Tag: travel

Bringing a Slice of ‘La Dolce Vita’ Into Your Daily Life

“The actual concept is far more radical, and far more boring: it’s a daily, granular insistence that pleasure, beauty, presence, and human connection are not rewards to be earned after the work is done. They are the work, in the sense that they’re the point of being alive. Everything else is logistics.”

There’s a particular look on the face of an American tourist watching Italians eat lunch. It’s a mix of envy, suspicion, and quiet panic — like the expression a border collie makes when the sheep stop moving. “Why are they sitting down? Why is there wine? Why does this take ninety minutes on a Tuesday?” The American instinct is to assume this is somehow unserious, a charming inefficiency that explains why “they” don’t run the world anymore. The Italian instinct, watching the American eat a sad desk salad over a keyboard as they still scroll through their Outlook inbox, is roughly the same look in reverse, except theirs comes with pity.

‘La dolce vita‘ or ‘the sweet life’ in English has been so thoroughly merchandised by travel magazines and Instagram that the phrase now mostly evokes linen pants and Aperol spritzes against a Positano sunset. That version is a vacation, not the culture itself. The actual concept is far more radical, and far more boring: it’s a daily, granular insistence that pleasure, beauty, presence, and human connection are not rewards to be earned after the work is done. They are the work, in the sense that they’re the point of being alive. Everything else is logistics.

Americans have a complicated relationship with this idea of work-life balance, and it seems to have regressed since the COVID pandemic has ended. We’ve built an entire economy, geography, and moral framework on the opposite premise that leisure is suspicious until proven to enhance productivity, that meals are fuel stops rather than meals to be enjoyed, that beauty is a luxury good rather than a daily requirement, and that the highest compliment you can pay a person is ” he’s / she’s so busy” or “he / she is such a hard worker at their job.” Adopting even fragments of la dolce vita or ‘the sweet life’ mentality in this context isn’t a lifestyle tweak. It’s mild cultural sedition, which is exactly why it’s worth doing.

Before going further, it’s worth clearing away what the phrase has become. La dolce vita in its current English usage is mostly a marketing layer like a vibe sold by linen brands, boutique hotels, and travel writers who need a shorthand for “expensive Mediterranean leisure.” The Fellini film that gave us the phrase was really about decadence and spiritual emptiness, which is a delicious irony nobody mentions when they’re captioning a photo of a Negroni.

The real thing, as practiced rather than performed, is less photogenic and more philosophical. It rests on a handful of assumptions that quietly contradict the American cultural operating system. First, that pleasure is not a reward but a baseline, something that deserves to be woven into ordinary days, not stored up for vacations. Second, meals are social and temporal events and should linger for a while, not refueling stops mostly spent alone or with people you are forced to have lunch with. Third, that beauty in your immediate environment like the cup you drink from, the square you walk through, the shirt you put on for no reason is a daily necessity, not a luxury. Fourth, that time spent with other people you care about, in person, without a professional or otherwise hidden agenda, is not “downtime” but the substance of a life. And fifth, perhaps most foreign to American ears: that being unproductive is not a moral failure, but rather slowing things down for a bit to savor life for what it is.

What ‘la dolce vita’ is not and what has been mistaken for: laziness, hedonism, anti-ambition, or a rejection of work. Italians work just as hard as anyone. Plenty of them work too much. However, work shouldn’t colonize every other category of existence. There’s a fence around it. Americans tend to assume the fence is the problem and that it prevents greatness. The Italian counterargument is that without the fence, you don’t get greatness; you just get a tired, lonely person who answers emails and makes spreadsheets until they die.

The American resistance to this kind of approach isn’t personal weakness or laziness but rather it’s structural, and it goes back centuries. The Protestant work ethic, however secularized, still runs underneath the culture like plumbing. Work isn’t just what you do; it’s evidence of your moral standing. Rest, by the same logic, requires justification. You don’t see your life as time to be inhabited; you see it as productivity to be optimized, with leisure as the reward you’ve theoretically earned but rarely can take because you feel guilty about it.

Layer on top of that is the physical environment. Postwar America bulldozed walkable neighborhoods, especially in most major cities, and built the suburbs, which is a geography that makes spontaneous social life functionally impossible. You cannot accidentally bump into a friend on your way home from the bakery if there is no bakery, no sidewalk(s), and no home you arrive at except by car. The “third place” in a walkable town or community like the café, plaza, pub, or stoop where unstructured human contact happens has been largely engineered out of American daily life. What remains is home and work, with a windshield between them.

Then, there’s the cultural premium on busyness as identity and with being identified by “what do you do?” that defines “who you are” as an individual. “How are you?” “Busy!” and we hear this as a thing to brag about, not a confession that we are overworked. We’ve inverted the older signal: in most of human history, leisure denoted status. In America, exhaustion does. Even our leisure has been infected as we optimize our hobbies, track our sleep, gamify our walks, turn vacations into itineraries that require recovery afterward or a vacation from our vacation.

The cruelest part is how this gets internalized in our overall outlook on life. Sitting at a café for an hour without a laptop, a book, or a goal feels actively wrong to most Americans. There’s a faint moral itch; shouldn’t I be doing something with my time? that Italians and other cultures simply do not have. Recognizing that itch as a disease rather than a virtue is step one.

You cannot import Rome, Italy into Bethesda, Maryland. However, you can import behaviors, and the behaviors are surprisingly portable. Some of my fondest memories are of long afternoons drinking tea by the Bosporus Strait in Istanbul, savoring freshly made coffee on a farm in Colombia, and passing the hours with no destination on evening strolls through major European and Latin American cities. Remember to start small and start with things that don’t require permission from your employer, your spouse, or your municipality.

The proper coffee ritual. Stop drinking coffee in the car or taking your coffee ‘to go’ from a drive-thru or on an application. Drink it sitting down, in a real cup (no Styrofoam), for ten minutes minimum, doing nothing else. That’s the challenge I ask you. This single change reframes the morning from a launch sequence into an actual beginning, where the world slows down and you can really think deeply without distractions. No use of the phone for ten minutes is a bonus if you can have that kind of self-control too.

The ‘passeggiata’ or ‘after meal walk’. The Italian after-dinner walk has no destination, no fitness target, no podcast, no phone. You walk because it’s evening, because digestion exists, because the neighborhood is worth being in. Twenty minutes minimum and make sure you can do it in a walkable area first. Bring a person if you have one and preferably do it around sunset.

Lunch, that isn’t sad. Eating at your office desk is the single most depressing American workplace practice and it produces measurably worse afternoons as a result. Leave the building or the facility, if you can. Eat something you’d describe to a friend that you would recommend to him or her. If you work from home, set the table and eat well. Yes, even for one.

Aperitivo hour. The deliberate transition from work-self to evening-self. A drink (doesn’t have to be alcoholic), a snack, sitting down, no screens, ideally with another human. It marks the day’s end and the night’s beginning. Without this kind of transition, work bleeds into dinner bleeds into Netflix bleeds into bed.

Sundays as actual Sundays. Not “meal prep and laundry and grocery run” day. Make sure to save time for at least one long meal, a walk, a nap, a book, and time with people you like. The protestant pull will be strong; resist it at least once a month.

Fare niente. “The art of doing nothing.” Sit. People watch. Meditate. Interact with nature. Look out the window. Touch grass, as the kids say. Don’t optimize each moment. This is the hardest one for many Americans because it triggers the productivity itch most acutely, which is precisely why it’s the most valuable to incorporate into your life.

Remember that you may be on your own when you adopt your own slice of ‘la dolce vita’ as best as you can. Your job will not endorse this. American work culture treats “I’m taking my full lunch” as either rebellion or weakness. Salaried knowledge workers have absorbed an unspoken rule that being reachable is the job. Carving out an actual hour in the middle of the day requires either seniority, audacity, or a willingness to be slightly misunderstood and possibly all three.

Your friends are also overscheduled. The ‘passeggiata’ works in Italy partly because everyone else is also outside at the same time, doing the same thing. In an American suburb, you are walking alone past dark houses where people are inside watching television. Building the social density that makes these rituals feel natural rather than performative is a lifelong project, not an average Tuesday decision. Your built environment is hostile. If you live somewhere designed for cars, you will have to drive to the place where you sit and have coffee. The friction is real, and it explains why these practices feel easier when you travel as the environment is doing half the work.

The shame response is the deepest obstacle. Most Americans, sitting at a café for an unhurried hour, will feel a low hum of guilt within twenty minutes. I should be answering that email. I should be at the gym. I should be using this time. That voice is not your conscience. It’s cultural conditioning, and it will get quieter only with repetition. Finally, here’s an honest admission:  Some elements of la dolce vita genuinely require structural conditions such as walkable cities, shorter workweeks, robust social ties, strong labor protections that no individual American can produce alone. You can adopt fragments of this lifestyle, but you cannot adopt the whole lifestyle unless these conditions adapt to foster better work-life balance in the greater society.

Given all these obstacles, the move is not “transform your life” but “claim one hour back.” A practical sequence for someone trying this without quitting their job or moving to Tuscany:

Pick one ritual, not all of them at once. The most common mistake is trying to overhaul the morning, the lunch, the evening, and the weekend simultaneously. Choose one part of the day to make yours again. Master it. Let it become unremarkable before adding the next part to be more enjoyable.

Start with the meal you control most. For most people, this is breakfast or dinner. Lunch is usually hostage to a workplace, especially when you’re forced into an office. If you can make one meal a day a non-optimized, sit-down, non-screen affair, you’ve already changed something structural about your lifestyle.

Find or create one third place within walking distance of you. A café, a bar, a park bench, a library, a bookstore; somewhere that isn’t home and isn’t at work, where you can be a regular patron. If nothing exists within walking distance, this becomes a clue about whether your geography is serving you and whether you and your neighbors can get together to change these structural conditions working against you in your own community.

Build one non-negotiable hour per day for yourself. Same time, same boundary. Not “when I have time” as that hour will never appear. Treat it like a meeting with someone you respect and don’t want to let down. It’s healthy for you, your family, and your health long-term.

Audit your current “relaxation” patterns. Be honest with yourself: is scrolling on your phone for an hour restful, or is it just numbing you? La dolce vita draws a sharp distinction between rest that restores you and consumption that sedates you. Most American leisure is the latter pretending to be the former. Please understand the difference to actually ‘rest well’ and do so consistently.

Accept the awkward phase at first. The first few weeks of this approach will feel slightly wrong, and you’ll catch yourself reaching for the phone, the emails, the drive to maximize productivity. That discomfort is the old operating system protesting this lifestyle change. Let it protest. Sit through it. On the other side is a version of your daily life that you might want to be inside of and that you look forward to each week.

Living ‘La Dolce Vita’ is not just a lifestyle but also a mindset for how you choose to spend your free time and with whom you spend it with. It’s not optimizing every moment but rather making the most of them by living in them and not just thinking about one moment leads to the next. Anyone should go to Italy if they have the chance to experience it for themselves but even if you don’t ever get to, you can experience ‘the sweet life’ by savoring more about life whether it’s a well-cooked meal, a delicious coffee in a park, and spending time just with your own thoughts and watching the world pass you by. It takes time to adjust to this kind of mentality, but you’ll end up finding that there is just as much beauty in doing nothing as there is in doing something.

From The Cape to Boston by Sea

“A one-way trip on the Cape Cod ferry on a windy, late Summer in Massachusetts as I make my way back to Boston after a great Labor Day weekend with friends.”

Camera: iPhone 15

Locations: Cape Cod National Seashore (Cape Cod), Provincetown, Massachusetts, United States; Boston, Massachusetts, United States

The Stadium Test – What Japanese Fans Understand That We Don’t

“The difference between these two scenes isn’t about cleanliness, it’s about culture, responsibility, and what we believe we owe to each other.”

The final whistle blows at an international stadium as tens of thousands of fans rise, cheer, and file out either in celebration or in dismay about their national team’s performance at the Olympics or World Cup. However, in one section, something extraordinary happens. A group stays behind and does not leave their trash behind. Instead, they pull out trash bags. They start cleaning and not just their own mess, but everyone else’s too. This isn’t a publicity stunt. It’s not a requirement. It’s just normal for them. Meanwhile, across the world, another kind of crowd leaves behind a different legacy: half-eaten popcorn, plastic cups, and the quiet assumption that someone else will deal with it later. The difference between these two scenes isn’t about cleanliness, it’s about culture, responsibility, and what we believe we owe to each other.

When I think of Japanese culture, what stands out to me is about the internalized responsibility to each other and to the greater society. I’ve seen videos and photos of it at international sporting events, but I’d imagine that responsibility is ingrained from an early age and while I haven’t been to Japan yet, I do believe there is a key distinction that separates their culture of cleanliness from others including my own. Recently at the 2026 Oscars, a photo went viral after Hollywood’s biggest night when popcorn boxes, candy wrappers, and soda cups were left behind at the Dolby Theatre, and instead of depositing the waste in trash bins after the awards ceremony was over, a lot of folks chose instead to let the custodians handle it. They could have deposited their trash themselves but in my view, American-style messiness (especially at large events or in public places) reflects an opposite culture of outsourced responsibility.

The Dolby Theater in Los Angeles, Post-Oscars 2026

From my research, Japanese students from a young age are taught to pick up after themselves including in the classroom and in the workplace. Instead of relying on janitors or custodians, there is the ‘Osouji’ (cleaning) system where values like ownership, respect for shared space, forming good habits are emphasized by authority figures. While Americans including myself were taught to ‘don’t litter’, Japanese kids were also taught that ‘this is your mess and you are responsible for also taking care of it yourself.’ Another Japanese expression I have learned about known as ‘Atarimae’, which is the cultural expectation that cleanliness is both normal and expected from everyone. Even if they are not in Japan for a sporting event, Japanese fans will often clean up after themselves and their section after pure habit because it was ingrained in them from such an early age.

These fans don’t see themselves doing anything out of the ordinary or exceptional and while they are admired for it by other nationalities especially as guests or visitors, the Japanese fans often shrug and remark how it’s just a normal cultural practice for them even when they are not mandated to clean up after themselves in these stadiums. Often times in Western culture, we praise those who clean our streets, stadiums, and public areas, but we often pay them little for their hard work and instead of asking everyday citizens to pitch in to do it more often or to pay our custodians and cleaning staff better, we do neither and wonder why there is less communal responsibility as a result here.

In Japanese culture, especially in sporting culture, it doesn’t matter if their team won or lost, cleanliness and having respect for your surroundings is non-negotiable. This attitude also extends to the players themselves who clean their locker rooms, leave thank you notes to their hosts, and leave their space better than they found it, inspiring others with their example going forward. Character often shows itself most when nobody else is watching or expecting someone to go above and beyond but that’s exactly what these fans, players, and supporters are doing. Collectively, cleaning is seen as respect for the shared space and for other people around you. In these sporting events, the Japanese fans will not just clean their own immediate space but for others’ as well and work together as a team in the section or in the whole stadium.

Oftentimes, in Japan, “This is our space and we should take care of it together.” I’ve found that in the U.S. we ask others with pay or to volunteer to help solve the issue rather than see it as a collective responsibility. The Japanese proverb that is often cited focuses on “don’t leave a place worse than when you depart from it.” I believe this is something that while Japanese in origin should apply to the rest of us too. This one idea alone could help cities and countries adapt more, especially when it comes to reducing pollution or helping our growing waste problem. Incentivizing people to clean up after themselves, to not leave shared space messy, and to start imparting that message from a young age should not be specific to one culture but about promoting a global consciousness around this important issue.

In my own country, cleanliness can vary widely but there have been multiple times where I’ve seen trash left behind in stadiums, people don’t flush after themselves or leave the bathroom in good shape, concerts have sticky floors from spilled alcohol, overflowing bins in my neighborhood because the city doesn’t have enough of them or they are not held onto until the tourists go home, etc. I could go on and on but the dominant cultural mindset is that “there’s staff or people who will clean up after me” and while that is true, I still think it’s in poor form to not throw things out, to make a mess and not clean it up, and to pass on the problem to somebody else. I have been guilty of this myself and I’m not proud of it in terms of leaving trash behind in a stadium or movie theater, and I recognize that now. I hope to get better at it and tell friends and family politely to do the same as me.

When responsibility is outsourced to others, behavior will follow accordingly in this case. When we internalize a new behavior or see others change theirs, culture can shift over time especially regarding cleanliness. When people are seen to clean up after themselves especially foreigners in a football stadium who practice what they preach, others will follow this example and set a new trend. Culture isn’t something to be enforced but it can be mirrored when we see others who have expectations of themselves that we didn’t even think would be possible in our own culture.

Not everyone is perfect and I don’t want to stereotype a whole country regarding cleanliness practices, which can vary depending on the individual context. Social pressure and conformity expectations do have their own drawbacks in certain areas but I do believe that encouragement can be healthy in terms of promoting trash pickup, leaving a place better than you found it, and taking responsibility for your actions in a public place, these are not negative behaviors to me and I think we’d all be better off for encouraging these positive actions like the Japanese fans at a World Cup stadium.

Having lived in other countries, every country has a different relationship to cleanliness and what constitutes civic responsibility, but I do believe that a healthier, happier society is one where the individual thinks more of him or herself in a social context and is in harmony with their environment. We are not an island unto ourselves and what we do has an effect not only on our surroundings but on the wider planet we all share together. The question to summarize isn’t why Japanese fans clean stadiums. The question is why the rest of us don’t and what it would take to make that kind of behavior feel just as normal. Because culture doesn’t change through rules, regulations, or fines, it changes when enough people decide that leaving a place better than they find it isn’t extraordinary, it’s just what you choose to do.

Hiking on the Cape

“Exploring Pilgrim Heights along the Cape Cod National Seashore on a beautiful Summer day in Massachusetts during Labor Day weekend in 2024.”

Camera: iPhone 15

Location: Pilgrim Heights; Cape Cod National Seashore (Cape Cod), Massachusetts, United States

Why American Streets and Plazas Feel Empty and How to Bring Them Back to Life

“This shift in American daily life raises a deeper question: when did public life in the United States begin to disappear, and what would it take to bring it back?”

American cities were once defined by the energy of their streets and plazas across the country from big cities to small towns as places where people didn’t just pass through, but lingered, interacted, and built a sense of real community. Today, many of those same streets feel transactional at best and empty at worst. Instead of being corridors of activity, fun, and expression, streets have become corridors rather than the destinations. Public life has thinned out and become increasingly atomized in 2026 and this societal change here was done on purpose beginning in the 1950s and its effects still linger today in 2026. This shift in American daily life raises a deeper question: when did public life in the United States begin to disappear, and what would it take to bring it back?

The answer begins with the structural changes made to the design of our cities and towns in America during the 2nd half of the twentieth century. For the past few decades, American cities have been built around cars rather than people. The decline of street and plaza life in the United States is rooted in politicians catering to the automobile industry with car-first urban planning being prioritized above all else. With the expansion of the suburbs and the ‘American Dream’ having been tied to home ownership, rigid zoning policies meant that you could no longer walk out your door by foot and enjoy being in a lively community.

Wide roads, sprawling suburbs, and strict zoning laws have separated from where people live, work, and socialize with one another. In prioritizing having efficiency and convenience for the needs of the ‘nuclear family’, which is increasingly on the decline in today’s America, most cities and towns unintentionally eliminated the very conditions that made spontaneous human interaction possible and enjoyable. This seismic shift in public policy did not change just how American cities look and were laid out, it changed how each American related to each other, especially their neighbors.

This societal transformation has had a real human cost in this country. Public spaces are not just physical environments to move through but ideally, but they are also meant to be social ecosystems. Without their presence, opportunities for casual interaction shrink, and communities become more fragmented or isolated. As loneliness and social isolation rise across the country and has become a modern epidemic, the absence of vibrant ‘third places’, spaces outside of home and work has become increasingly noticeable. People are more connected digitally than ever yet often feel more disconnected in real life. Part of that solution is revitalizing what is common in other countries from Denmark to Colombia and from Spain to Turkey.

When I lived car-free across different countries and cities, my quality of life was inexorably more enjoyable and easier to get to know people. Making friends, running errands, and exploring is possible with a car but I found that exploring my new surroundings on foot and being able to get tea, coffee, or some food by foot in my local neighborhood made life in that new country or city much richer and more fun. Not needing a car was better for the environment and less expensive for my lifestyle and with having ride-sharing and good public transit options for where I was living in Istanbul, Medellin, or Mexico City, street and plaza life in each city across three continents was something I truly enjoyed taking full advantage of.

Other parts of the world often offer a clear contrast to how the U.S. has chosen to use its empty public spaces. In cities like Barcelona and Copenhagen, public space is treated as essential social infrastructure. Pedestrian-friendly streets, mixed-use neighborhoods, and a strong culture of outdoor living create environments where daily life naturally spills into the open regardless of what time of year it is, rain or shine. These cities are not necessarily more complex than U.S. cities, but they are simply designed with human behavior in mind including being able to walk, bike, or ride a scooter to where you need to go, which is much more environmentally friendly and cost-effective than needing to drive everywhere. There is real cultural emphasis on encouraging outdoor social life including showcasing musical performances, selling food and drinks in the open, and having benches, chairs, and tables for free gathering places at any time of the day or night.

You may be asking at this point: why has the United States struggled to follow suit in this way? The barriers are not just physical, but cultural and political. Car dependency is deeply ingrained in terms of cultural habits, and concerns around safety, public disorder, and accessibility often shape public opinion on encouraging street and plaza life to flourish without restrictions. At the same time, bureaucratic hurdles and zoning restrictions make it difficult to experiment with new ideas. The re-design and re-orientation of our physical landscapes would take decades or generations to construct including major financial costs and it would involve expanding transit and pedestrian friendly options, but I believe it would be worth it for future generations. Change is possible over time here, but it primarily requires a shift in cultural mindset and public policy.

Where progress has been made in the U.S. so far, the strategies are surprisingly straightforward. Expanding pedestrian zones and adding dedicated bike lanes in major cities, supporting street vendors and local businesses with easier permitting processes, and introducing outdoor dining and public events can quickly transform underused areas into vibrant gathering spaces. Small temporary interventions, often referred to as ‘tactical urbanism’, allow cities to test ideas before committing to permanent change. Importantly, good design alone is not enough. A well-designed plaza without any meaningful activity will remain empty; consistent programming and consistent use are what bring these unused spaces to life and keep people going there over time.

At a deeper level, successful public spaces tap into the psychology of place. People gather where they feel comfortable, stimulated, and welcomed. Elements like music, food, movement, and visual identity all contribute to whether a space feels alive or sterile. Safety matters, but so does the atmosphere where it’s welcoming, open, and engaging. A space can be technically safe yet feel uninviting if it lacks energy or purpose. Instead of holding events in asphalt parking lots or in lackluster fields without trees or any discernible nature will not stimulate the activity needed or generate the buzz needed so that the public spaces are going to need to thrive in the long run.

This is why revitalizing public space is about more than changes to urban planning; it is about rebuilding civic life in areas where it’s gone dormant or extinct entirely. Streets and plazas provide a shared environment where people from different backgrounds can coexist, interact, and develop a sense of mutual trust. In an increasingly polarized and digital society on top of being in a country where people don’t like to leave their vehicles or houses easily, these everyday interactions play a quiet but essential role in maintaining social cohesion and furthering progress for the town or city where locals and visitors are gathering.

In 2026, the urgency of this issue is only growing in terms of relevance. Hybrid and remote work arrangements have reshaped daily routines, leaving more flexibility for how and where people spend their time. At the same time, there is a growing desire, especially among younger generations, for experiences that feel authentic and communal, away from their phones and devices to reconnect with one another. American cities and towns that adapt to these shifts by prioritizing walkability, accessibility, and human-centered design will be better positioned for the future and achieve a higher quality of life for its residents and would help keep them living there for the long-term.

Revitalizing street and plaza life in the United States is not about copying other countries or eliminating cars entirely as part of our cultural memory. It is about restoring balance by creating welcoming spaces where people can once again gather, linger, and feel part of something larger than themselves and make new friends and acquaintances by doing so. When that happens consistently, streets stop being just pathways and start becoming places where life unfolds spontaneously.

Amager Beachpark

“A quiet stretch of sand just minutes from the heart of Copenhagen, Amager Strand feels like a small escape from the city. On a clear day, the Baltic breeze, cyclists rolling past, and the skyline in the distance make it the perfect place to slow down and soak in Danish summer.”

Camera: iPhone 15

Location: Amager Beachpark (Strand), Denmark

Don’t Sleepwalk Your Way Through Life

“As much as you want to go through life with a constant routine, when you instead establish new habits, hobbies, and places to visit, it’s best to mix it up and do what you can to make the most out of this one life you have.”

Turbulent times have a way of stripping life down to its essentials. It can make you appreciate what you have in life more and not take what you have for granted. When the headlines are gripping and uncertainty lingers each day, you realize how fragile our routines and habits really are. While it’s tempting to go through the motions and drift through our days on autopilot, by going to the same coffee house, driving the same commute, having the same conversations and making the same excuses, you should be taking off the autopilot instead and homing in more on what makes life enjoyable. As much as you want to go through life with a constant routine, when you instead establish new habits, hobbies, and places to visit, it’s best to mix it up and do what you can to make the most out of this one life you have.

I’ve caught myself sleepwalking before in my life. Not physically, but mentally. Waking up, checking my phone, answering emails, going through meetings, making the usual commute, working out at the same gym, eating dinner, scrolling, and sleeping. Productive on paper but not really waking up my senses to the full extent. This kind of routine can sap your spirit over time. It wasn’t that anything was wrong, but it can get boring after a while. That was the problem for me and for many others I suspect. There’s nothing wrong with what I was doing, and I still have my routine that I enjoy. However, nothing in my life was expanding either or challenging me enough. My life was efficient and that efficiency was quietly numbing me.

The truth is that living life on autopilot feels responsible, especially in adulthood. It feels mature and what is expected of us at a certain age. Routine keeps the bills paid and the calendar organized. Routine, when left unchecked, becomes a cage you build yourself and can be suffocating after a while. The brain loves predictability as it conserves its energy. Routine avoids discomfort and novelty unless you force yourself to be different and try new things. True growth doesn’t happen in conservation mode or by playing it safe. Growth demands friction and friction requires intention, which means making the effort to break the routine you impose on yourself.

For myself, it’s always been travel that has exposed the lie of living life on autopilot almost instantly, especially from my solo travels. It’s hard to drift through life when you can’t read the street signs, when you’re ordering food in broken Spanish, Turkish, or German, when you don’t fully understand the cultural cues or conversations around you. You’re alert, present, and living in the moment. The precious moments where you’re slightly uncomfortable but also feeling fully alive are the best for me. I live for those moments every chance I get to experience them even when they’re harder to come by as I get older. The colors and smells you sense feel sharper. Conversations feel deeper and livelier. Time stretches rather than drags me down. It’s not about how each country is magical but rather that you are fully awake and experiencing life more fully.

Waking up and taking yourself off autopilot isn’t dramatic, but it should be a deliberate effort. It’s choosing an unfamiliar conversation instead of a safe one. It’s taking a different route home. It’s signing up for something new you might be bad at but want to try anyway to see how it goes. It’s reading different books and engaging people who may not share the beliefs or views as you. It’s learning twenty new words in a language you don’t “need” but desire to learn to expand your horizons. It’s asking yourself, honestly, “When was the last time I felt truly engaged?”

You don’t need to burn your life down and leave your responsibilities behind, which is a false choice. You need to interrupt it and bring something into your life to make it more enjoyable.

Turbulent times are unsettling and especially at this moment we’re living in around the world. At the same time, they’re clarifying what really should matter to you. They remind you that stability and prosperity are never guaranteed. Political systems shift. Jobs will change. Borders can close. Health falters. Family and friendship ties fade. When you accept that inherent fragility to life, you stop assuming you have endless tomorrows to play around with. When tomorrow isn’t promised, living your life on autopilot becomes a risk you can’t afford to take.

You get one life. No rehearsal. No dress rehearsal. No backup plan for the 2nd one. The world is unpredictable enough so don’t make your inner world predictable too. Refuse to sleepwalk through the years as they go by faster. Shake up your routines. Question your assumptions, values, and beliefs. Chase what unsettles you in a healthy way. Stay curious about the world and the people in it. Stay moving as much as possible. Because the greatest tragedy in life isn’t the inevitable turbulence that will come your way. It’s the numbness you’ll experience if you don’t choose to make this life the best it can be.

Frederiksborg Castle

“Frederiksborg Castle in Hillerød, Denmark – a Renaissance masterpiece framed by water, silence, and centuries of Danish history.”

Camera: iPhone 15

Location: Frederiksborg Slot (Castle), Hillerød, Denmark

Architectural Brilliance in Copenhagen

Checking out different architectural styles and designs from different eras in Copenhagen’s history. In addition, exploring the Opera House, Nyhavn, and Frederik’s Church by foot and by boat during my stay in the Summer of 2024.

Camera: iPhone 15

Location: Copenhagen, Denmark

A Café Full of Blank Faces

“This surreal experience of mine in the local coffee shop was seeing mostly everyone except for myself wrapped up exclusively in their device, mobile, computer, or another kind of technology rather than interacting with their immediate surroundings.”

Surreal moments often catch you off guard and recently, one hit me in a coffee shop that I like to frequent. These moments are important to reflect on for better or worse though, to see how society has changed immeasurably and perhaps permanently. This surreal experience of mine in the local coffee shop was seeing mostly everyone except for myself wrapped up exclusively in their device, mobile, computer, or another kind of technology rather than interacting with their immediate surroundings.

It was shocking, usually there are a few people browsing their phones casually, catching up on work with their laptops, or just tracking their health data on their digital watch. However, when I looked around and saw that it was basically a sea of screens as each person was locked into their digital world rather than focused on the people there. It was a dystopian scene that is burned into my memory now so much so that I had to explore this societal change further.

In the U.S. especially, it seems like cafes or coffee houses are more for interacting with the digital realm rather than the physical realm, which is quite different from Europe and Latin America where the priority is to meet people or gather with friends or family. It is usually a mix, but in the U.S., cafes seem to have reached a turning point. They focus more on having people be there to work and endure loud or constant music being played in the background, and having people isolated rather than connecting with one another.

While there are still numerous cafes where people are still likely to do poetry slams, play trivia, and are welcoming gathering spaces, my concern is with how eerie it can be when some cafes are solely about work and technology rather than connection and leisure. There are some solutions out there and some bars I’ve heard are even implementing ‘no phones’ as an entry rule to help people to interact with each other rather than their own devices in a shared space.

I personally hope that the ‘no phones’ movement can spread to cafes, community centers, and other third spaces that are increasingly difficult to find in the U.S., especially where you don’t need to pay to sit down, talk, or get to know one another. Having a ‘no technology’ rule for set hours in cafés seems like a great idea to me, especially before or after work hours and making sure that cafes and co-working spaces are not merging to be the same. Community events with no phones would help people sharpen their social skills, minimize distractions, and connect without any devices competing for their attention.

It was jarring for me to see almost the whole café on some sort of device or another except for myself (even though I do tend to check my phone quickly here and there). However, I was meeting someone there so I wanted my attention to be paid to them as much as possible and I am for a technology ban so the connection we would form would be that much easier. Having a rule of ‘no phones’ in cafes or at least ‘no tech’ hours would probably make people happier, more sociable, and allow cafes to sell more to people who would have their undivided attention.

We used to get our dopamine from our social connections and that has been increasingly replaced by responsive AI chatbots, persistent social media notifications, and algorithms focused on our every need. It’s a losing battle right now but we may be at a precipice where people including myself realize that this isn’t sustainable and it isn’t healthy for society to indulge in without limits, even for adults.

One of my favorite shows growing up was ‘Friends’ and ‘Seinfeld’, where the all-American diner or the local café was a spot to hang out, talk, play music, and catch up on each other’s lives. These shows from the 1990s-2000s could not possibly be replicated today because the scenes would be showing almost everyone on their phone or laptop and the dialogues would be flat or lackluster. I want cafés, diners, and bars to be more than background noise for our technological devices. Instead, these places should be spaces to connect, to share, and to find a moment of human interaction in a world increasingly dominated by screens.

Cafés, diners, and bars should be refuges from screens, spaces to connect, share, and find a moment of human interaction in a world dominated by devices. It’s time to reclaim these public places, not just for nostalgia, but for our social health. We still need public places to provide a respite from the hustle and bustle of daily life, to let us express ourselves freely, to meet new people, to practice community, and maybe even make some new friends.