Type 1 fun is fun while it's happening. Type 2 fun is miserable in the moment and legendary forever. This spring — two months, three countries, and a truly unhinged number of things going wrong — was the most Type 2 fun I've had in years.

I went on The Cabin Podcast to talk about the best of a Wisconsin summer, and we came up with a list that would make any top-ten roundup blush. Bat studies, dark sky parks, a cheese curd crawl you download an app for — no 14-hour flight required.

Look, I get it. When I tell people I live in Wisconsin, they usually follow up with "...but why?" Like somehow choosing to call the Midwest home means I've given up on adventure entirely. Spoiler alert: I haven't. Here's the thing nobody tells you about travel—sometimes the most transformative experiences happen in your own backyard. And if your backyard happens to be the Midwest? Even better.

Type 2 fun: miserable in the middle, legendary forever. It's the safari stuck in the mud, the trip that broke you open, the story you'll tell for thirty years. Here's what it means — and why I built a whole travel company on it.

I once watched a traveler shotgun wine out of a clay roof tile in a Kakheti courtyard while a Georgian family cheered. That's Georgia—8,000 years of winemaking and the most relentless hospitality on Earth. Here's why I keep going back, and taking people with me.

Adults don't need another happy hour that ends by 8:30. They need recess. Fifty campers, one Wisconsin lake, real beds, and a group chat that outlives the weekend.

After the hardest spring of my career — a resignation, four international trips, and a house sale from abroad — here's what I learned about burnout, rebuilding, and why the hard seasons are usually the ones that change everything.

It's pitch black on a back road in Cuba. The classic car has quit. Two of the smallest women on the trip are pushing it down a hill while the driver insists he must steer. Nikki is off in the weeds being sick. And the way the car eventually got fixed? Cigarette smoke blown on the engine and a tree branch.

That is the part of travel nobody puts in the brochure. And it's the part you'll be telling people about for the rest of your life.

In this post, three true stories — a broken-down Cuban Chevy, a car stuck in Moroccan mud that four men couldn't budge, and the night I crashed a Bogotá quinceañera because a stranger called me over from across the street. Plus the actual field guide: what to pack, what to trust, and how to tell the difference between danger and discomfort when you're traveling abroad.

A sustainable travel beauty routine doesn't have to mean compromising on performance or spending an hour at security. It means knowing which five products actually work, which labels to ignore, and which certifications actually mean something.

This post breaks it all down — reef safe mineral sunscreen that doubles as moisturizer, a pre-swim hair treatment that protects against saltwater and UV damage for up to eight hours, plastic-free shampoo bars that skip the TSA liquid line entirely, and a few plane skincare essentials that make long-haul travel significantly less brutal on your skin.

Everything here is inspired by a conversation with Christina Kuklinski, founder of Kook, who spent two years diving the world's most protected reef systems and built an entire brand because nothing on the market worked without harming the ocean. Shop the full sustainable travel beauty list and find out what to actually look for on the label.

You know that thick booklet that arrives in the mail when you get a new credit card? The one you immediately toss in a drawer or place straight in the recycling bin? That booklet is basically free money you're leaving on the table.

I had this conversation on a recent episode of Type 2 Travel with Katie Holden, founder of Katie's Travel Tricks and host of the Points for Normal People podcast. Katie taught herself the points and miles game by doing something almost nobody does: actually reading the fine print. And what she found changed how she travels.

Where do you eat in a city with over 17,500 restaurants? You could open Instagram, find a place with thousands of likes and a two-hour wait, and hope for the best. Or you could ask Alec Johnson — a New Yorker with no social media, strong opinions, and decades of knowing where the good stuff is before anyone else does. I've been visiting Alec for years, and his unofficial food tours have become my single favorite thing to do in the city. This is that list — every place he's taken me, fed me, or sent me to with very specific instructions about what to order. From $5 carnitas tacos in Alphabet City to omakase in Queens, a hidden cocktail bar inside Grand Central, and what might genuinely be the best pizza in New York — organized by neighborhood so you can actually use it.

Alone UK winner Tom Williams spent 35 days solo in the Canadian wilderness and came out with one clear lesson: fear is almost never as big as the reality. Here's what he learned about discomfort, growth, and why the trips that scare you are the ones that change you.

Coming home from a trip doesn't have to mean losing everything you felt while you were there. This post walks through practical, emotional, and everyday ways to weave your travels into your life long after you've unpacked.

What happens when you spend your life exploring the world through its flavors? You develop opinions—strong ones. I recently sat down with Emmanuel Laroche, author of A Taste of Madagascar and host of the Flavors Unknown podcast, to talk about the destinations that have shaped his palate and changed his perspective on food, culture, and travel. Here are his top picks (plus a few of my own) for where to go when you want food to be more than just fuel and instead be the whole point of the journey.

I didn't go to Ecuador. My friend Krista did — on 11 days' notice, completely alone, because the travel industry had other plans. She went in with zero expectations and came back a self-proclaimed birdwatcher who ate octopus in the Amazon, got a cacao facial in the cloud forest, and nearly became a snake snack on a river bridge. Here's everything she came back saying about why Ecuador needs to be on your list.

I have a t-shirt that says "Sorry, I Saw a Cat." It exists because it is, without exaggeration, the most accurate description of what happens to me on every trip I take. Turns out, my chaotic cat-chasing habit might actually be the best thing I do for my travel experience — and travel writer Jeff Bogle has the proof.

Most people plan their trips backward — locked into dates, destination, and airline before they even ask what they actually want from travel. Here's why flexibility is the best travel hack nobody talks about.

I'm moving in with my boyfriend in a few weeks. He has two kids. I'll be co-parenting 50% of the time. And suddenly, I don't fit neatly into any of the boxes I thought defined me. The child-free community probably sees me as a sellout. The moms are like, "But you don't have real kids." So where exactly do the people like me go now?

I built a travel business to have more freedom. By year five, I was working 80-hour weeks, leading a dozen trips a year, and dreading the thing I loved most. Here's what I'm changing — and why.

Georgia's food scene hit different. After our first group trip there, I'm still dreaming about three specific dishes—so here are the recipes. Make khachapuri (cheese bread with egg), khinkali (fist-sized soup dumplings), and nigvziani badrijani (walnut eggplant rolls) at home. Fair warning: they'll never quite match eating them in a Georgian family's home while wine-drunk on homemade chacha, but we're trying anyway.