I’ve gotten pretty spoiled being a travel writer. In the past year, I’ve stayed at the historic Fairmont in San Francisco, with a breathtaking view of the city; the adorable Tucker House Inn on San Juan Island, with fresh-baked cookies so big it took me two days to finish one; the Westin Diplomat in Hollywood, Florida, with poolside cabanas that I kicked back in for hours; and La Fonda on the Plaza in Santa Fe, where I curled up by my fireplace and enjoyed views of the Cathedral from the hot tub.
And while I loved all those experiences, I’ve never been one to travel only one way. So when I went to Belize last year, I traded in creature comforts for something a little more authentic. Forget drinks with umbrellas poolside and bathrooms bigger than my apartment — when I ventured into the Mayan village of San Jose, there were no flushing toilets or electricity. What they did have was an opportunity to unplug from it all and delve into the way of life of someone else. So I did just that. And I couldn’t wait to leave … and yet wanted to stay.
Read all about my fickleness in an essay I wrote for Away.com called “Why I Loved My Terrible Vacation in Belize.”