My Name is Lindsay and I’m a Travel Journalist

Eight years ago, I started a little blog with a pivotal first post titled, ‘My Name is Lindsay, and I’m a Love Addict.’

 

At the time, I was a 22-year-old with lofty dreams and a rather singular view of the world. I had the hopes of becoming a writer in New York and more importantly, finding the love of my life. While one of those things came true—in dividends—as years passed and blog posts collected, I grew weary and exhausted of writing about my dating life. I had lost interest in detailing every intimate moment from my personal experience for the web to read. Sure, dating was hard. Meeting someone who wanted to share his Netflix-and-chill evenings and his coffee-stained mornings with me seemed impossible. All the time I spent divulging and dissecting my lack of romance left me disenchanted by the whole process—and I found myself seeking greener pastures.

 

Parisian pastries. Caribbean coasts. British baths. Roman romance. Spanish sangria. 

 

Views like this one.

 

 

I became less inspired by sitting across from a man at yet another happy hour, feigning interest in mindless, meaningless banter—and found myself developing a relationship with my passport. And hey, as they do when things are right: we got serious, fast.

 

The more I traveled, the happier I felt. The more often l flew out of New York, the less I looked forward to returning. With each article I pitched, I found myself suggesting angles about exotic dishes and hotel suites, hidden gems, culture immersion and local finds. It was after I returned from yet another vagabond stint abroad that I realized the era of Confessions of a Love Addict had passed. I wasn’t that same 22-year-old. I still craved love—I hope I always will—but it wasn’t my priority anymore. The quest for it wasn’t what brought me joy or fulfilled my spirit. It didn’t ignite the fire inside of me that drove me to be a journalist in the first place, all those years ago.

 

So, on February 14, 2017, I officially bid adieu to the blog I wrote for the majority of my 20s.

 

On March 20, 2017, I was accepted into Remote Year, standing in the hallway after a sleepless, super fun, night drinking my way through NOLA.

 

On April 2, 2017,I put in a non-refundable $5,000 deposit to secure my spot within my nomadic community, Yugen.

 

On May 23, 2017, I put in my notice at my former full-time content director gig at ClassPass.

 

On June 23, 2017, I went freelance-full as a journalist, content strategist and editor.

 

On July 25, 2017, I lugged my mattress to my East Village curb and boarded a one-way ticket to Croatia, with a pitstop through Greece.

 

On July 30, 2017, I started Remote Year.

 

And the rest—at the risk of sounding trite— is history

 

Since making this leap of faith—in my career, in my location, in my way of living, in my perspective of the planet and its people—I’ve been amazed at the priceless, immeasurable growth I’ve experienced. Every damn day, I feel immensely blessed by editors who have assigned me the types of stories I’ve always dreamt of writing, of the opportunities that have developed my voice and my talent, of the workspaces dotted across the map that have provided a desk, WiFi, fodder, company and sunlight for my ramblings.

 

So, on June 11, 2018—hanging on to my 29th year until the last second—allow me to reintroduce myself:

 

My name is Lindsay, and I’m a travel journalist.

 

Though I truly have no idea where I want to create my home base once I return stateside sometime in November, after almost a year of being my own boss, creative director, editor, social media strategist and accountant—I’ve never been more confident I selected the right path for myself. My hope is the runway I’ve paved encourages others to buy that boarding pass, buckle up and take off, since there is nothing truly as magical as soaring with your own wings. (And yep—the turbulence is worth it. Just order a cocktail. You’ll be fine.)

 

As a toast to this new chapter and as a way of digging in my heels to lean all the way in, I’m excited to share my new website and branding. Here, you can find need-to-know information about my services and a selection of my featured clips across various sectors—from travel and wellness, to career and beyond. And yep, I’m back to blogging: or as I like to put it: the words I don’t get paid for (but love anyway). So, make sure to browse through a year’s worth of sunkissed moments I experienced from Prague and Japan to Thailand and Peru.

 

While I’m not ready to spill the scoop—just yet, anyway—I’m also working on a book project highlighting my journey from the age of 24 until now: not only as a woman and a writer, but as a traveler and a lifelong, hopeful romantic.

 

 

I could not have been brave enough to proudly name myself a ‘travel journalist’ without the help of an army of women. I’m incredibly lucky to be surrounded by inspiring females who serve as my proofreaders, my cheerleaders, the keepers of my esteem, my partners in the crimes I admit to (and the ones I don’t), my Gchat steadies, my WhatsApp readies, my best friends and forever travel buddies, my business partners, my love gurus—my gals. How I adore you.

 

A few special thanks to specific ladies who made this redesign/rebrand a reality: Jessica Tatham, a talented web developer and entrepreneur who founded DevelopHER Designs, catering to female executives and trailblazers. Without her, the design and the function of this site would have been questionable at best. She is also a best friend who stuck my side from food poisoning on Morocco to bug bites in Colombia—and is always the first to share my articles. And bring me Starbucks, sin leche.

 

To Kasey Buck, who I met through the web. She’s an efficient, creative and kind logo designer who took my very, very, very little direction (‘I think I want something with travel and my last name, but sophisticated, not too much, black and white, maybe color—ugh, I don’t know.’), and came up with something beautiful.

 

To Kirsten Quisenberry, a dear friend, fellow Yugen, and a pint-sized graphic designer with the dedication and ambition of a superstar. She can somehow take any image, any idea and manage to deliver exactly what you didn’t know you needed.

 

And last, but not least—to my mama. Thank you for encouraging me to pursue my goals, for never telling me they were too large or too much. For buying me luggage tags and external batteries, and for responding to every last Instagram story I’ve posted, no matter the time zone. You have given me more than I could ever repay you for—though maybe those string-bound books from elementary school will be worth something on eBay, one of these days.

 

 

So, my next steps?

 

I’m excited to see where my spirit, my wanderlust, and my articles lead me. If the last year has taught me anything, it is that we can’t predict any of it. The magic happens when we rest into the unknown, when we release expectations, when we admit our faults and celebrate our gifts, when we work together and not against one another, and when we listen to find the story, instead of defining it on our own.

 

So, stop fearing it. Drink the wine, say ‘hi’ to a stranger, book the ticket, pitch the idea and follow your heart… always.

 

Live. Travel. Write. Love. Repeat.

 

See you in the skies—and the bylines,