• The back row of an airplane has a bad reputation, but I actually prefer it on long-haul flights.
• Some long-haul planes don't have bathrooms in the back, so it's the quietest spot.
• Plus, it's close to the galley for stretching, and it's my best chance at sitting by an empty seat.

Picking a seat for a long-haul flight is daunting.

It's a tiny space I'll call home for eight-plus hours, and every seat has its pros and cons.

Do I want a window seat where I can rest my head against the plane's wall? Maybe, but then I'll have to bother strangers when I need to use the restroom.

Do I splurge for a higher cabin class? Probably not. While business class is a luxury, I'd rather spend money on the trip — not on the flight. 

The one decision I don't struggle with is picking the row I want to be in. For that, I head all the way to the back of the plane.

I've discovered the last rows are the quietest spots

On shorter flights, the bathroom is one of the biggest gripes about the back row of a plane. Constant flushing, concerning noises, and unwelcome smells often accompany the last row of a domestic flight.

For flights with a bathroom in the back, that's the last place I want to be. But on recent long-haul carriers, the bathrooms haven't been in the back of the plane.

For example, on a flight from Denver to Tokyo, I boarded a Boeing 787-9 Dreamliner with three bathrooms for economy-class passengers, all located at the front of economy.

This means every passenger walks to the front of the cabin instead of the back to use the bathroom.

Since I was sitting toward the back half of the cabin, only a few passengers disrupted me by walking through the aisle for the 12-hour flight.

I realized it would've been even quieter if I had been farther back since the only people heading to the back of the aircraft were flight attendants and passengers stretching their legs. 

There are other perks of the back row, including more storage

Through experience, I've learned that my best chance of getting accessible overhead storage is if I'm in the back of a plane because I get to pass every potential opening for my carry-on bag.

On the flip side, I've been on a few flights where all the overhead storage was filled near my seat. This meant my bag had to go behind me, and when the plane landed, I had to wait for other passengers to disembark before grabbing my bag.

I didn't even experience the major perk of sitting in the front — quick disembarkation.

It's a minor inconvenience, but I'd rather chill in the back of the plane and wait for everyone to deplane without getting frustrated about when I can access my bag. 

Empty middle seats in the back are a win in my mind

Another perk of the back of the plane is galley access. For long-haul flights, I stretch my legs every few hours. It helps my body adjust to cramped quarters and keeps me from feeling claustrophobic.

Typically, I do light stretches in the plane's galley (as long as the flight attendants don't mind). Sitting in the back lets me know when the galley is packed and empty, and I can assess the best time to stretch.

If I'm in the front, I might not realize the galley is crowded and head back there anyway. 

Finally, the back of the plane is my best chance of sitting next to empty seats. 

From experience, it seems like airlines typically fill seats from front to back. If there are any open seats, they're usually in the last rows of the plane.

This was the case on my latest flight from Denver to Germany. The front half of the plane was much more crowded than the back half. Luckily, I snagged a row with an empty middle seat and enjoyed a bit of extra legroom for the 10-hour flight.

The same thing happened on both long-haul flights to and from Tanzania. I was one of the lucky passengers to have empty middle seats, and I attribute that to being in the back of both aircraft. That extra space was a major luxury during the longest journeys of my life.

That potential alone is worth sitting in the back for every long-haul flight.

So, while plenty of people are eager to be at the front, you'll almost always find me in the back of a plane.

• I stopped in the Mojave Desert and wandered around a 251-acre abandoned water park.
• The former park's history was a roller coaster of success and failure, changing hands three times.
• Today, the water's dried up. What remains are empty pools and decaying buildings. 

A scattering of palm trees in a sandy desert was my first clue that I was close to Rock-A-Hoola Waterpark.

Once I spotted colorful billboards, I was positive I had arrived.

Just off the service road running parallel to California's Mojave Freeway in Newberry Springs are the remains of an old water park.

The water park's history is reminiscent of a water slide with years of ups, downs, and sharp turns. It originally opened in the 1960s as Dolores Waterpark. Later, it operated under the names Discovery Waterpark and, most famously, Rock-A-Hoola Waterpark. Then, in 2004, it closed for good.

Today, the water has dried up, swimmers have disappeared, and most of what remains are empty cement pools and buildings decaying in the desert sun.

Driving through California's Mojave Desert in the fall of 2023, I didn't spot much beyond billboards, rest stops, and sand. Then, I saw palm trees and colorful buildings.

I had arrived at my destination: an abandoned water park. I drove up and was shocked to find no fences or gates turning away visitors.

I pulled into a sandy lot, drove past signs I imagined once welcomed visitors, and made my way to a parking area.

For the next hour, I explored the 251 acres of ruins.

The place felt like a mirage. I spotted desert landscapes in every direction, with the park providing pops of color amid beige-toned scenery.

At the front of the property was what remains of the water park's entrance.

Here, I could make out the word "waterpark."

Bob Byers, a local businessman, built the property. It was originally a private resort, which he named Lake Dolores Waterpark after his wife.

Source: Business Insider

In 1962, he opened it to the public. It was home to a lazy river, zip line, man-made lakes with water slides, and bumper boats.

"We have an old-fashioned swimming hole," Byers told the Las Vegas Review-Journal in 1989. "You have to have a little country in you to enjoy this."

Source: Las Vegas Review-Journal

In the 1980s, Byers shut it down. The water park couldn't compete with other nearby attractions.

In 1998, the park went through a major renovation. Money was poured into the attraction and transformed into a 1950s-themed oasis called Rock-A-Hoola Waterpark.

While rock-n-roll music once played across the property and 1950s references filled the park, only hints of the old theme remain today.

Rock-A-Hoola didn't last long. In 1999, an employee used a water slide after hours and became a paraplegic. The settlement cost the park $4.4 million, the Review-Journal reported.

The park went bankrupt in 2000. In 2002, it tried its hand at success for a third time, reopening as Discovery Waterpark. By 2004, it had closed for good.

While swimmers no longer go to Rock-A-Hoola, skateboarders, graffiti artists, photographers, and urban explorers do.

I crossed the entrance gates, where I spotted the remains of an old water fountain.

Dotting the perimeter of the space were the skeletons of buildings. One was likely home to tube rentals, another to snacks, and perhaps a third for souvenirs.

Practically every inch of the former water park was covered in graffiti, and rusted cans were scattered on sandy floors.

I pictured the slides that would have curved down the remaining steel frames.

I pictured people swimming in the vast cement ditches that are now better suited to skateboarders.

I spotted the canal where the lazy river once flowed. According to Lost America, it was added during the 1998 renovation and was the largest in the world at the time.

Source: Lost America

Toward the back of the property was a large hill with a handful of slides that would have sent swimmers down to the bottom.

Since the park closed in 2004, rumors of a revival have existed. But plans to bring it back haven't come to fruition. In 2020, a private firm had plans to turn it into a "roadside playground," Business Insider previously reported.

In 2021, the property was listed for sale for $11 million.

Source: Business Insider

The San Bernardino County Board of Commissioners approved plans to transform the property into a new park with a 22-acre lake, water park, and RV park, the Review-Journal said.

It's unclear if the plans to revitalize the water park are still happening. The project's developers did not respond to a request for comment from BI on the project.

As I explored the property in the desert heat, I saw no signs of improvement or progress.

So, instead of envisioning the future, I pictured myself at the park during Rock-A-Hoola's glory days.

I imagined zooming down the Greased Lightning water slide and chilling in the lazy river.

And I was glad I stumbled upon a place I never expected to see in the desert.

• My friend and I boarded a 10-hour economy flight between Denver and Munich.
• Like most long-haul flights, the journey was filled with highs and lows.
• We celebrated an empty middle seat and dined on OK plane food.

Long-haul economy flights are a roller coaster of highs and lows.

I hate cramped quarters but love plane food. I struggle to fall asleep but crave an excuse to binge movies for hours.

Jet lag is a nightmare, but the stomach drop from taking off and gaining a bird's-eye perspective on a destination are two of my favorite things.

My most recent long-haul flight was filled with similar highs and lows.

For the first time in years, I wasn't traveling solo. I had a friend by my side. Together, we were heading to Italy's Dolomites for a week of skiing — a high.

To get there, we had to embark on a 10-hour Lufthansa flight from Denver to Munich in economy — a low.

Here's how we spent every hour of the journey.

Hour 1: A TSA hiccup

Like any long-haul flight, the journey starts long before stepping on the plane.

Thankfully, dropping off ski bags was a breeze, and my friend and I were eager to zoom through TSA PreCheck and get to the Capital One Lounge.

Like any plan, something is bound to go wrong. I was supposed to have PreCheck, but it wasn't showing up on my boarding pass. After getting turned away at TSA, I waved farewell to my friend Emma and headed to general check-in.

It was no big deal. Then, the TSA agent's face filled with confusion when she scanned my passport and boarding pass. The name on the screen and my passport didn't match.

She sent me back to the Lufthansa desk, where they printed me a new boarding pass. Two lines later, I was in front of a new TSA agent. Again, the incorrect name popped up.

After flagging a supervisor, they let me through with no explanation.

My friend and I have no theories about what happened or how a completely wrong name could be attached to my profile. We ultimately shrugged it off, attributing it to Denver International Airport's many quirks.

The fiasco reminded me that I needed to get to the airport early. Many things are out of your control when you fly — from traffic to technology issues — and creating a buffer for things to go wrong is always key when traveling.

Hour 2: A quick lounge bite

Our planned lengthy break before boarding turned into a quick bite.

My friend wrapped up a last-minute work assignment, I sent off an email, and we toasted to making it through security.

As I sipped my spritz, I sat in disbelief that I had gone years without lounge access. Late last year, I finally caved and bought a travel credit card with lounge perks. It only took one trip to make the card worth the cost, and now, every time I fly out of Denver, I drink and dine for free.

Our time in the lounge flew by, and after about an hour, we both realized our flight had already started boarding.

Once again, stress set in. We scrambled to shove our laptops in our bags, use the bathroom quickly, and pack a few lounge snacks for the flight ahead.

Hour 3: A race to our gate

Emma and I rushed to the gate. I often travel alone, so I was thankful we had each other for reassurance.

"Boarding doesn't end for another 7 minutes," we reminded each other as we hopped on and off moving walkways and darted between passengers to get to gate A45.

We were some of the last passengers to board, and as we looked around, we noticed the back of the plane was practically empty. No one was seated in our middle seat, and the row in front of us was empty. There was plenty of overhead storage for our carry-ons and personal items.

My unpopular opinion that the back of the plane is the best place to sit was proven right again. Later, when I walked to the front of the cabin, I noticed a much more crowded area.

After settling in, Emma and I celebrated the legroom and extra space.

Then, we eyed the pros and cons of our Lufthansa A350-900 aircraft.

The seats felt a little bigger and comfier than my other long-haul flights. We had TV screens and larger tray tables. What we didn't have were outlets, so getting work done was going to be a challenge.

Still, as the plane pulled out of the gate, I felt the giddy excitement of starting an adventure.

Hour 4: Skeptical about a new travel pillow

I've been on the hunt for the best travel pillow. I tested an inflatable one on a recent 33-hour travel day and didn't love it.

I've tried traditional pillows and foot hammocks, and I'm convinced something better has to exist.

I packed a sleep mask that attaches to a plane's headrest for this flight.

Our journey had just started. Dinner hadn't been served, and we were less than an hour into the flight. But something about getting on a plane immediately makes me sleepy, or maybe that's just the lounge cocktails.

Thankfully, the eye mask was easy to set up. Emma and I laughed at how ridiculous I looked strapped in, but I wasn't too worried about that as long as it helped me sleep.

After getting it set up, I debated sleeping. There were still 5,000 miles left in the trip. If I slept now, would I regret it?

Instead, we watched the sunset. The striking sky and watercolor of pastels were gorgeous. It felt like a good omen for our trip, and I snapped images of the plane's wings.

"As if I don't already have enough plane pictures," I thought as I added about a dozen more to my camera roll.

Hour 5: Perplexing plane food

Suddenly, the plane cabin was enveloped in smells. Drink service started about an hour into the flight, and with eight hours left, food arrived.

Only the vegetarian meal was left when the flight attendants reached my seat.

I wasn't sure what I was smelling, and as I uncovered the aluminum lid, I was even more confused. The flight attendants didn't give me a description, and there wasn't a label on the tray. It looked like some sort of quinoa loaf.

I could pinpoint some ingredients. There was zucchini, I'm sure. The loaf was on a bed of rice, and there was a white sauce that I couldn't identify. My meal also included what looked like melted vanilla ice cream, but instead, it was a room-temperature mousse.

The meal was fine, but I was thankful I had dined at the airport lounge beforehand.

A Lufthansa representative told Business Insider that the airline is working on upgrading its food and beverage services.

Hour 6: Attempting to sleep

My desire to sleep had vanished, so I spent the next hour listening to a podcast and deleting old photos from my phone.

I knew I needed to attempt to sleep soon, so I headed to the bathroom for a quick break to stretch my legs.

I found an empty area, did a few calf raises, touched my toes, stretched my hamstrings, and returned to my seat.

By this point, most of the passengers were already sleeping. I strapped into my eye mask and hoped sleep would come easily.

Instead, I was restless. After about 20 minutes, I turned on a TV show.

Hour 7 - 10: Begging sleep to come

There were less than six hours left, so I turned off my TV show, strapped back into the eye mask, and willed myself to sleep.

I dozed off for a bit, but after about an hour, the pressure from the eye mask was too much. I ripped it off, grabbed my jacket, and used that as a pillow instead.

I continued tossing and turning. At hour nine, I mistakenly checked the flight's remaining time. Four hours remained, and sleep wasn't coming. I was antsy and ready to be off the flight.

In the past, flight attendants have shared tips and tricks for successful long-haul flights. I should've packed melatonin and had a healthy snack midair, and ultimately, I regretted not being more prepared to sleep for the journey.

Hour 11: Groggy with a grumbling stomach

I woke up dazed and more tired than I was 10 hours ago.

With less than two hours left, a new smell filled the plane's cabin. This time, I knew exactly what it was: coffee.

It was breakfast time, and I was hungry.

I was handed another cryptic tray, and I crossed my fingers that it would be better than the dinner.

Unfortunately, I thought breakfast was worse than dinner. There wasn't much flavor, and the textures felt off. The scrambled eggs were dry, and the hashbrowns were soft and greasy.

I longed for airport lounge food and regretted not packing more snacks for the flight.

Hour 12: Surviving and thriving

The pilot announced our landing, and my friend and I eagerly opened the plane windows to catch our first glimpses of Europe.

We were tired, hungry, and thrilled to be one step closer to our ski destination.

We landed in a dreary Munich and headed to our next gate, where a plane was waiting to take us to Venice.

Our ski trip was just hours away, and the dreaded long-haul flight was finally behind us.

I've taken plenty of long-haul flights, but each one teaches me something new

It's been a while since I've traveled with a friend on this long of a flight, and I forgot how much a travel partner can ease the stresses of flying.

Instead of panicking when my name was incorrect or when we were late for boarding, we reassured each other, soaked in sunsets, and celebrated the small wins of what is often the miserable experience of long-haul flying.

The flight also reminded me that long-haul flights require preparation. Next time, I'll pack the sleeping essentials, get to the airport early, and, of course, book my back-of-the-plane seat days in advance.

• I traveled to Cortina d'Ampezzo, an Italian ski town that attracts wealthy vacationers.
• The town was dotted with high-end fashion and Michelin-rated restaurants.
• Beyond luxury, the town is home to some of Italy's best skiing.

Tucked away in Italy's Dolomites is a town with a massive reputation.

It's where George Clooney and Naomi Campbell have vacationed. It's where a James Bond movie was filmed. It's a town of brick-paved streets where fur coats, designer handbags, purebred dogs, and athletes can be spotted at every turn.

It's Cortina d'Ampezzo.

Over the past centuries, Cortina d'Ampezzo has become recognized as one of Europe's most expensive and exclusive ski towns. What started as a town enticing the British elite has become a destination for today's rich and famous.

While I'm far from famous, I spent a weekend vacationing and skiing in Cortina d'Ampezzo. There was plenty of luxury, but I also discovered a charming town filled with friendly locals and an undeniable emphasis on the outdoors.

Cortina d'Ampezzo's elite-filled history

Cortina d'Ampezzo has a lengthy history of appealing to the elite. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, wealthy travelers from England, Germany, and Russia traveled by train to vacation there. Following WWI, it became a popular spot for rich Italians.

In the 1920s, Ernest Hemingway arrived to write one of his first published works, and the town gained even more international notoriety after hosting the 1956 Winter Olympics, the first televised to an international audience. Following the Olympics, the region boomed.

Actors like Sophia Loren, Brigitte Bardot, and Audrey Hepburn vacationed in Cortina d'Ampezzo, and two presidential suites at the Cristallo Palace Hotel were named after its well-known visitors, Frank Sinatra and Peter Sellers. The town's fame has earned it the nickname "salotto dei famosi," or "the celebrities' living room."

Cortina d'Ampezzo also became a popular movie location. Scenes from the 1963 film "The Pink Panther" and the 1981 James Bond movie "For Your Eyes Only" were shot in the region, and most recently, Cortina d'Ampezzo was the backdrop for "House of Gucci," the film staring Lady Gaga and Adam Driver.

It takes a few moments in Cortina d'Ampezzo to recognize why the destination appeals to both vacationers and filmmakers. Practically every place in town has views of jagged mountains, charming chalets, and ornate churches.

Giulia Dal Pont remembers growing up in Cortina d'Ampezzo in the 1990s and not fully understanding the town's reputation.

"All the kids learned to ski, and every year, the skiing World Cup takes place," she told me. "That's normal."

"They come to film movies. Of course, they come," she said. "Growing up, I ran into celebrities downtown. This was my normality."

But to most, Cortina d'Ampezzo's wealthy reputation stands out. The town has around 6,000 residents and the population balloons to 50,000 at peak season.

Five-star hotels, Michelin restaurants, and designer ski clothes

As I planned my trip, I eyed luxury resorts. Five-star hotels like Rosapetra Spa Resort or the Grand Hotel Savoia Cortina d'Ampezzo usher in prices of $1,000-plus a night during peak season. Other luxury hotels are undergoing renovations ahead of the 2026 Olympics.

Even lower-rated hotels had elements of luxury in Cortina d'Ampezzo.

I spent two nights at Camina Spa Resort, where my $400-a-night room in the four-star hotel had amenities like ski shuttles and breakfast, as well as a spa with saunas, a steam room, and unfamiliar features like an "emotional shower," which I later discovered was an aromatherapy misting.

Walking through Cortina d'Ampezzo's expansive downtown area was exactly as I imagined.

Women in fur coats and hats walked along cobblestone streets. Tourists wearing $2,000 Goldbergh ski suits popped in and out of high-end stores like Dior and Louis Vuitton. There wasn't a souvenir shop in sight; instead, a cozy bookstore was one of the few places I spotted postcards.

In the heart of downtown, an Audi sits in a glass box. Why? I'm still not sure.

The dining is also on par with high-end fashion and expensive hotels. Cortina d'Ampezzo is home to two Michelin-starred restaurants, SanBrite and Tivoli. Six other Michelin-recognized restaurants are in town. Regardless of a restaurant's status, it seemed hard to find a bad meal.

Dal Pont said tourists arrive in Cortina d'Ampezzo searching for excellence. "What has been there and has not changed are people's expectations of Cortina," Dal Pont said. "Everything is expected to be nice and borderline perfect."

That's what I experienced. Meals — whether on the mountain or in town — were delicious. Stores were pristine, with hangers and clothes positioned perfectly on racks. Art galleries filled storefronts showcasing expensive work.

All of this means that vacationing in Cortina d'Ampezzo can be pricy. It's Italy's most expensive ski town, and my weekend cost just over $2,700.

Skiing is the town's main draw

Not everyone arrives in Cortina d'Ampezzo to see and be seen. The town's ski areas are part of the Dolomiti Superski, the largest ski network in the world, with 775 miles of slopes across 12 resorts.

Cortina d'Ampezzo's mountains are world famous. Ski events are hosted each year. For instance, the World Cup Alpine Skiing took place during my visit, and for a few days, the town was flocked with professional athletes competing in downhill speed racing.

For amateur skiers and snowboarders, the slopes were still appealing, mainly thanks to the striking views of the nearby mountains. I'm lucky to live in one of the world's best ski destinations, but the Dolomites had landscapes that couldn't compete with Colorado's Rockies.

If you are in Cortina d'Ampezzo for luxury, the nods continue on the mountain. Ski lifts are plastered with red Prada advertisements, and a Gucci-themed après spot drew crowds.

Regardless of your status, Cortina d'Ampezzo has its appeals

Vacationing in Cortina d'Ampezzo felt similar to vacationing in Colorado's wealthy Aspen ski town. Prices often shocked me, and I felt a bit out of place in my thrifted ski pants.

Even if I wasn't buying a new pair of Golden Goose sneakers or dining at Michelin-starred restaurants, Cortina d'Ampezzo had its charm. The views were breathtaking, and the locals I met were warm and inviting.

There were times during my trip that I completely forgot I was in a ritzy ski town. Instead, I was enjoying snowy slopes with fellow skiers and snowboarders and sipping spritzes with a crowd of strangers.

That's what Dal Pont said she hopes others take away from Cortina d'Ampezzo.

"I would like people to come away saying the mountains were amazing and the center of the town had a soul," she said. "A special something."

• Luxury travelers can find Singita's Milele villa at the edge of Tanzania's Serengeti National Park.
• The 10-person villa is Singita's newest property, costing $36,400 a night during high season.
• I explored the property's five suites, cinema, wine cellar, and infinity pool.

No explanation is needed when Abas Aimas shares that Milele means forever in Swahili.

I had just stepped inside Singita's Milele villa, a 10-person property outside Tanzania's Serengeti National Park. Between the grand suites and an expansive infinity pool overlooking the Serengeti plains, the property's name was clear.

"Guests come, and they want to stay here forever," Aimas, Milele's assistant manager, told me.

The property — complete with a cinema, gym, and wine cellar — is one of the region's most luxurious and expensive safari properties, with a $36,400-a-night price tag.

Milele is part of the Singita network of properties across East Africa.

The villa, which opened in May 2024, sits at the top of Sasakwa Hill in the Grumeti Reserve, a private concession on the northwestern border of the Serengeti National Park.

Singita has exclusive use of the 350,000-acre area, where it operates three lodges and four private villas.

Its newest and most expensive is Milele. In peak season, a night at Milele costs $36,400. Low-season rates are $27,300 a night.

Aimas spent years managing properties around the world, but he returned to Tanzania to help open Milele.

"These are the things I dreamed about when I decided to come back to my country," he said.

Aimas said the property's first year has been a success so far. The typical guest stay is around five days, and travelers' responses have been overwhelmingly positive.

"When they see it, they can't believe it," he said.

The lodge sits at the top of a hill overlooking grass plains, but that's impossible to know from its entrance.

Peterlis Kibwana, my safari guide while staying at Singita's Sabora Tented Camp, drove me to Milele. During the 40-minute drive, we spotted herds of zebras, pairs of giraffes, and wildlife at almost every turn.

Soon, a massive cliff came into view, and Kibwana pointed to its top.

"That's Milele," he said.

As I squinted at the property, it was clear the views from the villa were bound to be remarkable. Even miles away, I could tell that Milele was impressive in size.

As Kibwana drove up the hill to the villa's entrance, I was surprised — Milele no longer seemed massive. Shrubbery blocked most of the structures. Instead, a warm wooden pathway led into Milele.

The entryway leads to Milele's main draw — views of the Serengeti.

A large infinity pool sits at the edge of Milele's property, overlooking vast plains. I imagined spending all day migrating between the pool and loungers as I watched animals below migrate to new areas.

While I enjoyed the view for just a few minutes, seeing the Grumeti Reserve from up high was an entirely new experience. I had spent the past two days viewing elephants and lions up close.

Seeing massive herds, spotting birds in midair, and playing "I Spy" with different species gave me a new perspective on the ecosystem.

The villa's design blends communal spaces with privacy.

Milele can accommodate 10 guests at a time, although Aimas said that just a couple or two often stay at the villa.

When guests are here, Aimas estimates there are about 20 staff members on-site — from butlers and chefs to safari guides and housekeeping.

Throughout the villa, I discovered moments of privacy and community. For example, two large dining tables and a communal firepit encourage bonding, while suites are secluded from the villa's main area.

At the center is the villa's main living area.

Much of Milele's focus is on connecting guests with the outdoors. While I visited on a gloomy afternoon, Aimas shared that most rooms, including the main lounge, have large sliding doors that open.

The main lounge has couches, a fireplace, a fully stocked bar, and a dining table. Step outside, and there's another dining table and more couches.

Behind the living room is a long hallway. Here, a hidden door leads to the villa's cinema.

From the lounge area, guests can access a 10-person cinema — if they can spot it.

The door to the cinema seamlessly blends in with the hallway, and I would've walked right by it if Aimas hadn't pointed out the door.

Comfortable recliners and couches fill the dark-lit room, and a screen stretches across one wall.

The hallway continues, leading to a kitchen and a fully stocked pantry.

Aimas explained that Milele has an on-site chef to cook guests fine dining meals each night and dishes on request.

Beyond that, a stocked pantry is accessible all day, and the property also has a wine cellar, where wine tastings are hosted.

Next door is a full gym.

Milele's private gym is a room with floor-to-ceiling glass panes. Here, guests have all-day access to ellipticals, bikes, and treadmills.

During their stay, they can also book vinyasa and yin yoga classes on the property's outside deck.

The hallway continues to three of the villa's five rooms.

There's a main bedroom suite, a junior suite, a two-bedroom family suite, and a fourth suite.

Each one is individually designed and named after a Serengeti animal. Dazzle, for example, is the name of a group of zebras. Inside this suite, gray armchairs sit at the end of the bed, and a checkerboard of similar colors covers one wall.

Meanwhile, the crash suite, named after rhinos, is filled with cream and light colors.

The suites feature amenities like hidden televisions and outdoor showers.

While each room slightly varies in style and amenities, each suite has private bathrooms, automatic curtains, and sliding doors leading to outdoor decks.

Others have dressing rooms, offices, and private spa pools.

The largest, of course, is the main suite, which is secluded on the other side of the property.

Back toward the entrance of Milele, guests can access the main suite. Here, there are two interior bathrooms and two outside showers. There's also a dressing room and an office.

Outside is a private terrace and one of the two private spa pools.

Again, large glass sliding doors lead to a private outdoor area. Here, guests can rotate between a private spa pool, loungers, couches, and tables.

Back outside, a lush pathway leads to the final suite and more of the villa's outdoor space.

The dazzle suite is also secluded from the main area, and along the pathway, guests pass some of the villa's outdoor areas.

Along the path is a boma and outdoor sala.

A boma is a traditional outdoor area for a firepit. At Milele, a circular stone bench surrounds a firepit, so guests can curl up around a fire each evening and stargaze. Nearby is a sala, a covered area where guests can lounge and dine outside.

Kibwana said guests often arrive via private helicopter.

While Milele is accessible by road or bush plane, Kibwana and I stopped at Singita's helicopter pad, where some of the wealthiest guests arrive.

Milele is more than just a villa, included in the rate are daily game drives.

While it's tempting to never leave the property, staying at Milele offers more than access to the villa.

Private game drives around the Grumeti are included in the rate, and guests can book activities like hot air balloon rides, community visits, walking safaris, and yoga classes for additional costs.

It was easy to see how you'd never want to leave Milele.

My tour lasted under an hour, and returning to my luxury lodge felt like an impossible task.

From having access to so much pristine land to enjoying meals cooked by a private chef, touring Milele took luxury to levels I'd never seen.

• I spent the final night of a ski trip in Italy at a hotel near Venice's Marco Polo Airport.
• The hotel was simple, but its convenience to the city and the airport was a surprising perk.
• Instead of spending my last night sad that the trip was over, I spent it wandering around Venice's canals.

Like practically everyone, I dread the end of a trip.

It's heartbreaking to realize that your time in a new destination is ending and that normal life will resume once you've returned.

Beyond that, the task of getting back home is often a drag. Long-haul flights in economy, early mornings and late nights, jet lag, packing and unpacking are all the tasks I despise at the end of a trip.

That was exactly the case for my last trip. After a week of skiing in Italy's Dolomites mountain range, my friend and I had a 10-hour flight back home to Denver.

However, our decision to spend the night at an airport hotel was a surprisingly positive end to our time in Italy.

I spent my last night in Italy at a hotel near the Venice airport

The day before leaving Italy, my friend and I dined on a slow breakfast, packed our suitcases and ski bags, and crammed it all into a tiny rental car. Then, we left Brixen, Italy, for Annia Park Hotel — our lodge for the night.

The drive was four hours long, and I booked the hotel room because I didn't want to add a long drive to what was about to be an already long travel day.

Instead, I wanted the trip to end with convenience. I didn't want to worry about traffic or missed flights. I wanted a good night's sleep before leaving Italy. And ultimately, I wanted a relaxing evening to reflect on the trip.

Annia Park was surprisingly that.

Our room cost $180 for the night. It was basic with an all-neutral interior, simple amenities, a paid continental breakfast, and 5 euro airport transfers.

While it wasn't a lavish stay, the property had its perks. It was just a five-minute drive to Venice's Marco Polo Airport, and even better, it would take just 15 minutes to get to historic Venice.

The highlight of the hotel was its proximity to Venice

When I booked my flights, it originally felt like a missed opportunity to fly into Venice without ever stepping into the city itself.

I would miss the narrow canals, colorful homes, and marble bridges.

As my friend and I eyed our itinerary, we realized we didn't have to miss the city. If we left Brixen a few hours earlier than initially planned, we'd make it to the airport hotel with enough time for dinner in Venice.

My friend and I checked into the hotel at 5:30 p.m. with stomachs grumbling. The hotel receptionist outlined the ways we could get into the city. We could get on a bus, he could call us a taxi, or we could take our rental car and drive ourselves.

We picked the latter, did a quick search for parking lots, and headed into the city.

By 6:30 p.m., my friend and I were wandering the canals of Venice instead of dreading the impending end of our trip. We found a cozy restaurant for dinner, frolicked around Piazza San Marco, and got lost in narrow alleyways.

We had both visited the city before, so we didn't mind that our time was limited. Instead, exploring Venice at night was an entirely new experience.

After a long evening, we returned to our car, which cost $20 to park. It was cheaper than taxis and easier than taking the bus. If it had been during the day, we would've splurged on a water taxi from the airport for a true Venetian experience.

While finding a hotel in the city could've been delightful, the convenience of the airport hotel won again. It was nice to head back to Annia Park and know that the following morning, we were a short drive away from the true end of our Italy trip.

• On a typical safari, travelers encounter dozens of people in all types of roles.
• A safari planning expert shared guidelines on who to tip and how much is standard.
• Ultimately, she said, you'll likely leave the experience wishing you could tip more.

During a typical safari vacation, you'll encounter dozens of people.

You might have a safari guide who helps track down the elusive black rhino or a favorite waiter who brings you dinner each evening.

You'll encounter housekeeping, safari trackers, and porters who carry your bag from the airport to the airplane. Then, there are one-off drivers who transfer you from the airport to your lodge.

If you embark on excursions, you'll encounter even more people — from local Maasai dancers and school teachers to dive masters and coffee roasters.

Getting to know these people is an incredible part of a safari. However, it can be daunting to know who to tip and exactly how much to tip each individual.

Business Insider spoke to Meg van Niekerk, a Go2Africa safari planning expert, who shared her tipping advice for an African safari.

Who should you tip on a safari vacation?

Most countries in Africa follow similar tipping guidelines. During a typical safari or resort stay, you'll have two groups of people you're tipping.

The first group is the lodge staff. You'll see these people throughout your stay: a butler, housekeeping, your game driver.

For this group, "you can tip when you depart, and you can often pay with your credit card," van Niekerk said. Although, you're also welcome to tip in cash.

The second set is one-off interactions. These might include a driver who takes you from the airport to your hotel, a tour guide during a village visit, or rangers during a gorilla trekking excursion. Van Niekerk said that for this group, cash is required, and you should tip them as soon as the interaction is over.

The third set includes people you don't need to tip, such as pilots, camp managers, airport desk staff, and lodge owners.

How much should you tip?

The tipping recommendations vary slightly depending on the lodge you're visiting, but the good news is that many properties outline gratuity suggestions online or in brochures.

For example, some of Tanzania's most expensive lodges recommend tipping $45 per couple a day for your game driver, $35 for your waiter, and $45 for the general staff.

Van Niekerk said the standard per day per person is to tip safari guides $20, a safari tracker $15, general staff $20, and if you have a personal butler, $15.

For short transfers, $5 works, and a few dollars for porters who carry your luggage at airports and hotels. For daylong tour guides within cities, $20 is recommended, and you may want to tip waiters at restaurants outside your lodge 10 to 15%, van Niekerk said.

Each destination also has exceptions and additions to who you tip, which Go2Africa has outlined in its tipping guide. For example, on the island of Zanzibar, you'll likely want to tip your boat driver and snorkeling or diving staff. In Uganda, guides, trackers, rangers, and porters accept tips during gorilla trekking.

"It's going to be different for every client," van Niekerk said. "This, once again, is a guideline."

Van Niekerk said that while some lodges accept credit cards, it's not the case everywhere, so she recommends carrying cash for tipping.

Guests can typically find a communal gratuity box at the lodge for cash tips, which they can share at the end of their stay.

For tips to specific staff members — like your butler or game driver — you're welcome to ask for envelopes and leave the tips with the lodge manager, or you can directly hand the guides your tips.

Van Niekerk said most African countries welcome US dollars for tips. South Africa and Namibia are the exceptions, where the South African rand is preferred, but the tipping amounts tend to be the same.

Van Niekerk added that it's smart to bring small bills. These bills should be post-2006 and have no tears or rips. And it's always helpful to pack a bit more cash than you expect since "ATMs are far and few between," she said.

Why should you tip on a safari?

Beyond the fact that tipping has become customary in Africa, van Niekerk said it's a way to show appreciation.

"It's showing them that you have made my experience," van Niekerk said. "It's like a blessing."

Van Niekerk added that many of the staff you'll interact with on a safari are spending months away from their home and the families they might be supporting. Tipping is a way to recognize them for their efforts to make your vacation memorable.

Ultimately, tipping is customary but not mandatory, so tip at your discretion.

"There will be no hard feelings if you're not tipping everywhere," van Niekerk said.

But van Niekerk stressed that once you arrive and see how dedicated the staff is, you'll likely not question the decision to leave behind gratuity.

"You leave wanting to bless people," she said.

• I spent a weekend snowboarding in Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy's most expensive ski town.
• The trip cost $2,700, including flights.
• Meanwhile, a weekend in the expensive town of Aspen would've cost even more.

Three weeks ago, I arrived in one of the most stunning and expensive places I've ever been snowboarding — Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy's priciest ski destination.

It's far from the only expensive ski town I've explored. Back home, I'm a drive away from another place with a ritzy reputation — Aspen, Colorado.

Together, these two towns are some of the most expensive ski destinations in the world.

Now that I've visited both, I've realized the costs don't compare. Even with a round-trip flight included, I still saved money snowboarding in Cortina d'Ampezzo.

Let's start with the ski basics. Lift tickets in Aspen cost triple the ticket price in the Dolomites.

Italy's lift tickets were far cheaper than most of the ones I've seen in Colorado.

Skiers can access the Dolomites' dozen resorts, including Cortina d'Ampezzo, with a lift ticket that costs 70 euros, or about $73, a day.

In Colorado, lift tickets at popular resorts are often triple that price. At Aspen Snowmass, for example, lift tickets cost $244 a day.

Some independently-owned resorts in Colorado offer lower-priced lift tickets, like Cooper Mountain, where weekday access is just $45 and weekend access is $110. However, if you're looking for a town dotted with Michelin-starred restaurants, celebrity spotting, and luxury resorts in Colorado, you'll also be paying a higher price to get on the mountain.

Snowboarding in Cortina cost me $145 versus the $488 it would cost in Aspen.

Renting gear was also less costly in Italy.

Whether it's a snowboard or a pair of skis, Cortina d'Ampezzo had cheaper rentals than I've seen in Aspen.

In Cortina d'Ampezzo, rentals cost around $50. If booking in advance, options were even cheaper, with stores like Ski System Cortina offering a day rental of skis, poles, boots, and a helmet for $43 or $33 at Rightfeeling Ski Rent and Shop.

Finding rentals that cheap is hard in a place like Aspen. Christy Sports offers rentals in Aspen for $75 a day if you book in advance. In person, the cost is $90 for skis, boots, poles, and a helmet. Aspen Skis charges $60 a day online for a similar package.

Thankfully, I didn't have to pay either of these costs since I own a snowboard, and checking it on my international flights didn't have any added costs. However, if I did need to rent gear, I would've saved $54 by snowboarding in Italy.

Lodging costs vary widely, but Cortina was home to many more affordable options.

If we compare Cortina d'Ampezzo to its North American twin, Aspen, lodging is another category in which the Dolomites were cheaper.

I spent $777 for a two-night stay at Camina Suite and Spa, a four-star hotel in Cortina. Here, I had amenities like a free breakfast, sauna, and free parking.

There were plenty of more luxe hotel options to choose from. I could've spent more than $1,500 a night to stay in Cortina d'Ampezzo's nicest resorts like Hotel de Lën or Rosapetra Spa Resort.

Staying in Aspen's top resorts, like The Little Nell or St. Regis Aspen, would cost more than $2,500.

Meanwhile, Cortina d'Ampezzo is home to many more affordable options. In the heart of Cortina d'Ampezzo, more than 10 hotels offer rates lower than $300 a night. If you want to stay in Aspen proper, there are just two hotels with prices lower than $300 a night.

If I wanted a similar four-star experience in Aspen, I would've had to pay about $1,000 a night. By traveling to Italy, I had a luxury stay for about $1,223 less.

Another category where I saved money in Italy was food.

I was in utter shock when the Italian man behind the bar told me my lunch cost 12 euros. I ordered a sandwich and an Aperol spritz on the mountain and expected a cocktail alone to be more than that total.

In Colorado, I'm used to paying high prices for slopeside food. A burger and fries on the mountain or at the base tend to cost around $40 after tax and tip, and I haven't found a beer cheaper than $8 before tax.

Even beyond simple slopeside eats, high-end cuisine was still more affordable in Cortina compared to Aspen.

I could dine on a six-course Michelin-starred menu at Cortina's SanBrite for $156. In Aspen, a five-course menu at the one-star Bosq costs $195. Factor in tips (or the lack thereof), and SanBrite is a much better deal.

Between free breakfasts, cheap mountainside lunches, and affordable dinners, I spent about $150 on food for two days in Italy. Compared to Aspen, traveling to Italy saved me at least $200 in food costs.

Of course, the biggest Italy expense was getting there in the first place.

While every other aspect of a ski trip in Italy is much more affordable than Colorado, the biggest financial hurdle was getting there.

My round-trip ticket between Denver and Venice cost about $1,200. If I had booked further in advance and been more strategic about when I visited, a flight to Venice could've cost $700.

I also rented a car to get to the mountains, which added another $350 to my transportation costs.

Altogether, traveling all the way to Italy was slightly cheaper than a weekend in Aspen.

The total cost for my weekend skiing in Cortina was about $2,700. Meanwhile, a similar weekend in Aspen would cost about $2,960.

If I had planned my flights better, that cost could be closer to $2,000. Of course, there are ways to make both trips more reasonable — I splurged on meals and compared two of the world's most expensive ski towns.

But if you asked me if I'd rather spend a day skiing across Italy's Dolomites or in Aspen, I'd pick Italy any day.

• The Viceroy in Snowmass, Colorado, is home to multimillion-dollar condos.
• When the owners aren't staying at the property, the Viceroy lists the condos as hotel rooms.
• I spent two nights at the property and imagined what it would be like to live in a hotel 24/7.

Stepping inside the Viceroy in Snowmass, Colorado, feels exactly like what you'd expect from a luxury hotel.

The valet happily takes your car keys, a bellhop grabs your bags, and someone ushers you to a reception desk where friendly faces welcome you to the luxury property.

When you enter your room, Nespresso pods glisten, waiting to be used the next morning, and crisp, white sheets hug a king-size bed.

What you don't see is one of the things that makes Viceroy Snowmass different from any other luxury hotel I've visited. The hotel doesn't own my suite; instead, each room is a privately owned condo.

For these owners, who live at the property on and off throughout the year, life is like living at a hotel.

The Viceroy sits slopeside at Snowmass' base village.

The Viceroy is one of Snowmass' most luxurious properties, tucked in the ski town's base village.

It's comprised of two separate buildings: the Pinnacle and the Cirque.

The Pinnacle, the Viceroy's first building, opened in 2009 with 163 rooms. In 2024, the Cirque opened, adding 42 rooms to the property.

Layouts between the two buildings range from a studio to a four-bedroom suite.

While the Viceroy operates like a hotel, each room and suite is privately owned.

"Every single unit here is owned by an individual person, but in this building, 90% of those people put them back into the Viceroy rental program," Andy Gunion, a managing partner at East West Partners, the company that developed the Cirque, said. "Most people that are staying there as a guest have no idea that they're staying in someone's condo."

Each condo's design and amenities are identical, and owners can opt to list their spaces as hotel rooms managed by the Viceroy, where the profits are split.

When initially listed for sale, many of these condos sold for millions of dollars. The recently opened Cirque sold out in days, with properties ranging between $2.5 million and $11.75 million.

Only about 10 people live at the Viceroy year-round. For them, life is like living in a hotel.

Katie de Besche, Viceroy's director of sales, told me on a recent visit that about 10 people live at the Viceroy year-round, and another 8 to 15 owners stay for longer stretches of time.

"They love it," de Besche said. "There's a couple that comes down and has a meeting and cup of coffee at the end of the bar every morning. They enjoy the social aspect of it."

Both residents and hotel guests have access to the same amenities, although some — like the pool and restaurant — close during shoulder seasons.

While only a few live there full-time, others own condos for various reasons. For some, owning and renting out the unit is a way to make passive income since the revenue from guest stays is split between the owner and the hotel.

Other units, like the penthouses, sit empty as the owners wait to flip it for a profit, de Besche said.

And others own properties for convenience.

"We manage it, we rent it out, and they don't have to do anything," de Besche said. "They come and enjoy it when they want."

De Besche said her parents are a great example. They've owned a condo in the Pinnacle building for 10 years. They keep it in the rental pool and can access the condo whenever they visit Snowmass.

I spent two nights in a one-bedroom suite in the Cirque building.

The cost of rooms for hotel guests can vary. During my stay in early January, the one-bedroom suite cost $2,250 a night. Business Insider received a media rate for the two-night stay.

The Viceroy's entry-level prices start at around $1,100 during the winter, but larger suites can reach $3,500 a night.

My suite in the Cirque building was a two-bedroom residence with a lock-off, meaning the second connecting room was rented separately during my stay.

These two-bedroom residences, when sold, had an average sale price of $2.96 million.

For two nights, I imagined what it would be like to not only vacation in a luxury hotel but also live in one.

I stepped inside my suite and was surprised by the spacious living and kitchen areas.

De Besche said that staying in the Cirque over the Pinnacle would give me a bit more space and a more residential feel.

"This could be in a high-rise in Denver," de Besche said. "You feel like it's more of a home, but with direct access to the amenities."

She was right. Stepping inside my suite felt less like stepping inside a hotel and more like stepping inside an apartment.

There was a kitchen with a gas stove, full-sized fridge, dishwasher, and oven. Inside a closet, I discovered a washer and dryer. In the living room, a long sectional sat facing a gas fireplace.

A king-sized bed filled the bedroom.

Overall, the entire suite felt modern, clean, and crisp with neutral colors.

The bed was comfy, and later, as I fell asleep, I couldn't help wonder and dream about who owned the condo.

There were no signs of the owner — no family pictures on the wall or clothes tucked in the closet. Instead, ski and Colorado-inspired art filled the walls.

A bathroom connecting to the bedroom had a large rainfall shower and spacious vanity.

Like the kitchen, living room, and bedroom, the bathroom was large.

A two-sink vanity stretched along one wall, and a large rainfall shower sat in the corner of the room.

De Besche said the rooms follow identical designs. Elements like artwork and lighting are consistent throughout all condos.

"We don't allow the homeowners to do much in the way of personalization," de Besche said. "So, from a guest experience, you feel like you're staying in a hotel."

She explained that homeowners have storage carts for their belongings when they're not on the property. When they arrive, the hotel staff drops off their items.

Since the two buildings were constructed in different years, their designs vary slightly.

However, many rooms across both buildings connect to neighboring rooms and suites. De Besche said this makes it ideal for families and large groups traveling together.

What really appeals to both residents and hotel guests are the amenities.

From a shuttle service to a gym, the property is filled with luxury amenities, most of which are located in the Pinnacle building.

One of the Viceroy's biggest perks is its slopeside access.

The Viceroy is Snowmass' only ski-in, ski-out luxury resort.

A ski lift was a three-minute walk from my room. De Besche explained that the slopes by the property are where some ski lessons and classes are conducted, making it ideal for families and children learning the winter sport.

Meanwhile, the lift near the resort connects advanced skiers to the rest of the mountain.

Also near the lift is one of the property's two restaurants. While The Nest will be renovated this spring, this winter, it's a casual slopeside restaurant serving items like burgers, Caesar salads, and hummus.

Below the hotel lobby is ski storage, a ticket office, and an entire ski valet with on-site ski and snowboard rentals.

Everything guests need to ski is also on-site. Hotel guests and residents can buy lift tickets, rent gear, shop for ski accessories, and store their personal gear at the property.

There's also a spa and fitness room.

It wouldn't be a luxury hotel without a gym and spa.

The Viceroy's gym has large windows looking out onto the ski slopes, and its spa has a relaxation room, six treatment rooms, a yoga room, and a store.

Back upstairs is a large lobby and bar.

At the Viceroy's entrance, guests can find a reception desk and concierge. Beyond that, there's plenty of seating and a lounge.

Throughout the day, the lounge is a café selling pastries, fruits, and other snacks. At night, it's a bar with cocktails and light bites.

The Viceroy is also home to Toro, a Latin-inspired restaurant.

The restaurant was recently renovated, and each day, it welcomes guests for breakfast and dinner.

Toro's menu is filled with chef Richard Sandoval's Latin-inspired cuisine.

"It's unexpected. You wouldn't think you're sitting in Snowmass in an environment like this," de Besche said.

Later that evening, I cozied up at one of Toro's tables for dinner. I dined on miso chipotle halibut, hamachi sashimi, and an opera cake for dessert.

Each dish balanced familiar flavors with surprising elements. For me, the sashimi stood out with its refreshing yuzu sauce.

After finishing my meal, I thought back to de Besche's comment and agreed. For a few hours, I was transported out of a snowy ski town to a warm seaside destination.

Outside is one large pool and three spa pools.

The property has a large pool, outdoor bar, and three spa pools.

De Besche explained that the spa plunge pools are a little cooler than a traditional hot tub, so guests can spend longer soaking in the water.

The pools were an ideal place to relax after skiing, and I imagined the area coming to life on warmer ski days.

While I spent two nights at the property, it was easy to see the appeal of living in a hotel year-round.

Between large living spaces, luxurious amenities, and slopeside access, it wouldn't be hard to get on board with living in a luxury hotel.

I could skip Doordash and order room service to my condo, and housekeeping would be a call away.

As I packed my bags after a short stay, I left the Viceroy envying the few condo owners who live on-site year-round.

• I tried a viral plane pillow with a Velcro eye mask that straps to your airplane seat.
• The product had its pros. It was compact, had a dual function, and was easy to set up.
• However, the product put too much pressure on my forehead and face, so I won't pack it again.

My hunt for the best neck pillow continues.

On my last long-haul flight, I packed an inflatable pillow I'd seen all over TikTok. I had my complaints: While I did get some sleep, the pillow was far too bulky for small economy seats.

I wanted a smaller option for my next trip, so I purchased the $21 Sarisun travel pillow, yet another TikTok-viral product. It attaches to your seat and holds your head back with a Velcro eye mask.

After trying the travel pillow on a 10-hour flight from Denver to Munich, I likely won't pack it in my carry-on again.

I boarded the 10-hour flight in hopes of deep sleep

Reading the product's description online, I learned that while it's technically not a pillow, the goal is to help you sleep. The eye mask prevents your head from bobbing as you fall asleep upright and helps avoid neck discomfort.

After settling into my economy Lufthansa seat, I unrolled the product, which came in two pieces. The first was a pad with two straps that wrap around the headrest of an airplane seat. The second was an eye mask with Velcro patches at each end.

The straps are adjustable, so it seemed like it would fit most planes — as long as your seat has a bendable headrest. If there's no headrest, like some seats on airlines like Frontier, then you're out of luck.

Thankfully, my Lufthansa seat had the correct headrest, and I easily looped the pad around the top of the seat and secured it tight. Then, I placed the eye mask around my face and fastened the ends to the other piece.

I questioned if the Velcro would be strong enough to hold the weight of my head, but that wasn't an issue. After I was all set up, I closed my eyes and attempted to sleep — emphasis on attempted.

The eye mask blocked out the light from surrounding plane screens, which I loved. Plus, the size could adjust enough to let me wear over-the-ear headphones or my AirPods. Without music, I found that the pillow buffered nearby plane noises.

The downside was that when I leaned my head forward, I felt pressure along the edges of the mask. This dull pressure was fine for about an hour, but after that, it became increasingly uncomfortable.

After trying to use the pillow for a couple of hours, I ripped it off, balled up my jacket, leaned against the plane wall, and attempted to get some actual sleep.

I had a love-hate relationship with the plane pillow

The pillow had its pros. It was compact, and I liked that I could leave it attached to my seat even when I wasn't sleeping. It worked as an eye mask and pillow, creating one less thing to pack in my carry-on.

Still, even with its pros, I'm not sure I'd use the product again.

The pressure from the eye mask was too much for me, and it only allowed one sleeping position. As someone who tosses and turns, attempts to curl up in balls on plane seats, and constantly searches for comfortable positions, I didn't love the fixed position this product kept me in.

However, plenty of people disagree. Across reviews on Amazon, travelers said that if you're a plane sleeper who predominantly sits up straight and struggles with head bobbing throughout a flight, this pillow could be a game changer.

"Best airplane sleep product yet!" one person wrote.

"The mask was cool and comfortable, and I cannot believe I got a solid 4-5 hours of sleep in economy," another person added.

That wasn't the case for me, which means I'll be looking for better neck pillows for future long-haul economy flights.

• I've spent seasons snowboarding in Colorado, and this winter, I went on my first European ski trip.
• While in Italy, I noticed several ways skiing and snowboarding vary between regions.
• From how slopes are labeled and designed to the overall cost, here are the differences I spotted.

As I heaved my snowboard bag out of the trunk, onto my back, and across the Denver airport, I debated if the effort was worth it.

Inside the awkwardly heavy bag was everything I needed for my first European ski trip — my snowboard, boots, base layers, ski pants, and ski jacket.

Bringing the 35-pound bag was a debated effort, especially since I have a dozen or so ski resorts just a drive away from my Denver apartment.

I knew snowboarding in Italy's Dolomites mountain range was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I'd seen the striking, jagged mountains in articles, scrolling through videos, and in images across social media.

Snowboarding down them was going to be an entirely different experience.

Along with the views, I hoped to discover how the sport and culture in towns like Cortina d'Ampezzo and Brixen differ from what I've experienced in the past four ski seasons in Colorado.

Getting to a ski run in Italy might involve a gondola, train, elevator, and escalator.

Once you've made it to a ski resort in Colorado, getting on the mountain is simple. Likely, you'll have one or two options: a ski lift or a six-person gondola up the mountain.

In Italy, I saw several options for scaling the slopes. During my ski day in Cortina d'Ampezzo, for example, I first boarded a 40-person gondola, followed by a lift.

It was by far the largest gondola I've ridden, and throughout my three days snowboarding in Italy, I boarded these large gondolas along with smaller gondolas, ski lifts, and T-bars.

The consequence was that getting to the slopes often took longer since I spent time waiting for other people to board these large spaces. On the flip side, though, I rarely sat in a lift line once on the mountain — a common occurrence on Colorado's crowded slopes.

Italy's ski culture felt stronger — popular restaurants sit on the slopes, and aprés goes into the evening.

I read through lists of recommended restaurants in Cortina d'Ampezzo and listened to locals share their favorite spots in the Dolomites to grab a quick bite.

At each recommendation, I pulled up Google Maps to see how I could drive or walk to the spot. Often, I'd need to strap in my snowboard to get to their recommendations.

Refugios, which are mountain guesthouses, are known for great meals. Meanwhile, in Colorado, ski restaurants typically stick to the staples: chicken tenders, hamburgers, and chili.

While Colorado's mountainside restaurant scene may be changing — resorts like Snowmass and Arapahoe Basin have opened newer, nicer restaurants in the past few years — my friends and I typically stick to packed sandwiches and granola bars, basically quick bites consumed on chair lifts or at picnic tables.

Lunch some afternoons in Italy naturally led into après. The French word is similar to America's concept of happy hour. In Italy, it seemed like a staple of a ski day. In Cortina d'Ampezzo, I could hear music echoing as I snowboarded down one slope.

While the concept of après has made its way to Colorado, I rarely have friends who stick around a DJ set or carve out a few hours during the day for a sit-down meal.

The overall trend seems to be that the focus is on the sport when you're in the mountains in Colorado. In Italy, the focus is an experience that includes dining, drinking, and, of course, skiing or snowboarding.

In Italy, runs are numbered and go off a different grading scale.

I stared at my first ski map in Cortina d'Ampezzo and searched for familiar colors. In Colorado, ski runs are marked green for easy, blue for intermediate, and black for hard.

As I eyed Cortina d'Ampezzo's map, I saw no green lines. Then I remembered that Europe's grading system is different. Easy runs are blue, red runs are medium, and black runs are hard. Plus, there were colors I had never seen. Orange marked the equivalent of double blacks, and green dotted lines highlighted items like hiking trails.

Beyond the differences in colors alone, most European ski maps use numbers instead of names to signify ski runs.

In Colorado, you might head down runs named Bittersweet, Copperopolis, or Kaboom. In Italy, I looked at numbers — like skiing down slopes 85 and 62.

Trees and moguls are a rare sight in Italy.

When it comes to the types of runs in Colorado, everyone seems to have a preference. Some skiers and snowboarders love narrow runs between groupings of trees. Others seek out moguls, a series of bumps down a run. If you're like me, you avoid both and stick to wide-open slopes.

The variety of runs was limited at the two resorts I visited in Italy. Most runs were groomed, and I didn't see a single mogul run.

The same goes for trees. Most of Italy's skiing happens above the treeline since trees stop growing at lower altitudes in the region. That means you'll find very few runs carved through pines. Instead, everything I snowboarded down in Italy was flat and open.

The sport is much more affordable in Italy.

I walked up to my first gondola in Cortina d'Ampezzo, a wealthy ski town in Italy often compared to Colorado's ritzy Aspen, and I was shocked to learn that a lift ticket for the day would cost a mere 70 euros, or about $73.

In Aspen, a lift ticket cost me $250 in January.

Beyond the cost of getting on the mountain, other parts of skiing in Italy were cheaper.

Aperol spritzes cost less than $7, sandwiches less than $10, and gear was less than $50 a day for boots and skis or a snowboard.

The sport is expensive at resorts like Aspen, Snowmass, and Winter Park. Ski gear can cost closer to $100. In 2023, I paid $84 for skis and boots; gear at Snowmass this year was $78.

Ads were everywhere in the mountains of Italy.

When I boarded my first Italian gondola, the fashion brand Guess was plastered across its walls. Minutes later, on my first lift, I noticed each pole had a bright-red Prada advertisement. At the base of my first run, a billboard showcased a Ford Bronco.

I saw ads everywhere I looked in the Dolomites.

It was unexpected, especially coming from Colorado. Sure, there are a few ads on the slopes — lunch advertisements fill lift safety bars, and you might see a luxury-sponsored bar — but it's not nearly as common as it was in Italy.

The views were some of the most stunning mountainscapes I've seen — leaving me itching to book a trip next year.

I find Colorado's mountains breathtaking every time I end up on the slopes, but I'll admit that the views of the Dolomites were some of the most impressive I've seen.

As I snowboarded across the Brixen resort during golden hour, I was in awe of the jagged peaks.

The views alone convinced me that lugging my heavy snowboarding gear was worth every bit of discomfort, and I won't second guess a future European ski trip.

• When it comes to ski towns, Aspen, Colorado, is as expensive as it gets.
• Real-estate prices are sky-high, and visitors shell out hundreds for hotels and ski passes.
• From a $51 million mansion to a ritzy dispensary, I spotted luxury everywhere I looked during my trip.

A three-and-a-half-hour drive from my home in Denver takes me to one of the most expensive towns I've ever visited.

I've lived in New York City and traveled to some of the world's most expensive destinations, such as Paris or Zurich. Meanwhile, a trip to Aspen, Colorado, transformed my definition of luxury.

In Paris and New York, five-star hotels and Michelin-star restaurants coexist alongside $1 pizza and cheap crepe carts. Aspen — for the most part — lacks the latter. Instead, luxury hotels and pricey dinners were practically my only options during my five-day visit.  

Every day during my trip, I observed moments of opulence. Some I expected — yes, the mountain estates were shockingly grand, and the town's five-star hotel had glamorous amenities that attract celebrities like Britney Spears and Beyoncé.

There were also surprising moments of extravagance in everyday life. Even purchasing cannabis was a luxe experience. 

Sprawling mansions were the first indicator of Aspen's wealthy residents.

From the luxury real estate ads in the Aspen airport to views of mansions from the town's gondola, it was clear from the moment I arrived in the ski town that owning property in Aspen takes a lot of wealth.

In fact, Aspen is the most expensive ski town in the country, with an average weeklong vacation costing $5,330 for one traveler in 2023. 

Real estate is so pricey that a neighborhood was nicknamed after its billionaire homeowners.

Blocks away from Aspen's downtown is Red Mountain, a neighborhood known for residents that are so rich it's nicknamed "Billionaire Mountain."

I toured the neighborhood, where famous faces like Walmart heiress Ann Walton and the Bezos family owned property.

Along the drive, I also spotted one of the most expensive homes ever sold in Aspen — a $72.5-million property bought by Patrick Dovigi, a former professional hockey player and the founder and CEO of the waste management company Green for Life Environmental, according to Aspen Daily News.

As I crawled up the switchback mountain roads, the properties became larger, and the entrance gates grew grander. 

The multimillion-dollar homes I toured showcased ultra-luxe amenities.

I embarked on tours of five different mansions in Aspen with luxury real-estate agents Heidi Houston, Doug Leibinger, and Carrie Wells.

The homes ranged from $13 million to $51 million and came with extravagant features I could never imagine owning, like wet bars, indoor pools, and 12-car garages.

At the top of Billionaire Mountain, I toured a home with an indoor pool and a secret bedroom.

At the very top of Billionaire Mountain, I stopped at The Peak House, a 22,000-square-foot estate that sold for $40 million in 2022. 

The Peak House is the highest residence on Red Mountain and real-estate agent Heidi Houston pointed out features that earned the property its price tag. 

Beyond its sprawling size and grand views, the home had a wine cave, an enormous living room, and a 12-car garage. Plus, the estate also had its own set of uncommon additions. For example, there was an indoor pool and a secret bedroom built for the first owner's mistress.  

In the most expensive home I toured, I spotted an oxygen system to help combat altitude sickness.

Aspen Park is a 15,000-square-foot home five minutes away from downtown Aspen. The house sold for $51 million by real-estate agent Carrie Wells.

On a tour of the home, I spotted two elevators, 10 fireplaces, and a Lamborghini-themed garage. I also discovered unusually extravagant amenities throughout the house. For example, an oxygen system that pumps extra oxygen into the room was placed in the primary bedroom. Its goal is to mimic different sea levels and reduce the effects of altitude sickness, as Wells showed me during the tour. 

Beyond real estate, other experiences struck me as luxe. Even purchasing weed was a glamorous experience in Aspen.

Stepping into Dalwhinnie Farms, a dispensary in the heart of downtown Aspen, was the poshest cannabis-buying experience of my life.

Dalwhinnie's CEO, Brandon Barksdale, told me that the store was intentionally designed to cater to Aspen's elite. Within my first moments inside the store, I was greeted by scents of warm leather and views of crystal glassware sparkled from nearby shelves.

It's not just cannabis Dalwhinnie sells. Next to its display of edibles, flowers, and concentrates are Rolex watches, cashmere scarves, and jewelry with a $92,000 price tag. 

The town's hotels were also some of the country's finest five-star experiences.

Aspen was one of the first times I slept in five-star hotels. The experience didn't disappoint.  

At the time, for $848 a night, I stayed in The Little Nell, Aspen's only five-star and five-diamond hotel. It has welcomed celebrities like Britney Spears and Beyoncé. Later, during my trip, I spent $700 for a night at The St. Regis Aspen Resort. The St. Regis also has five stars and is known for rich and famous visitors like Kim Kardashian, Kanye West, and Paris Hilton.

With famous clientele and expensive rates came luxury offerings that made me feel a bit like a celebrity, too. 

The Little Nell had dog food on the room service menu.

I expected to see designer dogs playing fetch at the parks and lapdogs in Louis Vuitton purses, but I hadn't considered how hotels and restaurants would cater to pups.

At The Little Nell, for instance, dog owners could order the"Canine Delights Daily," which was served in dog-friendly bowls and included carrots, brown rice, scrambled eggs, and the owner's choice of protein. 

Workers at The Little Nell also woke up early to preheat hotel guests' ski boots.

Most five-star hotels have a long list of amenities, but one of The Little Nell's biggest appeals is its ski-in/ski-out access and its own designated ski concierge.

The concierge will help guests coordinate ski lift tickets, rent gear, schedule ski school classes, and even preheat their ski boots each morning so they don't have to worry about cold feet. 

Both hotels gave guests access to a fleet of luxury vehicles.

I've stayed at hotels that had free airport shuttles on buses and vans, but I never had access to luxury cars at hotels. 

At The Little Nell, I had access to a free electric Audi Q8 e-tron car rental.

The St. Regis Hotel also had a daily Champagne-sabering ceremony.

To celebrate the transition from day to night, each evening, a saber was brought out to the courtyard for a dramatic Champagne popping. 

While I missed the ceremony on the first night, I happily accepted a glass of Champagne upon check-in. The ceremony felt overly grand for a daily ritual, but I'm also not one to complain about free bubbly. 

In town, water fountains and bike-sharing stations were covered for the cold weather.

Small things in Aspen felt like shocking luxuries that I've never seen in cities like New York or Denver, like covering water fountains and bike stations for inclement weather.

In Aspen during the winter, the bicycle rideshares were closed, the bikes were stored away, and plastic covers were placed on the docking stations.

The same went for the town's water fountains. Each water station in Aspen had a snug cover that protected it from the colder temps.

To me, it seemed like the city of Aspen cared about its infrastructure. In the summer, I imagine the town's resources would be up and functioning — unlike the broken water fountains I remember from my time in New York. 

 

There were no fast-food restaurants in sight.

Good luck finding a McDonald's, Chipotle, or Subway anywhere in or near Aspen. The quaint ski town takes pride in its upscale food scene, which doesn't include fast-food chains.

In fact, the town's one and only McDonald's closed its doors in 2016. 

The most casual restaurants I visited during my stay in Aspen were The White House Tavern, where sandwiches cost between $21 and $26 without fries, and a pizza shop that served $6 slices. 

Leather pants and Louis Vuitton purses were normal flight attire at Aspen's airport.

I arrived at the Aspen-Pitkin County Airport in jeans, a turtleneck, and a pullover sweater. This was much nicer than my typical airport attire of leggings and a T-shirt.

Yet I was by far the most underdressed traveler in the airport. In every corner of the small terminal, I noticed people with designer shopping bags and Louis Vuitton suitcases.

There weren't many name-brand snacks at the airport. My options were limited to $15 trail mix and marshmallow treats.

The airport had one eatery that sold warm food and snacks. Other than Coca-Cola products, Wrigley gum, and Flipz pretzels, there were few name brands. 

I spent about $8 on a pack of gum and a marshmallow treat. Although I'm used to airport food being overpriced, Aspen's airport set the bar even higher in terms of prices. 

At the food counter, travelers could order an $18 chicken cordon bleu sandwich, a $19 portobello rice bowl, or a $19 pork carnitas burrito. 

For snacks, options included a $15 bag of trail mix, caramel-flavored popcorn, and handmade marshmallow treats from The Crispery. 

After five days in Aspen, I tasted how the world's richest people live and vacation.

Between a home oxygen system and room-service dog food, by the time I landed home in Denver, I had cataloged new luxuries I never dreamed of.

Previous trips to New York City and Paris had moments of indulgence, but in Aspen, I embraced the town's extravagance the moment I arrived.

• I spent two nights at WeeCasa Tiny House Resort, a resort with 22 tiny homes.
• I wasn't alone. My two friends joined me in the 212-square-foot house at the Colorado resort.
• The stay was great, but by the end, I was happy to head back to a house with more privacy.

Tiny-home villages are popping up nationwide, and just an hour from my home in Denver is the WeeCasa Tiny House Resort.

The resort consists of 22 tiny homes, and in September 2021, I convinced my two roommates to spend two nights in a 212-square-foot house. 

Before arriving at the property in Lyons, Colorado, we learned that each of the 22 homes is unique and varies in layout, size, and decor.

The smallest home at the resort is 165 square feet. Its largest sleeps six in 418 square feet.

After considering our options, the three of us opted to stay in a tiny home called Juniper, a 212-square-foot house that can sleep four people. At the time, the stay cost $180 a night.

As we packed the car for our trip, I started to question whether all our luggage would fit into our tiny home.

After an hour, we arrived and drove through the WeeCasa resort. Some homes were colorful and whimsical while others had a modern flair.

We made it to Juniper, and after seeing the other options, I debated whether we should have picked a larger one. Would 212 square feet be enough for three people?

It was too late — our booking was confirmed — so we stepped into the tiny house. While the area felt surprisingly spacious, my initial thought was that there wasn't much privacy.

Besides the bathroom door, the tiny house was one open room sectioned into a living area, kitchen area, and lofted bedroom space.

When you first stepped in, you entered the living room, which also functioned as a bedroom for two people.

The couch was a twin-sized daybed. Underneath was a trundle bed for another person.

Behind the living room and along one wall of the tiny house was a countertop with a stove, toaster, sink, and seating for one person.

Along the opposite wall was a staircase with cubbies for storage, a mini fridge, and a microwave.

At the back of the house was a bathroom that fit a standard toilet, sink, and shower.

Above the bathroom and kitchen areas was a lofted bedroom, which had a queen-sized mattress and a small bedside table.

You could nearly touch both walls of the tiny house, but it surprisingly didn't feel cramped. The tall ceilings and ingenious storage hacks helped make Juniper feel much larger than 212 square feet.

Thankfully, all our luggage easily fit into the staircase's storage space.

After a walk on WeeCasa's property, we returned to our tiny house just after sunset. The three of us had work the next day, so we planned how to divide the tiny space before going to bed.

Back in Denver, we're fortunate to have ample workspace in our 1,200-square-foot house. The three of us can rotate between desks, a bar, a dining-room table, a couch, and our bedrooms. In the tiny house, options were limited.

We agreed to split up our workdays rotating between the tiny home's bar, daybed, and an outside picnic table.

It was a success, and after our workday in the tiny house, we weren't sick of one another just yet. So we headed into town for dinner.

Lyons' main street was a five-minute walk away. We loved having access to both nature and a quaint town just a short distance from the tiny-house resort.

We ended the day back at the resort, sitting by the water and making s'mores around a bonfire.

Then we headed back inside for bedtime. Typically, I would scroll on TikTok or turn on a light to read, but without a door to close, I feared I'd keep Ceci and Katie up with my lights.

So I wished the pair goodnight and drifted to sleep, dreaming of solitude and my bed back home.

 

 

Two nights was the ideal amount of time for sharing a tiny house with two friends. By the end of the trip, I was happy to be heading home — and to a door that I could close.

• I ended a trip to Tokyo with an experience on my Japan bucket list — a night in a capsule hotel.
• For $50, I slept at the Nine Hours Narita Airport, a pod hotel inside the airport. 
• The sleep wasn't great, but I thought it was convenient for travelers with early flights. 

In April 2023, I spent 12 days wandering around Tokyo and Kyoto, Japan. As the days passed, I wanted to end my trip with a few experiences that were high on my travel bucket list.

I made sure to spend my morning slurping shio ramen and my afternoon exploring Shinjuku City, a popular Tokyo neighborhood known for its skyscrapers and stores.

For my last night, I wanted to stay in a capsule hotel.

Capsule hotels, often called pod hotels, originated in Japan. I've stayed in a capsule hotel in Australia and think it's best described as a cross between a hotel and a hostel — you don't have much space, but you do get a bit of privacy.

Since the concept originated in Japan, I wanted to end my trip with the quintessential experience. I booked a night at the Nine Hours Capsule Hotel at the Narita International Airport, where I was flying out the next day to go home. Here's what it was like.

Around 9 p.m. on the last night of my trip, I hopped on a train in Shinjuku heading to Narita International Airport and arrived a little over an hour later.

I navigated to the hotel located in terminal two and checked in for the night.

Before getting the keys, I was told the rules: I was not allowed to eat in my pod, but I could drink. Travelers were instructed to be quiet and return their towels to a bin at the end of their stay.

My capsule cost $49 for the night, but travelers can also book a pod for just a few hours to nap and shower.

Once the rules were covered, I was handed a key marked 11. This was the number on both my locker and bed.

From there, I headed to the women's capsule. The hotel was divided by gender, with two rooms of capsules.

Since the pods are small, travelers store their belongings in lockers. They were spacious enough for my items.

I grabbed a pair of slippers, which were in a complimentary bag of toiletries for overnight guests. The bag also contained two towels, a toothbrush, earplugs, and a nightgown.

With my luggage locked away, I headed into the next room, which was the bathroom. Eight toilets lined one wall.

The next two rooms were home to a total of nine showers.

Everything appeared remarkably clean, and as I explored the hotel, I was shocked by its size. The rows of lockers felt as if they went on and on, as did the bathrooms.

In other hostels I'd stayed at, rooms had four, eight, or 12 people, and this felt like a lot. I'm a light sleeper, so strangers snoring and leaving at different times have meant poor nights of sleep in the past.

I didn't consider the number of pods in the hotel, and I didn't spot that information on its website. But the number of lockers hinted that quite a few people would be sharing the same space.

My fears were soon confirmed. Near the showers, I saw a door leading to the capsules that said, "Sleeping Pods 001 - 058."

Any hope of sleep vanished, and I took a deep breath and stepped inside the pod room. The fluorescent lights of the rest of the hotel disappeared, and I felt like I was stepping into the set for a utopian movie.

The pods were illuminated in the darkness. Each capsule had a pull-down curtain for privacy, but with travelers still trickling in, most of the pods were open when I arrived.

I walked the length of the room to bed 11 and found my pod.

Inside my pod was a folded comforter and pillow.

I crawled in and was surprised by how spacious the room felt. I assumed I would feel claustrophobic, but I had plenty of room to stretch out my legs and sit up straight.

The mattress was firm, and the pillow was firmer.

A small panel was stationed at the head of the bed. Here, I could control the pod's lights and access a power outlet. The hotel also provided a button for music, but I didn't have headphones to try it out.

There were also two small storage nooks, though they could not hold much more than my AirPods or the locker key.

Besides that, the room was bare.

At 11:30 p.m., I was ready for bed and pulled down the curtain at the entrance of the pod.

The curtain allowed for privacy, which I was thankful for, but it wasn't thick enough to dampen the sounds of other travelers entering the room.

From what I could see, most pods were occupied. I dozed off to the sounds of a nearby pod mate snoring. Overall, it was surprisingly quiet, considering over 50 other people were sharing the room.

Unfortunately, the silence didn't last long. At 3 a.m., I woke to strangers' alarms, pod curtains being opened, and people getting up to catch flights.

I was in no rush to wake up. My flight wasn't until the afternoon, and I hoped to sleep in. I dozed in and out of sleep for the next five hours as people crawled out from their pods and headed to their airport gates.

Overall, I didn't have a great night of rest, but I usually don't before flights. Instead of deep sleep, I typically stir all night, fearing I'll miss an alarm.

Even if I was in a traditional hotel, I don't think I would've gotten much more sleep. I climbed out of the capsule at 8:30 a.m. and was surprised to find that every other bed in the room was empty.

Even though checkout wasn't until 10 a.m., everyone else had already left, and the cleaning staff was already stripping sheets and preparing for a new set of guests.

It made sense. The pod seemed convenient for people with early flights who didn't want to make an hourslong journey to the airport in the morning.

When it was time for me to leave, I checked out of the hotel and headed to my terminal, which was a short walk and bus ride away.

Getting to my was gate stress-free. I typically spend the day of my flight fearing some sort of mishap would prevent me from getting to the airport on time, but all my anxieties disappeared since I was already at the airport.

While it wasn't the best night of sleep, it was awfully convenient and affordable. If I had an early morning flight in Japan, I'd be sure to book the capsule hotel again.

• CiCi has been a flight attendant at a major airline for over six years.
• She shared the biggest mistakes passengers make when packing a carry-on suitcase.
• From overpacking to forgetting a reusable water bottle, here are the common errors she sees.

After years of working as a flight attendant, CiCi has a newfound love for both the sky and packing suitcases.

CiCi told Business Insider that over six years ago, she left her career in real estate and became a flight attendant. Today, she works for a major airline. For privacy reasons, CiCi asked BI to omit her full name and the airline she works for. BI was able to verify CiCi's employment.

"I have loved it," CiCi, who posts about her job under the username @cici_inthesky, said. "It's a completely different lifestyle than what I have lived for the past 20-some years."

One of the biggest lifestyle changes has been how she packs, and she said she's not the only one who makes mistakes when organizing a suitcase for a flight.

Nearly every day, she witnesses passengers making mistakes with their carry-on bags. Here are the common — and avoidable — mistakes CiCi sees.

CiCi said the biggest mistake she's seen is when travelers pack their bags so full that they can't lift them into overhead bins.

CiCi said she constantly sees passengers who can't pick up their carry-on bags and require help from other passengers or a flight attendant. When it comes to her role as a flight attendant, CiCi stressed that lifting suitcases is not part of her job.

She doesn't want to risk hurting herself by lifting someone else's bag, and airlines often have policies preventing flight attendants from lifting passengers' suitcases, meaning that if a flight attendant gets injured while helping with suitcases, they may not receive worker's compensation.

CiCi said passengers should be confident and comfortable lifting their luggage.

Plus, some airlines, like Frontier Airlines and Hawaiian Airlines, have rules about how much your suitcase can weigh. If your bag is overstuffed and weighs too much, you might have to check it at the gate. This can add unwanted time to your travel.

CiCi said she commonly sees passengers bring more than two bags on the plane.

CiCi said she passengers will often walk up to their gate with a roller suitcase, a backpack, and a purse — that's one too many carry-on bags, according to airline rules.

This can result in gate agents asking passengers to consolidate their belongings into two bags, which adds time to the boarding process. Plus, this can cost a traveler money if they can't fit everything into two bags and need to pay for an extra carry-on.

Passengers whose essentials aren't easily accessible can cause boarding delays.

CiCi said passengers who need to access their carry-on suitcases can sometimes cause delays in boarding. She recommends packing everything they need for a flight in their personal item.

"People put things that they need on the plane — like their book and their earbuds or whatever they're going to need — inside their suitcase," she said. "It's not easy to access."

Passengers who must get in their suitcases and sift through their belongings during boarding can block other passengers from their seats and cause delays.

Waiting until they're in midair to get items from their suitcase is risky, too — turbulence could've shifted the bags in the overhead bin, which might cause them to fall and injure someone.

CiCi said her advice is to ensure all your flight essentials are in your personal item, which will be within reach during the flight.

Many passengers don't pack liquids correctly.

The changing altitudes an airplane experiences cause gases to expand during a flight, which can, in turn, cause toiletries or water bottles to leak in your carry-on.

CiCi said she sees this frequently, but she has a few tips.

First, squeeze as much air out of the bottle as possible. She said this would help prevent expansion.

Perhaps most importantly, she said, choose travel-sized containers wisely. CiCi said that she's tried dozens of travel-sized containers designed to prevent leaks and that the ones she's had the most success with have screw-on caps instead of snap tops since these create a tighter seal.

Passengers make the mistake of not packing a reusable water bottle.

CiCi said it's important to stay hydrated on a flight.

The Aerospace Medical Association recommends that travelers drink 8 ounces of water each hour on a plane.

While you can't bring more than 3 ounces of liquids on the plane, you can bring a frozen water bottle or an empty bottle you can refill once you're inside the airport terminal. 

This will help travelers save money and stay hydrated.

She said some travelers forget to pack their own snacks.

CiCi said turbulence during the summer can get intense since high heat causes more convective turbulence in the sky. When there's a lot of turbulence, flight attendants are sometimes required to remain seated.

If flight attendants can't get up, passengers don't get snacks or beverages. Some airlines, like Frontier Airlines and Allegiant Air, have ditched the complimentary snack service and offer drinks and snacks for sale.

CiCi suggests passengers bring their own snacks. She said that in addition to fruits like apples and oranges, she always has a few bags of nuts in her luggage.

Finally, CiCi said she sometimes sees passengers packing heavy items instead of wearing them on the plane.

CiCi said that if you're flying with just a carry-on, wear your heavy items on the plane instead of packing them.

She said she's sometimes shocked to speak to passengers who are traveling far with just a carry-on and wearing light airplane attire.

That's not what CiCi does. She said that on a recent flight to Italy, she wore her bulky rain boots, a sweater, and a jacket — even though she was flying out of hot, humid Florida. She added that this saved her a significant amount of space in her carry-on and allowed her to pack more outfits for her trip.

• A 33-hour journey to Tanzania was the longest and farthest I've traveled.
• While the long travel day was worth it, I did make some mistakes that made the trip harder.
• I forgot to pack my foot hammock and a change of clothes for the journey.

After embarking on some of the longest flights in the world, sitting in a plane cabin for hours on end is beginning to feel normal.

I've spent 13 hours traveling between Los Angeles and Auckland, New Zealand. I've also made my way to Tokyo via a 12-hour flight.

However, getting to Tanzania from Denver was an entirely new feat. It took a whopping four flights and 33 hours.

I arrived at the airport two hours early and kicked off the trip on a three-and-a-half-hour flight to Washington, DC. After a five-and-a-half-hour layover, I embarked on a 13-hour flight to Ethiopia. Next was another two-and-a-half-hour layover followed by a three-hour flight to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

For the last stretch, I had one more two-and-a-half-hour layover and an hourlong flight to Tanzania's island of Zanzibar.

Altogether, I spent more than 33 hours on planes and in airports. Unsurprisingly, the journey was filled with mistakes.

I packed a neck pillow but forgot my foot hammock.

I've experimented with a handful of viral airplane products. While some have let me down, others have drastically improved my flying experience.

One winner is a foot hammock that wraps around a seat's tray table. It allows me to have my knees bent, creating a different seated position for a long flight.

I love it, but for this flight to Tanzania, I packed an inflatable travel pillow. I was flying light and felt like having two long-haul comforts was overkill in my limited space.

Unfortunately, I didn't love the blow-up pillow. It felt bulky and uncomfortable, and instead, I longed for my hammock.

Looking back, the hammock wouldn't have taken up much space and would've been worth packing. For future long-haul flights, I might even consider trying a brand-new product.

After landing in Ethiopia, I headed to the airport bathroom to freshen up. Instinctively, I used the tap water to brush my teeth.

Delirious after 22 hours of travel, I landed in Ethiopia feeling gross. I hadn't brushed my teeth like I typically do on long-haul flights, so I immediately headed to the terminal's bathroom to freshen up.

Instincts kicked in, and I used the airport's bathroom water to brush my teeth.

I had spent less than 15 minutes in the country and already made one of the mistakes everyone urges you to avoid — drinking tap water.

The Ethiopia tourism site cautions people against drinking the country's tap water and brushing their teeth with it, as it can cause waterborne diseases.

I spent the rest of my layover monitoring any slight change in my body. Thankfully, I didn't consume much and was fine for the rest of my journey.

I typically don't pack extra clothes, but for this journey, I wish I had.

Some long-haul travelers swear by changing into new clothes during lengthy travel days. I, however, have always considered this a waste. Unless I can shower and get clean, dirtying two sets of clothes typically doesn't make sense to me.

After this 33-hour day, I've changed my mind. Brushing my teeth and washing my face in Ethiopia didn't make me feel much more refreshed. But having a clean set of clothes would've been a game changer — mostly because it would've helped my mindset.

Instead of dreading the remainder of the trip, new clothes would've felt like a fresh start and potentially helped me manage the nine hours of the journey I had left.

I didn't drink nearly enough water and should've packed electrolytes.

This is a common mistake I make on flights. Experts recommend drinking 8 ounces of water for every hour you're in the air since flying is a dehydrating experience.

While it would've been challenging to consume 160 ounces of water, I definitely didn't drink close to that amount, which contributed to my exhaustion and lethargy after landing in Tanzania.

Electrolytes or hydration salts could have also helped, so I'll carry them on future flights.

I slept during the wrong flights.

I started my journey with a red-eye flight, which I initially thought was smart. My game plan was to fall asleep during the first flight and continue sleeping after a five-hour layover and during the longer 13-hour flight.

I successfully slept through most of the first flight, which was only three-and-a-half hours.

As soon as I boarded the 13-hour flight, I realized I made a major error: My body was still on Mountain Standard Time. It was morning, and I was wide awake.

Looking back, I should've forced myself to stay awake for the first flight and focused on sleeping during the longer flight. That way I could've been better adjusted to my destination's time zone and had a few more hours of rest.

I didn't pack enough comforts for when I struggled to fall asleep.

I didn't give up hope after making that major mistake of snoozing on the first flight. So, after finishing meal service on my Ethiopian Airways flight, I attempted to get more rest.

I blew up my travel pillow, snuggled in my seat, and closed my eyes.

Sleep didn't come, and I regretted not packing melatonin or another sleeping aid for the flight.

In general, I relied on technology too much for entertainment.

After boarding my 13-hour flight wide awake, I was ready to binge. I had downloaded the latest season of the "Great British Baking Show," a movie or two, and a handful of "Normal Gossip" podcast episodes.

I was content for four hours. By hour five, my eyes had glazed over, and my ears ached from my headphones. Since I couldn't sleep, I needed anything to keep me occupied.

What I wanted was a physical book or crossword puzzle. I was tired of looking at screens, but without anything physical in my bag, I was stuck flipping through passenger safety instructions and an e-book on my phone.

Next time, I'll pack a crossword puzzle, magazine, and book to keep me occupied.

My TV downloads disappeared during my layover.

Once I landed in Ethiopia, I connected to the airport's WiFi and checked in with friends and family.

Fast-forward to my next three-hour flight — I hopped into the Netflix app to finish my downloaded episodes, but everything had disappeared.

My guess is that the shows I downloaded weren't licensed for Ethiopia, so Netflix removed them from my downloads.

I believe I would have kept my downloads if I had kept my WiFi turned off and my phone on airplane mode.

Either way, it was another reason for me to have packed a physical book to read.

Despite all these mistakes, I landed in Tanzania eager for new experiences.

I was groggy, smelly, and slightly delirious when I finally landed on the island of Zanzibar.

More importantly, I was thrilled to kick off my adventure. From the people to the animals to the food and scenery, my trip to Tanzania was worth every cramped minute on a plane.

• In June 2022, I flew business class on an Air New Zealand flight to Auckland, New Zealand.
• It was my first time in business class, and during the 13-hour flight, I was pampered and amazed.
• The flight's dinner service felt like fine dining, and it was the best sleep I've had on a plane.

In the summer of 2022, I boarded what was — and continues to be — the most glamorous plane ride of my life.

I spent about 13 hours seated in Air New Zealand's business class on a long-haul flight from Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand. Business Insider received a media rate for the round-trip flight.

Before the trip, I had only sat in economy. Spending thousands of dollars for a flight — this business-class ticket, for example, typically costs around $6,000 — never seemed worth it. Meanwhile, the perks were everything I'd dreamed of. 

From meals that felt like fine dining to a turn-down service, I was spoiled and surprised throughout the entire flight. 

The surprises started before I even stepped onto the plane. My ticket came with access to an airport lounge.

Leading up to the 13-hour flight, I learned that my business-class ticket also granted me access to the Star Alliance Lounge at the Los Angeles International Airport.

Another new experience was the airport lounge, which caters to first-class, business-class, and some travel credit-card holders. Before landing at the airport, I had never visited an airport lounge.

Thankfully, I had a seven-hour layover in LA to discover its unexpected perks. I spent hours tasting every food item I could find and exploring the lounge's outdoor patio and quiet room.

My favorite perk was knowing that an Air New Zealand representative was stationed at the lounge, supplying flight updates so I didn't have to stress about missing an announcement or my flight. 

The lounge was a luxe respite and much nicer than the airport gates and restaurants I typically camp at during layovers. 

When it was time to board the flight, for the first time, I was one of the first people to walk onto the plane.

With a full stomach, I left the airport lounge, grabbed my carry-on suitcase, and navigated through the crowds of people waiting to board the flight. 

At my gate, I passed families and couples waiting for their boarding groups to be called while my group — business class, which is the airline's version of first class — was welcome to step onto the plane. 

I reached the jet bridge entrance, scanned my boarding pass, and joined two dozen business-class passengers. Together, we were some of the first people on the plane. 

As someone who has only ever sat in economy, boarding first was an entirely new experience. I'm typically one of the last people on the plane and accustomed to hunting for rare overhead luggage space.

Since there were fewer people, the business-class cabin felt more spacious. I had plenty of overhead storage available for all my belongings, and I didn't have to worry about being told I'd need to gate-check a bag. 

I knew to expect more space in business class, but my seat exceeded my dreams.

One of the biggest perks of flying business class on long-haul flights is the extra space. 

In economy, I'm used to cramped seats that hardly recline. 

Even with an expectation of a larger seat with more room in business class, I was shocked by how spacious the seat actually felt on my Air New Zealand flight. In front of me was a footrest, where at 5 feet and 8 inches, I could stretch out my legs. I also used this space to store my backpack. The tray table was larger than any I've seen in economy.

Perhaps the best part was the seat's ability to recline. I had four buttons to experiment with moving my seat backward and forward. Plus, I could lie flat, which was a valuable feature when it was time to sleep. 

Once on the plane, and before economy class had finished boarding, I was already sipping on Champagne.

As I boarded the Boeing aircraft, a flight attendant asked if I would like a glass of Champagne or something to drink before takeoff.

I'm used to a smiling flight attendant handing me a sanitizing wipe when I've boarded — not a glass of bubbly. 

I happily accepted a flute. Shortly after, another flight attendant came by with a tray of roasted nuts. I quickly learned I would never be hungry or thirsty on this flight.

I also realized the snacks I packed in my backpack wouldn't be needed. Instead, I was part of the group I'm typically envious of: the first-class travelers with space, snacks, and endless alcohol to enjoy on their plane ride.

A goodie bag of supplies for a long-haul flight was waiting in my seat.

I wasn't surprised to see a blanket and pillow waiting for me at my seat since I'd had those amenities in economy before, but I was thrilled to find a bag of complimentary toiletries.

The purple pouch contained a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, ear plugs, an eye mask, lip balm, lotion, a pen, and a pair of socks.

As I lathered the balm across my lips, I wondered how much the tube cost. I later found out that the Ashley & Co. Lip Punch retails for $15, and the brand's Soothe Tube lotion costs $25. 

These small perks added an element of luxury throughout the flight, and they came in handy when I realized I had left my toothpaste in the bottom of my carry-on suitcase. 

I thought airline courtesy meant never taking off your shoes. But before the plane left the jet bridge, I noticed that nearly everyone's shoes in business class were already off.

After taking inventory of all the free stuff at my seat, I noticed that nearly everyone around me had their shoes off and their complimentary purple and black striped socks on.

I sat there shocked. There are a few plane etiquette rules I always follow, like giving the person in the middle seat both armrests. At the top of my list is not taking off my shoes — no one wants to smell stinky feet. 

I succumbed to the peer pressure, tossed my rules aside, and slipped off my shoes. Between the length of the flight and having more space in business class, I felt less guilty taking off my shoes, which I'm not sure I would've done in economy. 

 

Flight attendants offered passengers hot towels multiple times throughout the flight.

After I took off my shoes, examined my toiletries, and settled at my seat, the flight attendants came around the cabin, introduced themselves, and offered each passenger a hot towel. 

There have been few instances in my life when I've received a hot towel, so I eyed my fellow passengers for clues on how to use it correctly. 

The people around me wiped their faces, necks, and hands, and I followed their lead. 

I felt spoiled using the towel and thought it was a relaxing way to start my flight.

Later, after a nap, the flight attendants came around with another hot towel before serving breakfast. This time, I confidently wiped the towel across my face. The warmth coated my skin, and I felt refreshed and ready for the morning. 

Dinner wasn't wrapped in aluminum foil and didn't come with plastic cutlery. Instead, I was served a restaurant-level, three-course meal.

When it was time to eat dinner, my first meal of the flight, a menu was provided at my seat outlining options for the three-course meal inspired by New Zealand ingredients. Beetroot-cured salmon, poached chicken, and chocolate truffle ice cream were listed on the menu. 

The flight attendants kicked off dinner service by placing a cloth napkin across my tray table and laying down a set of metal silverware. I quickly realized that this meal would be nicer than any airline meal I've ever had.

On previous long-haul flights, as a vegetarian, I was given one option on a tray. The meal was typically packaged and served with plastic cutlery.

The silverware at my seat already established a drastic difference. Next, I was offered butter, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Following the condiments, the flight attendants walked around with a basket of warm sourdough and garlic bread. 

Then, the first course arrived. I opted for a pescatarian meal and was served stuffed olive leaves. This was followed by a main course of Alaskan cod with saffron sauce and finished with a chocolate tart for dessert. 

The meal was rich and filling. From its appearance and taste, I thought the meal could easily be served in a nice restaurant rather than an airplane cabin.

There's a turn-down service for lie-flat seats in business class.

Our flight was a red-eye. We departed LA in the evening and were scheduled to land in Auckland in the early morning. 

After dinner was cleared, passengers slowly retreated to the bathroom to freshen up before bedtime. I headed to the restroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. By the time I was done, a flight attendant had converted my seat into a bed. 

During the turn-down service, a flight attendant presses a few buttons, which turns the upright seat into a horizontal bed. Then, they add a mattress topper, blanket, and pillow. Finally, they pull out the seat belts for safety and check in with each passenger to see if they want any final drinks, snacks, or items before dimming the cabin lights.

I thought the transition from dinner to sleep was effortless for passengers. As I grabbed my eye mask, I knew there was a good chance I'd actually fall asleep. I rarely have that confidence when sitting upright on a plane in economy. 

Sure enough, I slept for about five hours in the comfy bed and woke up to the smell of hot coffee and breakfast.

By the end of the flight, I felt like I knew my flight attendants.

Before our plane left the jet bridge, I was getting to know the flight attendants. They stopped at every seat to confirm the passenger's dinner order and introduce themselves.

While I've encountered plenty of welcoming flight attendants in the past, this was the first time I'd been on a flight where everyone exchanged names.

By the end of the long-haul flight, we were all on a first-name basis and sharing travel recommendations for our coming trips. 

Since there were fewer passengers in business class and just as many flight attendants when compared to economy, we were able to bond much more than I expected. 

After a 13-hour flight, I thought I'd beg the flight attendants to let me off the plane, but half a day in business class was even better than I imagined.

When our plane touched ground again, I wasn't ready to disembark. Instead, I could've spent another day in the glamorous cabin.

As a budget traveler, the chances I fly business class again are slim, so I soaked in every moment in my lie-flat seat and cherished every drop of Champagne. I hope I'll be able to experience the premium cabin again in my lifetime. At the very least, I'll bring my toiletry pouch on any future economy flight to replicate a small part of the experience. 

• I spent two nights in Snowmass, a ski town in Colorado.
• Snowmass is often mentioned in reference to its popular neighbor, Aspen.
• I've visited both and would book future trips to Snowmass.

It's hard to pinpoint what makes Colorado's ski town Snowmass stand out.

I could argue that it's the mountain itself. As one of the state's largest ski mountains, people spend entire days on the slopes, hitting every type of terrain and avoiding a single crowd.

I could say it's the community. It's impossible to avoid a friendly conversation with your waiter or the couple sitting next to you sipping après margaritas.

Maybe it's the town's casual nature. Sure, Snowmass has high-end restaurants and luxury lodges, but no one bats an eye if you eat $88 sashimi in Crocs and sweatpants.

Sara Stookey Sanchez, Snowmass' public relations manager, told me that it boils down to a "vibe."

"What I think makes us so special, and it's truly a terrible answer, but it's a vibe," she said. "The community lives and breathes Snowmass."

With Snowmass sitting just 15 minutes from Aspen, the town is rarely mentioned without reference to its glitzy neighbor. But after spending three days in Snowmass, I discovered what Stookey Sanchez meant.

Although both towns have their appeal, I'll stick to Snowmass for future ski trips.

In terms of skiing, Snowmass is the winner

Colorado is dotted with ski towns, and over the past four winters, I've checked more than a dozen off my list.

I've headed to Vail, where I felt transported to Europe. As a snowboarder living in Denver, Winter Park and Breckenridge have become favorites thanks to their proximity to the city. During my first Colorado winter, I spent three nights exploring Aspen while keeping my eyes peeled for celebrities.

Each destination has its highlights, but in terms of the actual mountain, Snowmass stands out.

Snowmass is one of the four mountains that make up the Aspen Snowmass Ski Resort. The other three include Aspen Mountain, Aspen Highlands, and Buttermilk.

Snowmass was ideal for me, an intermediate snowboader. There was plenty of terrain to explore, and for a full day, I rarely lapped a ski run. Instead, I breezed through empty lift lines and carved fresh tracks across the mountain.

Plus, the mountain seemed suited for all levels of experience. There are terrain parks, bunny hills, and plenty of black runs.

Meanwhile, I couldn't even snowboard during my trip to Aspen. While Aspen is known as a popular ski town, Aspen Mountain's terrain is limited to intermediate and expert skiers who can get down steep runs. When I visited a few years ago, I wasn't comfortable on the mountain. Even today, I'm sure I could get down the mountain, but I'm not sure I'd enjoy it.

During my three-day stay, I heard this from others. Skiers and snowboarders raved about Snowmass, and plenty mentioned that although they stayed in Aspen, they were coming to Snowmass every day to ski.

While Aspen has the reputation, Snowmass has the scale

The town of Snowmass is split into two areas: Snowmass Base and Snowmass Mall. Snowmass Base Village is much more modern, with fine dining options, a skating rink, and luxury condos and hotels. There's also the Snowmass Mall, home to retail, food, and more accommodations.

Snowmass' main appeal — at least to me — is its ski-in, ski-out accommodations. More than 14 of the town's hotels and condos have direct access to lifts. For example, I spent two nights at the Viceroy Snowmass, where a lift line was less than a five-minute walk from my hotel room. For me, getting on the mountain easily is a huge advantage when it comes to a ski trip.

Aspen, on the other hand, has far fewer ski-in, ski-out options. A quick search online shows just six, including The Little Nell, where a night during the winter rarely costs less than $2,500.

There are some areas where Aspen shines. Although upscale, the town itself feels more charming. Quaint buildings fill the town center, and the town's rich mining history is hard to ignore as you walk between Prada and Valentino stores. Art galleries dot the town, and a night at Aspen's Belly Up concert venue is something you won't find in Snowmass.

Plus, the food options in Aspen are incomparable. The town has more restaurants than Snowmass, including Michelin-starred options like Bosq.

With Aspen's exclusive reputation comes a higher price. Aspen is considered one of the most expensive ski towns in the US. In a 2024 ranking of the country's most expensive vacation destinations, OptimosTravel said the average weeklong trip to Aspen was $5,330 per person. According to Kayak, the average weeknight hotel cost in the first two weeks of January in Snowmass was about $1,040 compared to Aspen's $1,900 average.

After visiting both, finding cheaper eats was more doable in Snowmass, where you could find $15 sandwiches and $9 breakfast burritos.

Meanwhile, some costs between the towns remain the same. The mountains, for example, all share the same lift tickets, so skiing — no matter where you are — will cost about $250 a day.

But if you're staying in Snowmass, where accommodations are cheaper, your dollar stretches further, and you'll have a little more budget to après in Aspen.

The debate between the two towns is age-old

With only 15 minutes between the two towns, I'm far from the first to compare the pair, and I won't be the last.

Plenty of people prefer Aspen — it's a charming town to see and be seen. Others, however, love the expansive outdoors and laid-back vibe Snowmass provides.

And even if you do end up in Snowmass, I'd argue that a trip there wouldn't be complete without at least one night spent drinking, dining, and wandering Aspen.

For me, a ski trip boils down to the skiing itself. If I had to choose between lugging my snowboarding gear on a bus each morning versus finding a ski-in, ski-out condo in Snowmass and hitting more terrain, I'd choose the latter.

• Kilindi is a five-star resort on the island of Zanzibar off the Tanzanian coast.
• The couples-only property features 15 private villas, and rates start at $1,220 a night for a pair.
• I spent two nights and discovered an ideal honeymoon destination.

After two nights at Kilindi, I wondered how there were any hibiscus flowers left on the island of Zanzibar in Tanzania. Each day, the bright pink orbs were strewn across my king-size bed, garnished my daily coconut water, and were thoughtfully stuffed into rolled-up beach towels.

It's as if the resort didn't want me to forget I was in paradise. Even without a single flower, it would've been impossible not to notice inside Kilindi, an all-inclusive, five-star resort. Everywhere you look are reminders.

Last October, I spent two nights in one of Kilindi's villas. My stay included an open-air bathroom, butler service, and seven-course meals. (Business Insider received a media rate for the two-night stay.)

Lush gardens fill the pathways to each of the resort's 15 villas. When dusk hits, trees rustle as red colobus monkeys jump from branch to branch. If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of the nearby Indian Ocean or the erratic splash from your villa's private infinity pool.

A night at the couples-only property starts at $609 per person in a shared villa. The cost includes accommodation, meals, drinks, paddle boarding, kayaking, and laundry.

The 15-villa property was originally designed for a member of ABBA

Today, Kilindi is owned and operated by Elewana Collection, a luxury hospitality company with 16 properties across Tanzania and Kenya. Elewana acquired the property in the early 2010s, and it was previously designed for Benny Andersson of ABBA.

Kerian Day, the CEO of Elewana Collection, told BI that they acquired the resort to provide travelers with a post-safari retreat.

"You're having that adventure in nature, and it's very energetic," he said. "We felt that it was right to offer something that was complimentary to a safari and bush experience."

The first time Day saw the property, he said he was "wowed." My reaction was the same.

After spending 33 hours in airports and on planes, I landed in Zanzibar, where I had an hourlong drive to the resort. My driver navigated through roads and lively markets selling tropical fruits.

After a drive down a particularly bumpy dirt road, we arrived at Kilindi's entrance. The gates were pushed open, and I stepped out of the car into a pavilion, which serves as Kilindi's reception.

It was clear that the reception's location was intentional. It sits above the 15 villas, which allows you to soak in the entire 50-acre property.

Below are tropical gardens, and among the rich greenery are bright, whitewashed domes. Below that is a nearby fishing village, and the vibrant ocean stretches out behind that.

After filling out typical guest paperwork, I headed down a set of steps to my villa. Half of the villas sit on the ocean, and the other half are in the tropical bush.

After walking a gravel path, I reached the entrance. I met Lily, my personal butler, for the next three days.

She explained that each villa has a different design, but all feature an indoor bedroom area, an infinity pool, and an outdoor bathroom. My garden villa had three structures: the bedroom, the bathroom, and a lounge.

Together, we walked through the space's highlights. My bedroom had air conditioning, a large bed, a closet, a seating area, and a balcony. The four-poster bed was surrounded by a gauzy mosquito net and each evening, staff arrived for turndown service, transforming the room into a dreamy oasis.

Outside the bedroom was a plunge pool and a domed pavilion with a table and daybed. If guests didn't want to dine at the property's restaurant or on the beach, Lily said I could call her, place a food order, and she'd bring it up to my room for a meal in the lounge.

The third structure was the bathroom. The open-air pavilion had a pair of sinks, a toilet, and a waterfall shower with ocean views. Thanks to the surrounding gardens, there was privacy and no other villa in sight.

A beach and shared pavilion were a short walk away. It took about five minutes from my villa to either destination. At the beach, I found more lounge chairs, kayaks, snorkeling gear, and paddleboards. The beach connects to a nearby fishing village, so the area was bustling each morning with locals preparing their boats for a day on the water.

Guests can order drinks and food at the main pavilion and swim in the property's infinity pool. Dinner is served across the area: under the pavilion, near the pool, or in surrounding grassy areas.

Kilindi seemed like an ideal retreat for honeymooners and couples

For the three days, it was tempting not to leave Kilindi's property.

I hopped between my personal plunge pool and the main pavilion's infinity pool. I spent mornings paddleboarding around the shores of Zanzibar and headed to a multi-course breakfast afterward.

One evening, I had a seven-course dinner poolside. The next, I met a chef down at the beach who grilled me a seafood feast.

Beyond spa amenities, Kilindi's staff can also help arrange excursions across the island for additional fees. Zanzibar is home to Stone Town, where travelers can explore the island's historic neighborhood, which dates back to the 19th century. There are impressive diving and snorkeling spots along the island, and evenings can be spent watching the sunset on a wooden sailing dhow.

Lily was there throughout my stay, answering questions, serving food, sharing stories, and packing lunches when I finally ventured out for a morning of scuba diving.

It was a peaceful retreat for one, but I left thinking it'd be the ideal end of a safari honeymoon thanks to the hints of romance dotting the resort: No children were in sight, couples typically kept to themselves, and the entire property was designed around privacy. Activities like sunset boat rides were targeted for pairs, and the villas' plunge pools perfectly fit two.

And, of course, there were hibiscus flowers strewn across the bed each day.

• A safari vacation is filled with hidden costs.
• Before leaving, travelers pay for vaccines, visas, and necessary supplies for the trip.
• Once on a safari, costs like tipping and road transfers add up.

Whether you're staying in a five-star canvas tent at the edge of Tanzania's Serengeti National Park or heading on a budget safari in South Africa's Kruger National Park, a safari vacation is dotted with hidden costs.

These fees start before you even arrive at your destination. On a two-week trip across Tanzania, I encountered eight hidden costs that added thousands of dollars to the total of my trip. Take a look.

Before embarking on a safari, travelers are hit with hidden costs. One major one is vaccines and medication.

Vaccines and medications might be required for travel, depending on the destination. Uganda and Kenya, for instance, require a yellow fever vaccine before entering.

I was overwhelmed when I pulled up the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's website to figure out what vaccines I needed for Tanzania. Over a dozen vaccines were listed. While some were routine, others were diseases I had never heard of.

To be safe, I met with a travel nurse who researched where I was going and advised me on what I did and didn't need. Altogether, I spent $250 on malaria medication, a Typhoid fever vaccine, and the consultation. That, along with over-the-counter medication, sunscreen, and bug spray, put this unexpected cost closer to $300.

Visas also aren't cheap. Tanzania's tourist visa, for example, costs $100.

While plenty of destinations require a visa, the cost can vary.

In Tanzania, travelers apply for a yearlong tourist visa, which costs $100. If they're heading to Tanzania's Zanzibar Island, visitors are required to pay another $40 for mandatory travel insurance.

Altogether, I spent $140 just to be able to start my safari vacation.

Safari-goers are encouraged to wear certain clothes and colors, which might require some shopping.

Whether it's a travel agent or a TikTok video you're referencing for packing advice, the source is bound to mention bringing neutral colors for your trip.

Visitors are encouraged to wear olive, tan, brown, and khaki colors for safaris. They should avoid blues and blacks because they can attract tsetse flies, which can carry a sleeping sickness disease. Meanwhile, bold colors can scare off animals.

While you might have some athletic clothes in this color palette, chances are you'll need to do some shopping for the trip.

For example, I didn't have a neutral-colored sweater or pair of pants for the trip. By the end of my shopping spree, I had spent nearly $150 on clothes — a number I didn't factor into my original budget.

The season you travel in will also have a major impact on the cost of your trip.

Lodges across the Serengeti typically price their accommodations based on the season. Some lodges have two categories: high season and low season. Others divide prices by peak, mid, and low season.

In the Serengeti, the high season includes June through October and the end of December. During this time, guests can expect to pay more for accommodations.

Depending on the lodge, peak prices cost travelers hundreds of dollars more than low-season prices.

Once you're in the country you're traveling to, hidden costs continue. Quick bush flights and road transfers can add up.

Tanzania is home to a myriad of ecosystems and habitats. The Serengeti is a main draw for tourists, but nearby areas like the Ngorongoro Crater, Lake Manyara National Park, Mount Kilimanjaro, and Zanzibar Island are also popular stops on a Tanzania itinerary.

While many of these areas are short drives or flights away, the costs of road transfers and bush flights can add up if you're visiting multiple areas on vacation.

For example, a flight between Arusha and Zanzibar cost me $75, and a road transfer between two Zanzibar properties was $100. Within the Serengeti, a 30-minute bush flight between two lodges costs $300.

Transfers ended up being a major part of my safari budget, and I hadn't realized they would be so costly when I started planning the trip.

The rates for lodges often don't include conservation and park fees.

When researching the cost of a lodge or safari accommodation, travelers often see a sticker price for a night at the lodge.

While this price might include game drives, meals, and laundry services, it often doesn't include government levies, taxes, park fees, or conservation fees.

Those fees can add up. For example, I paid $283 in park and camping fees for a two-night stay within the Serengeti. At another lodge, the national park and concession fees were $271 for two nights.

Depending on the length of the trip, an extra $130 a night can quickly add up.

Some activities, like guided walks and community visits, might not be included in the stay.

As safari owners and travel agents have previously told Business Insider, these additional activities are worth it.

A guided walk in the bush, for instance, will give travelers a whole new perspective on the ecosystem. They'll see insects, birds, and plants that can't be spotted from a safari vehicle.

Similarly, community visits to learn about the history and culture of the Indigenous populations living in Tanzania offer new perspectives and global connections the average traveler doesn't get every day.

These activities were some of the highlights of my two-week Tanzania trip. While they had payoffs, they also cost extra. For example, I paid $100 for a community visit one day and $60 the next for a guided walk.

Tipping is another major cost to factor into your budget.

Tipping is customary across most of Africa; who you tip and how much you tip can quickly add up.

Meg van Niekerk, a safari planner for Go2Africa, explained that these tips support lodge staff, who often have spouses, parents, and children back home to support as well.

"It's like a blessing," van Niekerk said.

Fortunately, these costs are standardized, so it's something you can budget for ahead of time.

For example, Go2Africa recommends tipping $20 a day for your safari guide, $20 for general hotel staff, $15 for a butler, and $15 for your safari tracker.

There's also bound to be a few more people you didn't factor in — like the driver for a road transfer or a guide for a community visit. I found $100 to be a fair amount to budget per day for tips during my safari.

Van Niekerk added that this is "just a guideline," and travelers can tip more or less depending on their budget and the service they receive.

Research and talking to a travel agent before a trip can help you plan for hidden costs.

Sure, I knew a few bush flights and tips would impact the overall cost of my first safari, but I didn't know by how much.

Thankfully, conversations with travel agents helped me better understand just how much I could expect to pay for a safari vacation.

While the unexpected costs of a safari felt overwhelming at times, the experience was all worth it.

Van Niekerk put it best when she told me, "It starts with it being a once-in-a-lifetime trip, but you will come back."

Regardless of hidden fees, I don't doubt van Niekerk, and I'm sure I'll be back.