Meet Maria Saenz

I grew up in Bogotá, but I also grew up in one of the most biodiverse countries on Earth: Colombia. It's the kind of place where, in a single day, you can leave home wearing a puffer jacket in the high-altitude Andes and, a couple of hours later, be barefoot in a swimsuit in the tropical heat. That's Colombia.

Drive a little farther, and the music changes. The accent changes. The food changes. The landscape changes. The culture changes.

Growing up surrounded by that kind of diversity made me endlessly curious. I learned early on that there isn't just one way to live, celebrate or tell stories. Every region has its own personality, and every place has something to teach you if you're willing to pay attention.

I think that's exactly how I travel today. I'm naturally drawn to understanding what makes a place unique—not just the scenery, but the people, the traditions, and the relationship they have with the land they call home. That's the kind of travel that stays with you long after you've unpacked your suitcase.

Probably that I get excited about almost everything. I'm the person pointing out the cool bakery, convincing everyone we have to take the little side street, getting overly excited about a really good tomato, and somehow ending up in long conversations with complete strangers. I laugh a lot, I'm wildly curious, and I firmly believe enthusiasm is contagious.

"La Bicicleta," Shakira and Carlos Vives. The second it comes on, every Colombian in the room becomes a backup singer and someone starts air-accordioning. Fun fact: I was obsessed with the accordion as a kid. I begged my grandma until she caved and got me one, then spent days teaching myself to play. Then it mysteriously disappeared. My parents deny all involvement. I'm not convinced.

Centolla at the Central Market in Santiago, Chile. Picture a loud seafood market, a king crab the size of my head, garlic butter everywhere, and me cracking shells like I'd been doing it my whole life. I grew up watching Deadliest Catch — my inner 10-year-old could not believe she was finally eating the crab. It lived up to the hype.

A snorkel mask, a really good straw hat, and a lime. The snorkel doesn't surprise anyone anymore — it ends up in my suitcase even when we're only going to a pool. The hat is non-negotiable; I collect them everywhere I go, and a deserted island is finally the moment my collection has been waiting for. And the lime, because a lime fixes almost everything. Fresh fish, ceviche, sparkling water. I refuse to be stranded without citrus.

Perspective. That so many things we take for granted aren't universal, they're just one way of doing it, and there are a thousand ways to build a good life. Also that most of what felt overwhelming before the trip looks a lot smaller once you've stepped out of your routine. And I hope they learn to travel lighter. Not just fewer clothes — less attached to the plan, more open to the surprise.

The relationship between people and their landscapes. Why people eat what they eat, how geography shapes a tradition, why one flower becomes an entire festival. Most people notice the view first. I'm usually wondering what's growing next to it. Some people collect handbags. I collect seeds.

Tell me the vibe and I'll send you a playlist — I have one for everything. The sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs one for when the car has officially run out of things to say. Afrobeat for when the energy dips. A lot of Spanish music. And yes, a healing-frequencies playlist. My weak spot is English-language music, so bring recommendations.