• Over the past decade, I've traveled solo to all 50 US states and most major US national parks.
• Although I've found beauty in every state, there are some that I want to visit over and over again.
• I love traveling to places like New Mexico, Montana, New Hampshire, and Arizona.

Over the past decade, I've successfully visited all 50 US states solo, and have even made it to most of the major US national parks along the way. Because of this journey, I'm often asked which states I'd recommend to travelers.

Although most international travelers gravitate toward states like Florida and New York, I've found fantastic beauty and history in every state.

However, these are the 10 I always return to.

New Mexico boasts a surprising variety of stunning landscapes.

New Mexico is always at the top of my list of recommendations. Nicknamed "the land of enchantment," it lives up to its moniker — and then some.

Those who haven't visited New Mexico may think of the state as a mostly barren desert, but it's actually the diverse landscapes that keep me coming back.

From the otherworldly dunes of White Sands National Park to the snow-capped Sangre de Cristo Mountains, there's beauty to be found around every corner.

Outside the natural beauty, the state is chock full of history, art, food, wine, and culture.

California is full of diverse landscapes and experiences.

Every time I visit California, I feel like I'm entering a completely different reality.

The sheer size and diversity of the state are impressive, and it has gorgeous beaches, cities, forests, deserts, mountains, and even volcanoes.

I love road-tripping up the coast, visiting Yosemite National Park, taking a boat to the Channel Islands, and wine tasting in places like Napa and Sonoma.

Montana is a must-visit state for any outdoor enthusiast.

With its vast open spaces, majestic mountains, and endless opportunities for outdoor adventure, Montana is a must-visit state for any outdoor enthusiast.

The state is home to the breathtaking Glacier National Park and parts of Yellowstone National Park. The sky is vast and open, the mountains are towering, and the lack of development makes me feel like I'm entering another world entirely.

I've returned to West Virginia multiple times.

Although it may not get as much attention as some of the other states on this list, I've returned to West Virginia multiple times since my first visit.

The state's natural beauty is stunning, from New River Gorge National Park to ample lush forests, underground caverns, historic small towns, and over 200 waterfalls.

Wisconsin is home to beautiful scenery and great dining options.

Wisconsin has so much more than first meets the eye, from the natural beauty of the Apostle Islands and the 15,000 lakes in the state to the classic cheese curds, breweries, and wineries that dot the landscape.

I love spending time along the shores of Lake Michigan and Lake Superior, dining at one of the state's famous supper clubs, and exploring the many Wisconsin state parks.

There's no place quite like the Maine coast.

There's so much to love about Maine, but my favorite part of the state is the coast. With jagged and dramatic cliffs, lighthouses, and lobster shacks, visiting the Maine coast is an unforgettable experience.

It's easy to find peace in the state that sees the first sunrise of the year and is home to Acadia National Park, which is one of the country's most-popular national parks.

I love to road trip up the coast, stopping in beautiful towns like Kennebunkport, Bar Harbour, and Lubec.

As my home state, Colorado will always hold a special place in my heart.

I couldn't write a list like this without including my home state of Colorado. The state has so much to offer, from beautiful views to fun activities.

On the Front Range, I enjoy hiking in Boulder and exploring Cheyenne Cañon. I like to spend the night at the The Broadmoor hotel in Colorado Springs before heading over to Great Sand Dunes National Park.

In the Rockies, I love driving Independence Pass to Aspen, as well as exploring the underrated Grand Mesa, which is the biggest flat-top mountain in the world. I also enjoy taking road trips to the charming mountain towns of Telluride, Buena Vista, and Steamboat Springs.

No matter where you find yourself in Colorado, there's no shortage of incredible natural beauty and outdoor adventure.

New Hampshire boasts some of the best skiing and hiking in the Northeast.

The Northeast is famous for its fall foliage, but I can't help but think that New Hampshire is sometimes overshadowed by its neighbors, Maine and Vermont.

I was stunned by its natural beauty during my first trip to the state. From the White Mountains to Franconia Notch State Park, the state boasts some of the best skiing and hiking in the Northeast.

Utah is home to five major national parks.

Utah is a state that you have to see to believe. With five major national parks, 46 state parks, 15 ski resorts, and hidden gems at every turn — you'll never get bored here.

I love visiting Moab to hike in Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, and Dead Horse Point State Park before heading south to Bryce Canyon National Park, Kodachrome Basin State Park, and Zion National Park.

I also like making stops in Park City and Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument.

Arizona is the perfect escape for adventure and relaxation.

Arizona is well known for the Grand Canyon, but the state has much more to offer. From Flagstaff's high-altitude forests to Sedona's iconic red rocks, Arizona's diversity is surprising and worth a trip.

I love hiking among the cacti in Sedona or Scottsdale before heading to one of the many resorts to jump in a pool or hit the spa — the perfect escape for adventure and relaxation.

This story was originally published on April 5, 2024, and most recently updated on October 23, 2026.

• After my divorce, I wanted something special for my first mother-daughter trip with my 8-year-old.
• We decided to spend a week at a luxury dude ranch in Colorado.
• The trip helped me show my daughter

Resting by the heated pool in my cowboy hat, breathing the fresh mountain air, I watched my daughter laughing with her new friends and felt something I hadn't in years: a sense of peace.

Earlier that year, my husband and I inked our signatures in separate rooms, ending our 16-year marriage. Our divorce was one that could be labeled "volatile," and not just for us, but for our 8-year-old daughter.

When it came time to plan our first summer vacation with just me and her, I knew it would likely be a splurge, but I needed it to be special. We needed activity. We needed reconnection. We needed a dude ranch.

This was our first big adventure for just the two of us

My research led me to an all-inclusive ranch in Colorado. The website had footage of horses running across a bridge over a winding stream. It looked perfect.

Although I was apprehensive about the two of us traveling from Texas during the week of July 4th, I inevitably found it liberating. Wheeling luggage stuffed with heavy cowboy boots while lugging backpacks through airports, shuttling to the rental car, and navigating unknown mountainous switchbacks could have been disastrous, but we managed it well. It was our first accomplishment in independence.

We encountered some surprises

"You have arrived," the navigation system announced in our rental as we turned onto the dirt drive lined with quintessential log cabins with thick white chinking, set on manicured lawns before the Rocky Mountain backdrop. Each porch had bright pink, purple, and red petunias hanging in baskets above shellacked wooden rocking chairs. It was just like we imagined it.

After parking our red Wrangler, we were greeted by ranch staff in full cowboy gear who guided us past the soft pink peonies nestled between the grayish-white aspen trees to check in.

At check-in, while planning our next seven days, I discovered that children eat dinner most nights with the other children and their counselors and take separate trail rides twice a day. This concept is great for families, giving mom and dad a chance to reconnect over gourmet meals, but I wasn't so sure how our new life would fit into this scenario.

Initially apprehensive about the separation, my daughter and I soon discovered this daily dose of division was liberating, forcing us to foster new friendships.

Our expectations were exceeded

Later, we met the director of equestrian operations, and she asked about our riding experience and personalities to best match us with one of her cherished horses. We were excited to meet our horses the next day.

Meanwhile, our newly renovated western chic room was complete with leather-branded throw pillows, a fireplace, and a welcome basket full of healthy snacks, a red bandana, and a bottle of wine.

We quickly fell into a daily routine, bonding with our horses, riding and grooming them each day, and creating connections with other guests. We also tried out fly fishing (I caught three trout), hiking, archery, and ziplining. I especially enjoyed relaxing at the outdoor spa in luxury tents built over the creek, immersed in nature's music of bird calls and horse neighs.

We danced into the night and our next chapter

The whole trip was exceptional, and our favorite event was an evening barn dance. We dressed in full cowgirl fringe and ended the night with an elaborate fireworks display just for the resort. Sitting on the lush green grass watching red, white, and blue explosions just a few, yet safe, feet away, she and I weren't just celebrating our country's freedom, we were celebrating our own.

I had not realized until that moment I was introducing my authentic self to her — the woman I was before my marriage unraveled — and reminding myself of that version of me. Free. Capable. And full of adventure.

• I've worked as a wedding photographer for years, and I've seen couples make the same mistakes.
• Too many people schedule the day to the minute and don't get the chance to enjoy their wedding.
• Not budgeting for the right photographer and videographer can lead to disappointing results.

I've been photographing weddings for over a decade, so I've witnessed countless ceremonies and receptions — some disastrous, others impeccable.

Throughout the years, I've also watched couples make the same mistakes over and over. Here are a few I wish they'd avoid.

Filling the day-of schedule with way too much

Couples have to find time for the ceremony, photos, eating and drinking, dancing, talking to the people they invited, and connecting with each other.

When you try to fit too many things into the day, no one — especially the married couple — has time to breathe and relish the moments. The day can feel rushed and more focused on activities than the celebration of love.

A packed schedule often leaves couples stressed, with no time to eat because they've been pushed from one 15-minute window to the next.

However, your wedding day shouldn't be a blur. You should have time to soak in every moment. When you map out your day, prioritize traditions you love and estimate how long each will take … then add buffers.

I also recommend working with a wedding planner or coordinator to plan your timeline, or consulting with your photographer and other vendors when arranging your schedule. They've experienced countless weddings and know firsthand how much time each activity usually takes.

Letting small mishaps and issues ruin the whole day

One of the things I always tell my couples right before their wedding day is that something will go wrong.

I don't say this to scare them or make them worry, but mostly to adjust their expectations. No matter how much planning you do, people are imperfect, the weather can be unpredictable, and life happens.

By the time the day comes, couples have done all they can to make sure it's how they pictured it. All that matters after that is that they enjoy their wedding.

Missing flowers or a cake that's the wrong flavor can throw off your day — but these unexpected mishaps shouldn't be so consuming that they're all you remember from your wedding.

I don't want to witness any more miserable couples desperately trying to fix details that will never be exactly right. Please try to roll with the punches on your wedding day.

Hiring the wrong photographer or videographer

I may be a bit biased, but I strongly believe having important memories properly documented in photo and video form is priceless.

I've also heard from countless married couples who regret booking a subpar photographer or skipping a videographer.

When hiring any vendors — especially these — choose carefully. You're paying someone to use their physical and creative energy to tell the story of your wedding.

Ask a ton of questions and make sure you love their style by viewing their portfolios and websites. It can also help to hop on a phone call or video meeting — couples should esnsure they vibe with their photo and video team on a personal level because they'll be spending a lot of time with them on the big day.

Planning the wedding they think they should have instead of the one they actually want

Weddings are for the couple, so they should do what they want.

I see so many of them spend thousands of dollars and devote countless hours to planning, only to celebrate their love the way they think they're supposed to — not how they'd actually like.

Your wedding should be unique to you, and it doesn't need to look like everyone else's. If you wish to elope in the forest or plan a ball inspired by "Bridgerton" in a mansion, go for it.

The couple is at the core of the celebration, so why shouldn't everything be based on who they are and what matters most to them? 

Consider this my official public service announcement: Your wedding can — and should — be fun, unique, and meaningful to you. 

This story was originally published in June 2021 and most recently updated on October 23, 2026.

• Getting rid of just five things a day can make decluttering feel much more manageable.
• Small daily efforts add up, helping clear crowded drawers and surfaces over time.
• The key is consistency, not trying to organize your entire home in one weekend.

The holidays are around the corner, and soon the chaos of hosting and travel will start. If tidying the house and reducing your clutter are things you thought you'd get to this year, let's take the pressure off and do it as gently as possible, before it ends.

I help my clients get rid of clutter year-round. Here are a few strategies to make a tough task easier.

Be realistic

One thing that can derail your decluttering project is false optimism. Have you ever said, "We'll clear out the garage on Saturday and w'll do something fun Sunday!"? Taking care of stuff that has resisted management for years won't be done in an afternoon. There are so many choices to make when you're trying to get rid of things, and that's where confusion and exhaustion make a seemingly simple process into one that's hard to face.

But don't despair — you can make progress and get things tidied up before next year. Imagine not having this task on your list when spring's optimism returns.

Slow and steady is key

You remember the tortoise and the hare? Slow and steady wins the race, and it will also get your home feeling more spacious and tidy. Try the five-a-day (or three-a-day, or two-a-day) method. Put a cardboard box in your back hall, garage, or other staging area. Choose five (or three or two) things every day and toss them in the box — or the trash.

These items can be anything; on a challenging day, you might get rid of an old dried-up glue stick, a charging cord that doesn't match your current phone, and a stack of expired coupons. When you wake up one day feeling motivated, you might look for five pairs of unworn shoes and also choose five books you don't want anymore.

It might feel like these small movements won't make a dent in the problem, but they will. After a couple of months, you'll find that drawers are less crowded and you can start to see surfaces again. Just keep at it.

Do not fear the garbage can. Recycling is important, but at a certain point, things do become trash. Holding on to them because you feel guilty about the landfill isn't helping the planet. If you want to make a difference, try buying less.

Schedule the hard stuff

Maybe you've got a broken lawnmower. Is there a place in your community that recycles old equipment? Maybe there's a high school shop class that would take it. Maybe a handy neighbor can fix it up. Spend a little time doing your research, then choose a day to take the lawnmower to its next home.

Getting those challenging items out of the house is a huge help. Accept that it might take a little ingenuity, time, and energy; if you don't expect it to be simple and instantaneous, you won't be so easily discouraged.

Maybe it makes sense to hire someone to haul away the unwieldy stuff. Great! Just do it.

Gamify decluttering

Waiting for the coffee to brew? Look around the kitchen. Surely there is one thing that can be thrown away. Waiting for the shower water to heat up? Find one thing in the bathroom you can do without. Try getting rid of one thing in every room in the house. Then do it again tomorrow.

Make a bet with your partner, roommate, or kid. Who can get rid of the most stuff in a day or a week? Initiate challenges! Hand out prizes! Turn home management into a game instead of a chore.

Tidy in phases

Maybe it's not just clutter making your life difficult. Look, you're tired, life is challenging. If your house is consistently untidy, try this: stand up and put 10 things back where they belong. Glass in the dishwasher, shoes in the closet, magazine in the recycle bin, etc. Set an alarm for a half hour, then get up and do it again.

Call it lazy or call it realistic; if the work gets done, it's done, whether you did it in an hour or five. Who lives in a perfectly tidy house, anyway? Don't let those TikTok feeds fool you; very few of us enjoy curated spaces with zero clutter or dust. We're living in our homes, and life is inherently messy.

Do yourself a favor; spend as much time actually managing your stuff as you do berating yourself for not doing it. You'll improve your mental health and your house will feel better.

• My husband and I have different approaches to investing.
• He's risk-tolerant, and I'm a bit more risk-averse.
• Still, we've managed to talk through financial decisions and find a common ground.

The conversation started because of a windfall: it was the first month that we didn't have the preschool tuition payment because my son was starting kindergarten. "I'd love for this money not to just disappear into the monthly budget," I said to my husband.

He nodded, and immediately had a suggestion. "What if we used it to start up a brokerage account? It'd be good to have some investments that are accessible without penalty before retirement."

Our approaches to investing differ

I knew, deep down, that this was a reasonable response to my point: we both already were on board with the idea of paying ourselves first, where we commit to an amount ahead of time for savings and retirement investments and then live on whatever we earn above that. This strategy served us well, and I wasn't opposed… exactly.

"I was actually hoping to use some of it to add to our emergency fund," I told him slowly. "And maybe getting some additional solar panels I've been looking at."

We have recently lived through instability that made me really appreciate the kinds of standard comforts that are currently easily accessible. Our family experienced the impact of a major hurricane only two years ago (Hurricane Helene), and when water, electricity, and telecommunications were interrupted for days and then weeks, I realized that a relatively modest amount of money and supplies would have made weathering a period of instability easier.

This is the place where my husband and I diverge: I tend to see things somewhat pessimistically, believing there's a good chance supply chains will be interrupted more than a few times during our lifetimes due to a variety of factors.

My husband has a generally optimistic, risk-tolerant approach to life. He knows we've made a solid plan for retirement, so he sees that a brokerage account offers promising returns (not guaranteed, but based on historical data) on funds that we've worked hard to earn. I'm sometimes fearful of the possibility of losing everything in a stock market crash.

I don't think either of us is truly at odds with the other person: my husband witnessed Helene and set to work setting up a battery backup system for our solar panels, an impressive feat and investment that falls more in line with my own risk-averse nature.

And I've never squashed his goals of investing for both short and long-term stability, even if, deep down, I want all our savings in high-yield savings accounts with FDIC protection.

We've learned how to figure out what's right for us

In order to make these conversations civil and positive, we tend to follow three steps.

First, we each get to make the case for why this investment, and why right now.

I think some of the way that we both get over our anxieties about spending or saving well is that we want to be heard, so he hears me out when I want to construct an expensive greenhouse on our property to grow more food, and I hear him out when he identifies that our current ages merit a somewhat risk-tolerant strategy so that we can reap the benefits when the market jumps higher.

Frequently, this process of hearing each other out helps us find an in-between pretty organically, and finding an in-between is the second step. Sometimes, we realize that, for instance, we are too busy to take full advantage of a greenhouse right now and should table it for a year or two. However, maybe this is a good year to invest in a higher-speed home charger for our electric car. Because many of his goals are "invest as much as possible," it's usually possible to buy some portion of the physical items I want while still contributing to our investments.

When I'm advocating for a deeper emergency fund, housed in a high-yield savings account rather than a market-invested brokerage account, I typically ask that we contribute in a percentage-based way. If I ask, for instance, for a windfall to be split 30/70, he gets to invest 70% of the money toward higher yields, and I get 30% in a very secure account. It's not exactly what either of us would like, but it ultimately gives us some benefits of both risk-averse and risk-tolerant strategies.

Finally, any time we find a split that really feels aligned for us, we see if we can make it a rule for the future, the third step. No one loves having to reinvent the wheel every time new money conversations come up. When that 70/30 split worked well for us once, I've returned to it for later money decisions, and while it sometimes needs to be adapted, it lets us balance each of our needs without a long discussion. My husband, famously of few words, likes when we can keep the conversations a little shorter and get back to playing a board game or watching a silly TV show to relax.

When we hear each other out, find a useful middle ground, and operationalize the result for future use, we find ways to invest in both a more secure and a more growth-focused future, favoring methods that work well for both our risk tolerance levels.

• Makeup and beauty routines have never been very important to me.
• My daughter is obsessed with self-care and knows a lot more about products than I do.
• I'm always happy to indulge her interests in this area; it gives us a nice way to connect.

"Can we go to Sephora?" my daughter asks, with her rather flawless teen reflection in the mirror standing on a blush-stained rug. Excited that she asked me into her room, I think, "Sephora again?"

With no room for more makeup around her cluttered sink, I question the need for any more beauty products. At the same time, my daughter is asking to spend time with me. "Pick up the towel off the floor and pull up your Oliva {Rodrigo} playlist," I say, smiling as I walk out the door. "We are leaving in five."

I learned to embrace the suck

As the true definition of a tomboy, now in my early 50s, my makeup knowledge ends with applying lipstick and mascara — without smudging.

Walking through the aisles of makeup and skincare products, I read the labels, dumbfounded. What even is skin milk? Would I apply that before or after serum?

Just as I tell my daughter the coined elementary school phrase, "The power of yet, you can't do it yet," when she struggles with things, I have learned to accept that I don't feel confident applying makeup or following my skincare routine yet. Not long ago, she flipped those words back on me, the ones I so often tell her, as I struggled to apply eyeshadow while we got ready for a concert together: "Accept that struggle is part of the learning process." If embracing the suck means more quality time with my daughter, please sign me up over and over again.

I let her lead

Life lessons, especially in the tween and teen years, come fast and often. Relating to teen interests and experiences is also harder than it used to be in this modern, technology-driven world. My daughter's obsession with self-care has given her a chance to teach me a thing or two about what matters to her. She's created a space for us to share experiences on a platform she understands and values.

On a recent trip, I fumbled through the 20 or so shades of skin tint with SPF. Putting up my I-give-up hands, I watched my daughter take my wrist and rub a shade of tint on the back of my hand. "You need something a bit darker," she said, grabbing a darker shade and taking the lead with the confidence of a well-trained beauty store employee.

Who would have thought the back of your wrist was a good place to match your face foundation? I sure didn't. I'm not raising my hand in the back to say I know the difference between essence and face oil, but ask my daughter, and she'll exude self-assurance and rattle off the answer with a smile.

I have savored our time together

Between work and school commitments, friends, and extracurriculars, it's hard to find time to just hang with my teen. Besides a before-school Starbucks run, a trip to the beauty store is one date my daughter never says no to.

I know the last time we do our Sunday self-care routine of gossip, masks, and eye patches will come. Some day she might even want to shop for makeup just with her friends. For now, I'll keep singing Olivia at the top of my lungs with her in the car on the way to and from the store. Even if I always feel like a fish out of water in a beauty store's sensory overload, I will embrace it all for some one-on-one time with my daughter. Plus, my skin has never looked better.

• Tiffany Tang founded DrinkFolks after a transformative journey across Asia in 2023 and 2024.
• Tang's layoff in 2023 led her to Bali, where she decided to extend her 30-day trip to over a year.
• DrinkFolks, inspired by Tang's travels, supports women-led farms and brings jamu to the US market.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Tiffany Tang, the 30-year-old founder of DrinkFolks. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm the founder and CEO of DrinkFolks, which brings jamu, a 1,300-year-old Indonesian herbal remedy, to the US as a prebiotic root tonic.

For the first two years of my career, I was an assistant director at a gallery owned by the first female fine arts dealer in America. From 2017 to 2021, I worked at Christie's International Real Estate in marketing and communications roles.

For the next year, I was a senior communications manager at CSM Sport & Entertainment before taking on a similar role at a fintech company that helped millions of Americans sustainably build their credit scores through rewards.

I felt positively about that job, but I was laid off in May 2023

I was grateful to work there. We were doing big things, and I really learned what it was like to be at a mission-driven company.

The most interesting thing about my layoff was how incredibly calm I felt upon hearing the news. Our CMO told me first, and she was a friend, my college professor, and an executive I admire and respect.

When she told me, I said I didn't blame her, and this was a time for a reset. Turns out, the layoff was the best thing that could've ever happened to me.

A few weeks after my layoff, I booked a one-way ticket to Bali

For a long time, my self-worth was my net worth — my title, my salary, my career trajectory. When the layoff hit, I lost my sense of self. Reflecting afterward, all I could think was: who am I without the high-paying job?

A few weeks earlier, I had watched the movie "Eat, Pray, Love." When the layoff came, something in me said that this was my moment. I opened Kayak, found a one-way ticket to Bali for around $1,000, and booked it. Bali felt approachable and warm.

What was supposed to be a 30-day reset changed the course of my life

I originally planned to travel in Southeast Asia for a month but ended up staying from June 2023 through August 2024.

My awakening happened on day three. One of the first things I did in Bali was a Panchakarma, a full-body Ayurvedic detox at a retreat in Ubud. There was an optional silent day; one of the first times in my life I rooted and looked inward.

Sitting with my journal, I knew I had to stay. I was still negotiating my severance, so I did the math: my savings, my investments, what each month would cost. When my severance came through a few weeks later, it jump-started the journey.

The deeper turning point was Hong Kong

Everyone I met understood me on an indescribable level. It was the only time in my life I was speaking Cantonese to people outside my family, reconnecting with my heritage. By the time I came home for the holidays, I had decided: I was moving to Asia.

The spark for the company was the women I met. Across Indonesia and Southeast Asia, I sat with women quietly building something of their own. I wanted to help these women build generational wealth for their families. I built DrinkFolks as a way to sustainably invest in them — 3% of every sale goes to women-led farms and nonprofits across Southeast Asia through our FolksFund — while supporting health stateside by bringing ancient wisdom into people's homes.

I started the company in January 2024, took every jamu class I could find in Bali, visited the source of jamu in Yogyakarta, and reformulated recipes in my Hong Kong kitchen.

By October 2024, I was back in the US, working with California food scientists to scale up my home-tested recipe. We launched in NYC in October 2025. Today, we're in 70+ stores across the US.

Living in Southeast Asia made the math work

My salary before the layoff was $160,000 a year, plus equity. When I set off, I had roughly $14,000 between savings and severance — my spreadsheet calculated 4.6 months of runway — and I felt comfortable investing that in myself.

I budgeted like it was my job. I tracked my actual spending obsessively for the first four and a half months and came in at roughly $7,700 total.

All-in, I averaged about $1,300 to $2,300 a month, including flights, lodging, food, everything. My money stretched furthest in Cambodia and least in Hong Kong, which was financially similar to New York City. For comparison: my overhead, including my mortgage, maintenance, electricity, and WiFi in New York today is about $2,500 a month.

In terms of cost of living comparisons, here's my breakdown

Healthcare was the biggest surprise, in the best way. I got into a motorcycle accident on the Pakse Loop in Laos, and seven stitches cost me around seven dollars, including painkillers and a week of antibiotics.

Cambodia was the best value. It's the most adventurous, outdoorsy country I visited, and I didn't want to explore alone, so I stayed in hostels for as little as $6 a night — partly a budget move, mostly a way to meet people. It's also where I met my first fellow Americans of the entire trip.

Hong Kong was the opposite — groceries and eating out gave me real sticker shock. I softened it with a genuine energy exchange: I moved in with a college friend and threw dinner parties several times a week, cooking meals for them in exchange for a place to stay. It was worth every dollar — I met some of my truest friends and future business partners there.

The layoff was honestly the best thing that ever happened to me

It gave me the confidence to build DrinkFolks, a better sense of my heritage, and a version of myself I'm proud of. I've learned to never say never, but right now, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

My advice is to use your layoff as your launchpad. Things happen for you, not in spite of you. If you have even the slightest chance to live in that moment for yourself — for me, that was travel — take it as a gift and a blessing, not a crisis to survive.

Treat budgeting as freedom, not constraint. My money stretched so much further than I imagined. Clear parameters gave me the space to figure out who I am outside my job.

• My husband and I enjoy hiking, but our kids, 7 and 10, often complain along the way.
• On a visit to Finland, we went hiking with a guide, and my kids were engaged the whole time.
• It encouraged me to change a few things about the way I approach and plan family hikes.

It was an hour into our hike through Southern Konnevesi National Park in Finland, and neither of my 7- and 10-year-old daughters was complaining. It was glorious.

Normally, within the first hour, I would have already heard the question "How much longer?" One of them would also declare, "It's boring. We're just walking."

So what was different about this hike? Why weren't they complaining? It's because I took a different approach to this hike than I have with past ones — and it worked. Here's what I did.

A stranger motivated them more than I ever could

For this hike, we had a local guide with us, and my kids hung on her every word. They were asking questions non-stop and following her down the trail without a single complaint.

I almost laughed when I saw them literally stepping in her footprints and mimicking every move she made. This is not what my husband and I were accustomed to.

When she leaned on a rock to hear "the whispers of the forest," my kids did the same. When she found edible berries, my kids rushed there to try them first.

I do my best to make hikes interesting for my kids, but I am also a first-time visitor to most of the places we explore. No matter how much I research beforehand, I usually can't predict what they will find interesting along the trail. By contrast, this local guide knew exactly how to keep them excited, which kept them moving along.

Having a job kept them interested

I also noticed that the guide occasionally gave them "crucial" jobs along the trail. Who could find the next patch of berries, who could spot mushrooms growing on a log, or who could hear a bird singing?

When we are alone, I try to do these things too, but I cannot always answer the questions that ultimately follow: "Are these berries edible?" "What kind of mushroom is that?" or "Which bird is singing?"

I know my kids are naturally curious, but I wondered why my kids seem uninterested when it's just us. I began to realize they stopped asking me questions because they knew I didn't always have answers. Since our guide did this time, they asked her. They were eager to learn.

I tailored the goal to their needs

I also noticed they had not asked the dreaded question, "How much longer?" Not even once on our 2.5-mile hike.

I kept thinking about my usual responses. I say things like, "Look at the beautiful forest. Just enjoy the view and breathe in the fresh air," or, "Come on, we're almost there. It'll be worth it when we arrive."

Kids care about what's happening in the next five minutes in a way that's different from how my husband and I approach things. I was expecting them to hike like adults, getting from one point to the next. If they can discover something new at every step, they will relish the journey and won't feel time passing slowly. That's something I'm planning to incorporate into our future family hikes.

On a different trip, we tried forest bathing with a local guide in Austria, which lasted over three hours. When it ended, my kids frowned and said, "That was so short. Can we keep going?"

We allow time for free play along the way

After these experiences, I became much more careful about which trails I choose when hiking with my kids.

I know now that the best trails for my kids are the ones that offer exciting experiences along the way: a lake where kids can swim with tadpoles, a stream to cross, or rocks to scramble over.

I've also learned not to rush the stops. My daughters love spending time throwing rocks into a lake, sending leaf rafts down a stream, balancing on fallen logs, building hearts from flowers, or watching frogs or insects.

The biggest change for me has been to stop measuring a hike's success by how far we get and start measuring it by how much fun we had.

In Finland, I realized my kids already enjoy hiking. They just enjoy different things during a hike than I do as an adult. I should never forget that sometimes the part they remember most has nothing to do with the trail itself.