How a trip to Phuket changed how I think about planning trave

My body was already carrying a lot before I even got on the plane. Saying goodbye to central New York hit differently this time. I had reconnected with old friends, built new friendships, and become part of a community of people who showed up for me in ways I never expected. Rides to doctor’s appointments. Meals. A place to recover. Real comfort. Leaving that stung.

Then there was the journey itself. More than twenty-five hours. My first long-haul flight since my injury and not entirely sure my body was ready for it.

Underneath all of that was the anxiety of returning to Bangkok. As much as I’m getting used to calling it a second home, Bangkok often overwhelms me. It’s loud, hot, crowded, relentless in a way that makes your body tense before you’ve even left the airport.



The crossing took about fifteen minutes. The sea breeze on my face. Sun on my skin. Blue in every direction. Somewhere during the ride, I started to feel a little less tense. By the time we pulled up to the pier, I was already beginning to let go.

To our surprise we were upgraded to a private pool villa. But it wasn’t the villa that stayed with me though it was probably one of the most gorgeous rooms I have ever stayed and having our own private pool helped. But from the moment we arrived, the staff were warm, attentive, always present without ever feeling intrusive. 

On our second night at dinner, Kamp quietly mentioned to me that the noodles he’d loved the night before tasted a little saltier this time. He wasn’t complaining. He was barely even commenting. Ten minutes later, a staff member appeared with a freshly prepared dish. Salt adjusted. Nobody had asked. Nobody was supposed to have heard.

I realized then that luxury, at least for me, wasn’t about private pools or five-star ratings or exclusivity. It was about feeling cared for before you even had to ask for it. And Kamp was happy because he really did love those noodles. 

We didn’t do much during those first few days, and that was exactly the point. We woke up early enough to watch the sunrise while the staff set up breakfast. Just us and the sound of tropical birds in the trees. We lingered over meals. Got massages. Floated between pools. Walked the grounds.

One night there was a beach barbecue buffet, the kind of meal where you lose track of time because there’s no reason to check the clock. Another night, a fire show. No agenda. Nowhere to be. Just the two of us slowly finding our rhythm again.



After a few days of doing very little, we borrowed bikes from the resort and explored the island. Empty roads. The occasional motorbike passing by. Locals waved as we rode past. Butterflies crossing our path.I can’t remember the last time I felt that at ease. We caught the sunset and watched the light change over the water.

On the way back, we stopped at a small family-run seafood restaurant on the beach not far from the resort. Their dog greeted us and practically led us to a table by the water.

We ordered too much. Mussels. Shrimp. Pla Tod Kamin, a Southern Thai dish of whole fried fish marinated in fresh turmeric and garlic. The food arrived slowly. There was us, one other table, and the ocean.

And somewhere between the first dish and the last, I noticed something. My mind had gone quiet. No racing thoughts. No worrying about my body. No mental list of everything waiting for me in Bangkok. No what-ifs.

Just the food. The water. Kamp sitting across from me. And for the first time in a very long time, I was fully present.

Somewhere over those few days, this small island had given me exactly what I’d come looking for, even though I hadn’t fully known how to describe it when I booked the trip.



I don’t usually think about how I want a trip to feel when I plan travel for myself. I pick a destination and often find a hotel as a place to sleep.

But this stay reminded me that sometimes the right place does something more. It doesn’t just support the trip. It shapes the entire experience. It creates the conditions for you to become the version of yourself you hoped would show up on that journey.

I left Phuket thinking about travel differently. And not just about luxury travel. I left thinking about the way I want to plan travel in the first place.

I started thinking about what I needed from this trip. And what we needed as a couple after a year apart. Those needs led me to Barcelo on Coconut Island. 

And maybe that’s something most of us don’t do. We start with the destination. Or the budget. Or the kind of traveler we think we are. Then we come home and describe how the trip made us feel.

Relaxing. Inspiring. Exhausting. Overwhelmed. Not long enough.

What if, before searching for flights or scrolling through hotel reviews, we start with a different question and sit with it for a little while:

What do I actually need from my next trip?

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