, and tourist regions welcomed visitors with open arms — eager locals grateful for the economic boost and the return of social energy.

These moments of purity were delicate and fleeting, like the first buds of spring. Tourism surged quickly — almost like an invasive species — overwhelming communities and making it harder for those gentle moments to peek through the overgrowth.

I feel incredibly lucky to have experienced that brief bloom in all its fragile beauty. Those adventures rooted something in me. They became a foundation, fostering growth and reflection.

A New Way of Seeing

Now, as travel accelerates, I know better than to seek profound moments in the noise and crush of over-touristed hotspots. Instead, I search for them in smaller, quieter spaces — places that allow for ease, where something delicate might still bloom.

I find them in conversations with locals, in immersion with nature. I know to look in ski towns during summer, in Scandinavian cities during winter, on weekdays in spring or fall, and in small towns off the main roads. There’s something magical to be found within the ease of these spaces.

This search for clarity and connection has changed how I travel — and deepened my relationship with the places I visit and the people I meet.

The Luxury of Simplicity

These days, I plan my trips around the off and shoulder seasons. I prioritize authentic experiences over tourist attractions. I value time in nature, and I’ve found no greater luxury than ease and comfort in a wild, remote, beautiful space.

I seek out culture, and I find no greater joy than discovering our differences through the lens of our shared humanity.

Traveling for Good

Throughout this journey, I’ve also come to understand the real good that can come from travel. I’ve helped an injured lion receive medical treatment, supported a community center in Uganda in gaining access to much-needed power, and made lasting friendships with people across the world — bridging cultures and building connection.

Of course, travel isn’t without harm. Unfair economic systems, environmental degradation, overcrowding, and the flattening of local culture are real risks. But when done with care, curiosity, and respect, travel can become a force for mutual benefit — enriching not only those who journey, but also the communities that welcome them.

Travel as a Mirror

As my travels have evolved, so have I. I’ve learned about myself and the world. I’ve nurtured relationships and gathered stories I’ll carry for a lifetime.

Whether it’s a bucket-list adventure with my mom, a romantic getaway with my husband, a trip of discovery with my daughters, or a carefree time with friends, travel has enriched my life by bringing me closer to the people I love.

It was that connection — with people and place — that created the sense of urgency I felt for travel in the wake of the pandemic. Over time, that urgency softened into a slow hunger — one that continues to guide me.

As I’ve journeyed far and wide over the last five years, I’ve become more committed than ever to travel as a form of exploration and connection. But this connection no longer depends on a map or itinerary. It grows from within. With each journey, it becomes more courageous and insightful. It travels with me, wherever I go.

From “Be Well Travel Light” to “Well and Wandered”

In November 2020, as my commitment to travel deepened, I came up with the idea to start sharing my experiences online. I launched a website and Instagram account called Be Well Travel Light.

During a cross-country road trip with my mom, we spent some time at Civana, a wellness resort and spa in Carefree, Arizona. While there, the words kept floating through my mind like a mantra: Be… Well… Travel… Light… I loved the idea of combining them into something meaningful: Be Well, Travel Light.

But over time, I struggled to publish content. After attending a writer’s retreat with Cheryl Strayed, I realized one of the reasons I couldn’t move forward: I couldn’t be Be Well Travel Light. The problem was the “Be.” In theory, I loved it. But in practice, it felt like a directive — telling people what to do. I couldn’t tell others to be anything, and I didn’t feel I could embody that command myself.

So I decided to change the name.

After a long season of brainstorming, I arrived at Well and Wandered. I can be Well and Wandered. I can speak and write as Well and Wandered. And you don’t need to be anything — but you can be well and wandered too. I hope this new name invites a better conversation and fosters a more genuine connection.

What Comes Next

I have so many stories to tell from the past five years — and even more travel on the horizon. Hopefully, finding myself Well and Wandered will allow me to share more of it with you.

Wherever this path leads, I hope it continues to offer moments of connection, clarity, and quiet awe — for me and for you. I’m glad you’re here.