• I've planned girls' trips with friends for years, but it's been harder to coordinate them over time.
• We all have a lot going on, and many of us have kids who can be especially tough to plan around.
• Our adults-only trips aren't going anywhere, but we now plan group trips with our daughters, too.

Since college, I've been fortunate to have a big, close-knit group of girlfriends — and I've prioritized nurturing those friendships.

I especially love strengthening our bonds during getaways, and in my group, I handle planning and coordinating the girls' trips.

Since the '90s, I've spearheaded countless getaways for our group — from raging college spring breaks (New Orleans) to bachelorette parties and divorce parties (both Vegas), to milestone birthdays (my 21st in NYC and 30th in Jamaica), to healing retreats after illness and loss.

These trips have been a great source of joy, laughter, healing, and countless memories — one that sustains us through distance and life's tribulations.

I'm determined to keep up the girls' trip tradition, especially as life looks different for all of us.

There are more factors to consider now that we're adults with full lives

In our teens and early 20s, finding time and space for bonding was easy because many of us lived together and had few distractions.

As life has gone on, those opportunities for connection have become fewer and more difficult to coordinate. We no longer live under one roof, and many of us aren't even in the same city.

In our group, there are big jobs, spouses or partners, ailing and elderly parents, a wide range of disposable incomes, and home projects.

For many of us, there are also kids. This element, in particular, makes it harder for people to commit to dates and make a trip happen: There's homework to do, drop-off and pick-up schedules to coordinate, and sometimes no partner who can help.

It can be hard to prioritize time for yourself as a parent, let alone make time for a trip with friends.

A recent change of plans helped me approach girls' trips in a new way

My last girls' trip to Palm Springs was an impulsive overnight stay at an Airbnb oasis with a jewel box of a pool amid a historic heat wave.

My friend had intended to celebrate her anniversary with her husband and daughter there — but when he got sick, she invited my daughter and I to join for a two-generation girls-only sleepover instead.

While we hung out, our daughters (ages 7 and 10) had fun among themselves. When we all came together, we did pedicures and facials, had cannonball contests, and shared a huge tray of nachos by the pool.

This arrangement was fun and rewarding, plus it eased some of the logistical burdens involved in coordinating childcare. It also helped me realize how nice it could be to incorporate our daughters into some of our trips.

Mom-daughter trips won't replace our old format entirely. Importantly, some friends in our group have no kids (and no interest in spending leisure time with them), and some have only sons.

Still, I'm hoping the two-generation girls' trip flourishes as one extension of a cherished tradition in our expanded circle as life goes on.

Most of all, I'm thrilled to expose the next generation to the soul-satisfying joy of girls' trips, a travel style that I believe nurtures friendships and supports sanity across all stages of life.

• It's not the most popular take, but I don't like celebrating the holiday season.
• Instead, I book long, international trips to places I've always wanted to visit but never had time.
• I love getting to see a new part of the world and give that priceless experience to my kids.

When my children were little, I felt the magic of the holidays deep in my bones.

Nearly every weekend, we dashed to see a light display or rode the Polar Express while drinking cups of rich hot chocolate.

Then, my kids got older.

As tweens and teens, they became hard to please. They seemed impervious to the joyful spirit of the holidays, grumbling when I booked holiday events and complaining about the gifts I chose for them.

I know this is developmentally appropriate, but it hurts. Last year, I decided to opt out of Christmas in favor of something I love: travel.

Instead of spending time and money on creating an extravagant day that would be stressful and (likely) unappreciated, I took my family on a trip to Morocco.

It was such a great experience that I've made international travel our new holiday tradition.

December happens to work for all our schedules

There's no substitute for seeing the world and getting an up-close look at different cultures and ways of life. I also think it's the best way to raise empathetic, open-minded children, and I'm very fortunate to be able to provide them with these experiences.

However, my kids' school schedules make it hard to go anywhere for more than a few days. I try to make the most of our summers, but that's when it's hot and crowded in many parts of the world.

Luckily, the kids reliably have an extended school break around Christmas each year, making the holidays an ideal time for our family to travel.

It's refreshing to visit parts of the world where Christmas is just like any other day

Another big reason I travel during the holidays is to escape the stress of them, so I like to pick destinations where Christmas isn't widely celebrated.

In many parts of the world, it's just an ordinary day, so attractions aren't closed — aka, we don't sacrifice any vacation time.

Last year, in Morocco, I saw a smattering of holiday lights and small Christmas trees, mostly in hotels. That was perfect for me because I felt very little pressure to make Christmas Day magical.

I've figured out how to make holiday travel as easy as possible

In order to make holiday travel easier, I book group tours.

Although I didn't originally intend to travel this way, I planned last year's trip in a rush, so it was the easiest and fastest way to make sure we could cover a lot of ground in the time we had.

It turns out that not having to worry about booking hotels or planning the logistics of getting from place to place was a welcome reprieve.

Even though I had more time this year, I decided to skip the stress and use the same tour company as a gift to myself.

I may not like Christmas, but I'm not a complete Scrooge

Skipping the holidays isn't for everyone, but it works for me.

Even though I no longer have the will to create an elaborate Christmas at home, I don't want my children to miss out completely.

Every year since my kids were little, I've taken them to the over-the-top Christmas displays at Gaylord National Resort in Maryland, and that has continued. We do all the Christmas things in a single day, from building gingerbread houses to seeing Santa.

It's the perfect way to continue a holiday tradition without any pressure to be perfect — and minimal whining from my kids.

Additionally, I've always believed that experiences are better than physical gifts, and now that we travel, I keep presents to a minimum. However, on Christmas Day, I let my kids choose a special souvenir to commemorate the holiday.

• When I watched "Gilmore Girls" as a single mom I felt inspired by Lorelai Gilmore's parenting.
• In many ways, the show became my guide for being a young single parent.
• I admire Lorelai's close relationship with her child and how she's also her friend.

When "Gilmore Girls" aired, I was in high school and had no interest in the show.

The series mostly followed quirky single mom Lorelai as she tried to build a career while maintaining a super-close relationship with her teenage daughter, Rory, who had her sights set on Harvard.

As an unruly teenager unsure of my future, I couldn't relate to either character.

Years later, though, when my son was almost 2, I caught an old rerun of the show. As a young single mom adjusting to parenting alone, I could suddenly see myself in Lorelai.

As I kept watching, I found "Gilmore Girls" felt like the guide to navigating motherhood on my own — one I desperately needed.

Lorelai showed me it's OK to be friends with your child

Back then, my son and I made up our entire primary family, so I felt that I needed to fill in a lot of gaps. Without siblings or another parent in our home, I wanted to be more than just his mom.

Some fans criticize Lorelai for being too much of a friend to Rory and not enough of a mother, but I didn't see it that way. It's nice that they hung out often, had fun, and confided in and supported each other.

I found their tight-knit bond to be exemplary of how a parent and child should interact. Their relationship became something I aspired to have with my own child.

As my kid's gotten older, we talk often, and I make sure he knows he can tell me anything. Lorelai and Rory did the same, and in the process, they built trust and became more than just mother and daughter.

In my eyes, their relationship proved being friends with your kid isn't unhealthy — it's something to hope for.

The show also inspired me to elevate our daily lives whenever I can

I liked Lorelai's habit of making the ordinary extraordinary for her kid, whether she was bedazzling Rory's hammer for her volunteer work or switching up dinner with an around-the-world sampling of takeout from local restaurants.

With that, "Gilmore Girls" also inspired me to find ways to make every day special for me and my son.

Finding ways to dress up our lives with things that made us smile or laugh helped keep us both grateful for what we had, which was mostly each other.

Sometimes I still ask myself what Lorelai would do

As a single parent, I felt like I was navigating so much of life alone — but Lorelai Gilmore has always been there for me as I've found my way as a mom.

It's easy for me to always imagine her doing what's best for Rory like I try to do for my son, which has made me feel like I had someone in my corner as I've made difficult decisions as a parent.

Although I know Lorelai is not a real person, "Gilmore Girls" has since become my parenting handbook on how to be the kind of mom I hope I am.

• Paul Chai is an Australian dad with two teenage sons — one is 18, and the other is 14.
• Chai says his younger son doesn't make friends quickly and Snapchat has helped.
• He's not convinced that a social media ban on young teenagers is what Australian parents want.

My 14-year-old son often rolls his eyes when I talk politics, but he has taken a keen interest in the topic lately, since Australia's government has decided to ban everyone in the country from accessing social media until they turn 16.

He got his own phone and started using social media earlier than I would have liked. It was 2021, he was 12, and Melbourne had been in lockdown for over six months. Melbourne's lockdown during the pandemic added up to 262 days, the longest cumulative lockdown in the world.

At the time, my wife and I decided that giving our son a phone seemed less harmful than months of isolation. Looking back, he has become quite attached to his device.

I recognize that social media can harm children. It can do the same to adults, to reputations, and to democracy. But what concerns me about my country's new policy, which was announced on November 21, is the lack of nuance and public discussion.

Losing the good with the bad

With his parents' help and guidance, my son now has what I consider a pretty healthy relationship with social media. He is online, but he also loves travel, gets out a lot with friends, runs in Parkrun, and plays drums in a couple of bands.

Online, he uses TikTok to discover new music, Snapchat to keep up with friends who live far away, and Signal to communicate with his grandparents who live abroad. He and I share a love of movies, and I enjoy how he is almost always ahead of me when it comes to the latest releases and entertainment news that he finds online.

We have a family group chat on WhatsApp that helps us manage our daily lives and allows us to share memes with each other.

My son is worried the ban will cut him off from far-flung friends. He has also talked about wanting to get his first job as soon as he turns 15 and wonders if he will face barriers to work communications. His older brother, who just turned 18, has been receiving his work shifts via social media chats for a few years.

Australia's government has said the social media ban will apply to Facebook, Snapchat, Reddit, Instagram, and X. Certain chat-based social media, including Messenger Kids, WhatsApp, Kids Helpline, Google Classroom, and YouTube, will not be banned. A decision on other messaging apps — like Signal, Discord, and Google Chat — has not yet been made.

"We know social media is doing social harm," Prime Minister Anthony Albanese said in the November media release. "This is a landmark reform. We know some kids will find workarounds, but we're sending a message to social media companies to clean up their act," he continued.

The government has announced that tech companies have one year to stop minors from logging into their social media platforms or risk up to 49,500,000 Australian dollars, or $32,000,000, in fines.

Albanese also said that neither underage users nor their parents will face punishment for violations.

But what I worry about is that the ban will sweep away all the positives of my son's online life in an attempt to tackle the negatives.

In June, just a few months before the social media ban was passed, Australia's eSafety commissioner, Julie Inman Grant, suggested that a ban on social media for kids may not be a cure-all. "Social media may also provide a range of opportunities that are protective of mental health, such as inclusion, social connection and belonging," the commissioner said, per The Guardian.

Grant's statement reminded me of my own son using social media to build friendships. It also made me think of the under-16 LGBTQ+ Australians and rural communities who have formed friendships and found acceptance online.

Is this what parents want?

While I have read a lot about Australian parents supporting this ban, it was only recently that I came across someone who agreed with it.

A father I spoke to, who was in favor of the ban, has a teenage daughter. He told me that she's obsessed with her phone and has even threatened to self-harm if it were taken away from her. He said that a nationwide ban will help him wean her off her online addiction.

Within my community, most parents I've discussed this with have said they don't want the government to control their parenting any more than they do their bodies.

My son doesn't make friends quickly, and many of his current friendships have grown stronger online. I don't see it as a replacement for their IRL get-togethers but as a complement.

Many of us who grew up without social media tend to romanticize our childhoods. While I did a fair bit of running around the neighborhood with mates as a kid, I also remember spending hours on the phone talking to girlfriends when I was a teenager.

I also had pen pals in America with whom I would spend hours corresponding; in-person communication is not the only way to form strong bonds.

• In college, Wendy Altschuler studied abroad in India.
• She traveled back 20 years later, eager to bring along her husband and three sons.
• It showed her how different it feels to travel in your 20s alongside students versus exploring with kids in tow.

It was dark when I arrived in India, the air was slothful with a gluey viscosity. I was still in college and had never traveled this far away from home before.

I hadn't decided to study abroad in India on a whim. I had spent months preparing, saving, and studying. Delving deep, I was fully immersed in my classes, reading every book on the recommended list and watching every film.

I also spent a lot of time wandering along Chicago's Devon Avenue, or Little India, which was home to 15 blocks of South Asian restaurants and shops at the time.

Of course, none of this prepared me for what I experienced in Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur: the Golden Triangle.

Studying abroad in India

During my last year in school, as part of my study-abroad program, I volunteered at a children's home about 90 minutes south of Delhi. Through my work, I learned the power of Jugaad, a Hindi word — an ethos, really — which compels one to make the most of what one has, even if it's very little.

After a day of serving others, I'd return to the YMCA, my home in New Delhi at the time. I'd meet up with classmates to chat about the day's discoveries. I'd share about how generous and selfless it was for the home leaders to help. Others would discuss how difficult it was to witness families living on the street.

More than once during my first stay, a stranger welcomed me into their home, often just two rooms for their entire family. They would offer me a hot cup of tea or a bangle for my wrist. The people who ostensibly had the least seemed hell-bent on giving the most.

This was a formative time in my life, an era of tipping my toe into what might be possible for my future. The kindness and sincerity of the people I met in India, both at the children's home and also in other places I visited, made an indelible impression on me.

I returned 20 years later with my three sons

So, when I got the opportunity to bring my three boys to India two decades later, I raised my hand.

As a travel writer, I've had the opportunity to visit many countries around the world, and as a result, I've accumulated a fair amount of airline miles. My husband, who also travels for work, does the same.

We decided to cash in our miles and book a family trip to South and Southeast Asia, taking advantage of extended layovers. This included four days lighting up all five of our senses in India.

We made the most of our limited time by visiting some of Delhi's landmarks, including Red Fort, Chandni Chowk, Humayun's Tomb, India Gate, Lotus Temple, and Jama Masjid. These were all the same locales my feet had wandered through as a university student.

We hired human-powered cycle rickshaws to explore the constricted streets of Old Delhi, where hundreds of snaking power cords blocked out the sky above. I watched my sons' eyes widen as we narrowly avoided itinerant goats, men and women carrying hefty bundles on their heads, beeping motorbikes, and green and yellow tuk-tuks.

The most distinctive stop for me was the timeworn YMCA. I didn't recognize it, truly, until I saw the hallway leading to the bedrooms where I could picture myself running down the stairs, a palpable sensation where I remembered unerringly how I felt when I was young, well before the demands of adulthood and motherhood.

In a snap of a finger, so powerfully poignant that errant tears escaped down my cheeks, I was now standing there, in the exact same spot, with my husband and three children. Time is wild.

Later, we'd leave Delhi and travel to Agra, stopping off at the famous Taj Mahal. A multi-generational family of women smiled and asked to have a photo with me at Agra Fort, and each time I spotted them around the grounds, we would all wave and giggle, verifying that the warmth and adoration were mutually felt.

In Jaipur, the Pink City, my 15-year-old middle son met a man who coaxed a green bird out of a cage. The bird then selected a red card with his beak, a delightful fortune of goodwill. When the rain poured down in sheets while visiting Chandra Mahal and City Palace, my boys dared each other to step out from under the safety of the overhang and get soaked — a dare my youngest took hook, line, and sinker.

Looking at the photos that my kids had taken later — elephants walking in the road, magnified details of gems stuck in walls, garbage on the ground, and plenty of goofy selfies — I recognized that they were going through something completely different on this journey than I was, which is the magic of travel.

Sojourning in India during my 20s with other students was undoubtedly a much different opportunity than seeing the country with my family in tow. We can all wander through the same destination together, but our ages, life experiences, and circumstances will always dictate a unique, personalized adventure. It's up to us to assign meaning to what we experience.

India is fragrant smoke, turmeric powder, mustard seeds, and dangling strings of chilies; tight round marigolds, fresh jasmine, and bursting bougainvillea; raucous tuk-tuks and inert cows. It's humidity, then a deluge of rain then beams of sunshine. It's smiles under draping colorful scarves and a bob of the head. There's an effervescence that must be experienced firsthand to comprehend, to believe, to feel.

My boys will likely be unpacking their journey for years to come, just as I am decades later still; and perhaps, in 20 more years, we will meet in the country of curry, textiles, forts, and flowers once again.

• I learned to play golf as a young girl and was often frustrated with the game.
• Dealing with a lot of ups and downs on the golf course has taught me to regulate my emotions.
• Thanks partly to golf, I am confident in my ability to stay calm as an adult.

I still remember one of the first times I lost it on the golf course.

I was around 10 years old, using the set of kid's clubs I'd gotten for Christmas. First, my ball squirted off into the woods. My next swing missed the ball entirely, and the one after that sent it into a tree trunk and back at my feet.

I can still feel the way the frustration surged through me, an emotion I didn't yet know how to deal with. "I hate golf, I want to go home!" I whined, throwing my club on the ground before a full-on meltdown ensued.

That wasn't the first time I'd flipped out on the golf course, nor the last. Although I continued playing as I grew up, I struggled to manage the waves of emotion that came with the sport. When my round was going well, I was on top of the world — but when the ball wasn't going where I wanted it to, I was exasperated.

In time, though, I learned how to regulate my emotions while playing — a valuable skill that eventually carried over to other aspects of my life.

Golf can be a frustrating sport, but I started to work on managing my emotions as I played

When you're swinging a club in an arc around your body to hit a tiny golf ball toward a hole with a 4.25-inch diameter, there's no room for error.

It can feel like much of your performance is out of your hands, and that lack of control can be stressful.

But swing by swing, I learned how to regulate my emotions even when the game wasn't going as I'd hoped. When a bad shot set off a fire in my belly, I would take a deep breath and let it go. I had no choice — I couldn't indulge my moods in the middle of a round, especially in a competitive setting.

As a tween, I began to recognize patterns, noting how my mind would jump to the worst-case scenario for my score as soon as I messed up one shot.

Identifying those patterns was the first step toward changing them. Now, it takes more than just a bad shot or two to rattle me.

That ability to regulate my emotions has helped me off the course, too

When I dealt with a terrible illness at 14, I relied on the emotion-regulating tools I'd learned on the golf course to steady myself even when in pain.

As I experienced dramatic mood swings in high school, I knew to ground myself in the knowledge that these emotions were fleeting.

Just as a dark cloud of emotion would evaporate on the golf course as soon as I hit a good shot or parred a hole, the same would happen in these everyday situations.

Now as an adult in my mid-20s, I give golf a lot of the credit for getting me where I am — and the valuable skills I've developed so far are just one of many reasons I keep stepping back onto the course.

• In September, Katka Lapelosova took a solo trip to Greece.
• While she enjoyed the six days in Zakynthos, it wasn't the stress-free vacation she'd hoped for.
• If she could do it over, she'd travel there with friends and rent a car.

Now that I live in Europe, I love how easy it is to visit different countries. Since leaving New York City in 2020, I aim to travel at least once a month.

In September, I decided it was time for a solo trip to a Greek island to live out my "Mamma Mia" dreams. My friends recommended Santorini and Mykonos, but those islands were expensive, and I was nervous about them being overcrowded.

I researched a few alternatives, like Corfu, Zakynthos, and Rhodes, and settled on Zakynthos, partly due to photos of a shipwreck I'd seen on Instagram.

I wanted to see if the water was really the color of Colgate toothpaste, but more than that, I just needed a seaside break to relax and help me reset. My beach vacation in Greece was very much what I needed, but there are some things I would change if I had the chance for a vacation redo.

1. Spend time in Athens

I had an overnight layover in Athens, so I spent one night in the city center before heading to Zakynthos. Friends had told me I only needed a day in the city, saying that there wasn't much to see or do. The city took me by surprise, though, and I wish I'd had more time there.

Outside the incredible historic Greek archaeology, I didn't have enough time for the art museums or festivals. While the residential architecture wasn't as charming as what I saw on the island, the mix of classical designs, modern restaurants, and cocktail bars all looked worthy of a visit.

2. Avoid the party zones

Once I got to Zakynthos, the energy level changed. I was greeted by the chaos of gap year travelers living out the last days of summer. I had read that the island was a hot spot for college-aged travelers, but I figured it was big enough that we could keep our distance. But despite my accommodation being just outside the main party zone of Laganas, I shared a floor with a group of eight rowdy college kids. I was thankful that I'd packed earplugs.

In hindsight, I should have done more research on other parts of the island. While some locals told me Zakynthos has parties wherever you go, others said that renting a villa can be a good alternative for finding a bit of peace and quiet. They said that visitors who stay more inland can rent a car and drive to the beach, as most coastlines can be reached in a few minutes.

3. Rent a car to explore more of the island

Renting a car would have been a great idea overall, but my plan had been to take buses. In true island fashion, these ran on their own schedule

One day in Zakynthos, I waited over an hour for a bus that never came. Taxis proved to be just as unreliable, with many canceling or not showing up when I tried to book them by phone.

While I was able to make the most of Laganas, the island's village and beach resort, I feel like there was more I could have explored. I was limited to the nearby beaches, which were not super crowded but not very serene or peaceful either.

I also didn't realize that it was much easier to get to the shipwreck by car. Only one tour company offered to drive people there, so I had to work around their schedule to see it.

4. Travel with friends instead of going solo

Normally, I opt for solo travel. I find it to be the least stressful. But I often felt lonely on Zakynthos because I saw big groups of people everywhere I went — not just college kids either, but multi-generational families and honeymooning couples, all having fun in the sun around me.

I watched a lot of them enjoying the outdoor and water activities that Greece has to offer. Small boats can be rented to sail around the island, take tours of water caves and go diving or snorkeling, grab a few mopeds or four-wheelers and drive around, party on a booze cruise, or enjoy inflatable water playgrounds along the beach.

While I could have done some of those things on my own, I knew they'd be more fun with a big group of friends to share the excitement.

5. Understand the difference between beachfront and beach access

One of the biggest things I'd change about my Greek island trip is booking a hotel that had beach access. "Beachfront" doesn't necessarily mean you can just walk right out to the beach from your hotel, or at least not on Zakynthos.

While my accommodation was next to the beach, if I wanted to spend time lounging in the sun, I had to pay for a crummy cappuccino or an overpriced bottle of water for the privilege.

I didn't realize this before I booked my trip, but locals told me it's common. Many cafés, restaurants, and bars own beach access, and while most just ask that you purchase some food or drinks, some require you to rent a beach chair and umbrella or even buy a day pass.

Next time, I'll read more reviews or even contact the property and ask if they have a beach for their guests. I only saw "beachfront" on my booking website and realized after spending a few days there that what I needed was "beach access" or "private beach."

• I've played golf since I was old enough to hold a club, and I love the sport.
• When teaching my husband to golf, I felt undermined by strangers assuming he was the skilled one.
• These days, golf feels like a "boys' club" to me and I no longer like playing around strangers.

I've been golfing for about as long as I can remember. As a young girl, I'd accompany my father (an author and golf writer) onto the course, where he'd let me tee up from the 100-yard marker.

During the summer, my family didn't go to Disney World or buy the latest gadgets and trendy clothing — we joined a nine-hole course and played golf a couple of times a week.

Soon enough I was entering local golf tournaments, and by my senior year, I was captain of my high school's golf team. I was never even close to good enough to play professionally, but I did win a tournament here and there.

For much of my life, golf was an activity that brought me a lot of joy and a sense of accomplishment. This started to change as I got older.

I felt like an outsider on the course once I started showing my husband how to golf

In my mid-20s, I began teaching my husband how to golf.

We were often matched up with strangers on the first tee, and I discovered pretty quickly that the other people we played with (mostly men — they make up the vast majority of golfers) seemed to assume that my husband was teaching me the game and not the other way around … until they saw us hit.

One time, I approached the white (middle) tees on the first hole. Before I could put my tee in the ground, one of the men we were playing with pointed to the red tees meant for beginners and called: "Wait! The ladies' tees are up there."

Rather than respond directly (a few choice words came to mind), I teed up my ball and smashed it straight down the fairway.

There were a few times during my early years in golf when I felt looked down upon for being a woman in the sport — like when guys complained about being "beaten by a girl" in high-school matches — but I generally felt like I belonged.

That changed when I started playing golf as part of a couple. Often, I feel relegated to the role of "wife," as if I only exist in relation to the man by my side.

It's common to see men teaching their significant others the game, so I understand the assumption, but that doesn't mean it feels good.

Sometimes I feel like strangers are expecting me to fail

Some men single me out when I'm practicing and offer unsolicited advice or respond with calls of "good shot!" whenever I make contact with the ball or act surprised once they see I know the game.

Even though they often mean well, it feels condescending.

I wish I could let these interactions roll off my back, but they make me self-conscious, a feeling that then seeps into my game and messes up my swing. It's gotten so bad that I now go to great lengths to avoid playing with strangers.

Some of the kindest, most respectful people I've played with have been men — but I do believe golf is still very much a "boys' club."

Until that changes, I won't feel completely comfortable playing the sport I used to love.

Still, I'm hopeful change could be on the horizon. Since the pandemic, the number of female golfers has increased far more rapidly than the number of male golfers — and the Ladies Professional Golf Association (LPGA) had its best-ever TV ratings last year.

Maybe now's the time for golf to tap into the growing momentum of women's sports, in the hopes that the next generation of female golfers will feel more respected on the course than I ever did.

• Sinead Mulhern has been living in Ecuador for six years.
  
• Earlier this year, she spent a week in the hospital due to a collapsed lung, a severe complication of pneumonia.
• The support she received from the hospital staff and her friends confirmed that moving there was the right decision.

I was lying wide awake on a hospital bed in Ecuador, hoping for sleep yet fearful that if I dozed off, I'd miss something crucial.

Everything had come as a big surprise. The day before, I was standing by lime-green valleys, planning mountain adventures. As bachata beats blared from market stalls and birds of prey soared above, I thought about camping nearby and watching the sun sink below a sea of clouds. Or, I could return to the Monopoly board-like Andean town nearby and explore its river valleys.

But as I was daydreaming about adventures, I noticed something was wrong. I'd been having trouble breathing for a few days. As an avid runner and hiker, it felt strange that I could barely climb the steps to my apartment.

At the hospital in Cuenca — the city where I have been living for the past six years and about 200 miles south of Quito, Ecuador — I had a tube running between my ribs into the space between my lungs, an oxygen mask, and some answers. While I'd been in the countryside, my right lung had been collapsing. A severe — and rare — complication of pneumonia.

It got serious quickly

I returned to the doctor's clinic for a second visit after it was clear that an asthma inhaler and the medication hadn't helped. I had assumed I was in for a course of antibiotics and an early night.

Instead, I was sent for X-rays, and based on the technician's questions, I sensed this was more serious than I thought: "Were you in an accident?" "Are you a heavy smoker?" "Did you fall?" "Could something have caused blunt-force trauma?" I raised a brow. No to all of the above.

"We have to go to the hospital right now," my doctor told me after confirming that my right lung had collapsed. "I'm surprised you're even standing up talking to me right now."

It was a whirlwind evening. I messaged my friend Sanja, asking her to meet me at the hospital and bring a few essentials. I had been told that a surgeon was on her way and that they would perform a bronchoscopy, a procedure that involves inserting a tube between the lungs to examine the airways. Following this, a catheter would be inserted in between my lungs to drain the air buildup that had caused the collapse.

I was asked if I had family who could help me buy my medical supplies. I told them that would be Sanja.

I met Sanja in 2018, and she has become like a sister. We've supported each other through the ups and downs of expat life. She arrived shortly after the surgeon had explained in detail what she was about to do.

I felt scared and focused on my friend as the surgeon told me to hold my right arm above my head and stay still. Sanja asked the questions I was too in shock to ask for myself. I'd have been lost without her.

Medical care in South America

I grew up with access to Canadian healthcare. How would my hospital stay here compare? Would I be able to continue to live in Ecuador at altitude? Were my running and mountain adventures over?

I called my friend Jonathan in the morning, and he came right away. An Ecuadorian-American, he briefed me on what to expect and told our friends where I was.

My hospital stay lasted a week. As my anxiety subsided, I noticed differences in how things are done here. Many of them I preferred.

Visiting hours were relaxed, so I had friends popping by every day. I could see the mountains from my room. The pharmacy next door played Latin music. When I closed my eyes and listened, I felt the sun on my face and briefly forgot where I was. It was less formal too, which I preferred.

My insurance plan didn't cover this — a personal oversight I made because I figured I was healthy and possibly even invincible. Lucky for me, the care was high-quality and ended up costing a little over $3,000. I never had to wait for a room, procedure, specialist appointment, or check-up.

According to KFF, a nonprofit health policy group in the US, the average cost per day for an inpatient in a US hospital in 2022 was over $3,000.

I had no family but had built a community

I also saw the value of my personal connections and the caring Ecuadorian culture. People I didn't know well would call to check in, and friends of friends would send well wishes.

My doctor called my mom in Canada. A new friend drove me to an X-ray appointment. My friends brought tea, meals, and books. My Pilates instructor helped me regain strength.

As a foreigner in Ecuador, I sometimes feel out of place and lonely. In the hospital, though, I realized what a strong community I had built over the years.

My "chosen family" comes from the US, Ecuador, Australia, South Africa, England, and Venezuela. They are all the results of personal relationships I have built during the good times: parties, road trips, and adventures. Now, I understand that community is an investment in health, too.

From the outside, living abroad can look pretty convincing. My highlight reel is packed with nature, street art, slow mornings, and vibrant celebrations. But this was one of my lowest moments in Ecuador. And guess what? That gave me a different kind of reassurance.

Three months later, my body has healed, and I'm cleared to go up into the mountains again. Recently, I spent a bright sunny day hiking past sparkling lagoons, yellow flowers, and tangled forests. I'm grateful to know I'll have many more like this.

Got a personal essay about health emergencies while traveling that you want to shareGet in touch with the editor: [email protected].

• We left our stressful careers in the music industry in Nashville to have an "adult gap year."
• We spent a year traveling through Europe to find the joy and balance our lives had been missing.
• We fell in love with València, Spain, on our trip and have since moved there.

My wife and I spent over a decade working in Nashville's music industry before we decided to step off of the corporate ladder.

We met while working at different record labels, and there were many things we enjoyed about our jobs — traveling to new places, attending industry events, and seeing artists we believed in grow from small showcases to arenas.

But as the years went by, the constant grind began to take its toll.

We were traveling every weekend, juggling endless projects, and attending frequent late-night events, all while trying to maintain our personal lives. Eventually, the burnout became impossible to ignore.

It wasn't just the demanding schedule that had us rethinking our future. The political climate in the US, particularly in Tennessee, added to our sense of unease. Nashville, which had once felt like home, no longer seemed like the right place for us.

We knew we needed a change — something that would allow us to reset and rediscover what we really wanted out of life.

That's when our idea to do an "adult gap year" started to take shape.

We didn't take the decision to leave our jobs for travel lightly

For our "adult gap year," we decided to step away from our jobs and lives to travel for 12 months. We knew it was risky to take mid-career breaks and quit stable jobs, but we were fortunate enough to have some financial flexibility.

Both of us had bought homes in Nashville long before the real-estate boom, so they were worth more than we'd paid.

Selling my wife's house gave us the resources we needed to fund a year of travel and a down payment on a home wherever we decided to land.

Leaving behind the lives we'd built in Nashville was scary, but it felt right for us. So, we packed up our belongings, grabbed our one-eyed rescue dog, and set off on our adventure.

With no clear destination in mind, we spent the next year exploring Europe

Our travels initially focused on Portugal and Spain.

We stayed in bustling town centers and quiet beach towns, sampling local cuisines, wandering through centuries-old cathedrals, and getting lost in the winding streets of ancient cities.

Each place had its own unique charm, but one stood out above the rest: València, Spain. When we arrived, it didn't take long for us to fall in love.

València's sunny beaches, vibrant city center, leisurely paella lunches, and sense of calm made it feel like the place we'd been searching for — one we were meant to call home.

We continued our travels across France, Montenegro, Greece, Albania, Ireland, and England — but València kept calling to us.

We're now living in Spain and happily getting settled

By the end of our year abroad, we decided to settle in València and apply for residency so we could officially make Spain our home.

As we settle into our new life, we're also transitioning back to work, this time remotely and with a fresh outlook.

For many people, the idea of walking away from a career and moving abroad seems impossible, something only to consider in retirement. But we didn't want to wait and maybe regret it later.

Our gap year wasn't just about escaping burnout — it was about rediscovering what truly mattered to us. We wanted to experience joy, have work-life balance, and live life on our own terms.

Our risk paid off, and we found the balance and fulfillment our lives had been missing all along.

• A few years ago, my family started celebrating Thanksgiving a week before the actual holiday.
• The new tradition has taken a lot of stress out of the holiday, both for the host and the guests.
• I also love that my boyfriend and I never have to worry about splitting the holiday.

In 2021, my mom had a proposition to move the day we celebrate Thanksgiving.

At first, the idea sounded a little wild — how could we just move a holiday? But once we thought about it, the number of people at the dinner table had dwindled over the years.

Once we polled the family and found out that more people would be able to come on a different date, we officially moved the celebration to the Saturday before.

Here's why celebrating "Thanksgiving Saturday" was one of the best choices we've made.

Celebrating a week early eliminates some of the holiday stress

We've hosted Thanksgiving at my mom's house for as long as I can remember, spending most of the week leading up to the holiday prepping — and most of the following days resting.

Because my mom worked in retail her whole life, she always had to work on Black Friday and rarely got to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner without thinking about work.

By celebrating early on a Saturday, however, she was able to rest and enjoy the day.

But it's not just my mom who's reaping the benefits of changing the date. Some family members travel from out of state and find travel more manageable and relaxing the week before the actual holiday. They find they can spend more time focusing on family and less time worrying about long airport lines.

For family members who drive long distances to celebrate with us, they appreciate not having to sit in the same Thanksgiving traffic as everyone else.

It's nice knowing that my boyfriend and I don't have to split Thanksgiving

Moving the day we celebrate has also helped alleviate the pressure of splitting time between families.

For example, my boyfriend celebrates the week before with us, and we spend Thanksgiving day with his family.

This has relieved the stress of deciding what holidays we want to spend with whom, mainly because I have a 92-year-old grandmother and don't want to miss any Thanksgiving celebrations with her.

Now, I don't have to miss out on Thanksgiving with anyone or choose which family to celebrate with.

We don't plan on ending this tradition anytime soon

The most important aspect of our celebration is spending time together, enjoying a meal, and sharing our reasons for being thankful.

By having Thanksgiving early, we're able to celebrate the holiday and spend quality time with as many family members and friends as possible.

Now that we've been doing this for years, I can't imagine my family will stop anytime soon.