What It Means to Stay Home When You Travel for a Living

Ask wildlife photographer and biologist Cristina Mittermeier when she last spent more than a few weeks at home and her answer comes quickly: 2014, when she and her partner launched their non-profit, SeaLegacy. For travel writer Julia Buckley, it was at least three years ago. For Traveler contributor Sarah Khan, it was more than eight.

Now, with coronavirus-related travel restrictions and shelter-in-place announcements spreading around the world, they're all homebound, forced to sit still for the first time in years. "I can’t see myself traveling for three or four months," Buckley told us, while Khan is wondering if she needs to postpone a trip in July to visit family in India. Through it all, they've lost assignments, expedition opportunities, and more.

We called Khan, Buckley, and Mittermeier—based in the U.S., U.K., and Canada, respectively—to see how they are grappling with staying inside and find out what their life looks like for the next few months, as their careers shift and morph while leisure travel comes to a standstill.

"We've taken a lot for granted."

Sarah Khan is a 'Condé Nast Traveler' contributor and travel writer based in New York City.

I have a lot of anxiety just in general, because being a freelancer in any industry right now is obviously very crazy. But I've tied my career for the last eight years to travel. It's making me reassess what I do, what I can do, and what I should be doing.

One of the things that struck me this weekend was that I won't see my parents for months and months, so the first thing I want to do when this is over is go home to Boston to see my parents and my sister. Then, go to California and see my brother and his family. Then after that, I want to go back to India, which is obviously having a hard time and things are probably going to get worse there, too. The first places that come to my mind for travel are the places I consider home.

We've taken a lot for granted, as far as how we interact with other people and how free we are with people. As much as there are a lot of inspiring stories that are engendering a feeling of community, I still feel like on a very specific interpersonal level we are going to have these anxieties about shaking hands and hugging and touching and interacting with people we don't know. And when you travel, that's all you do.

At the same time, I do think the virtual community is definitely thriving. I've had a lot of people that I haven't talked to in a long time—who have their own friends and family and lots going on—checking in on me, because they know I’m on my own in New York. It has made me want to reach out to those that I don’t talk to that often to check in and see how they're doing. Seeing the sense of community grow is really nice. I just hope it translates into the real world, when we all come out of this a little bit traumatized and shell shocked.

"I’m using this time to get back to being excited to travel again."

Julia Buckey is a 'Condé Nast Traveler' contributor and and author of 'Heal Me: In Search of a Cure.' She is based in the U.K.

I’m worried. I'm worried that we'll all get a bit more insular and a bit more reluctant to visit other countries. I’m worried that if we’re not careful, people will only want to book with big tour operators, stay at big, all-inclusive hotels, and book package holidays because everyone's scared of booking anything smaller. But I'm most worried that all the incredible places that I've been and the incredible people that I've met are not going to be there when it's time to visit them again.

I was in Italy at the end of February, at the very start of the outbreak—before it was clear how serious it was. Now, hearing what they're going through is just heartbreaking. I have friends that have lost everything. And they don't even care right now, they're just hoping that they stay alive for the next few months.

So for me, I can't wait to go back to Italy, spend as much money as I possibly can, and get writing about it again to bring people back.

When I travel, I buy loads of stuff. I keep it to remind me of the places that I've been, without ever really using it up because I’m never home. But now, I've emptied my cupboards. I'm using olive oil from Puglia. I'm eating salami that I bought in Parma in November and just never ate. I've got tortellini from Bologna from a trip in December. I'm washing my hands with this soap from Brazil. I’m drinking wine from my trip to Portugal last summer. I'm reading about places I've been to create this feeling that I'm planning for a trip, even though I can’t see myself traveling for three or four months.

Growing up, travel was a massive excitement and something that didn't happened all the time. I only went on three holidays abroad before I was at university. But when you’re on the road all the time—however excited you get and however overwhelmed you get by the places, the beauty, or the people—you're already on to the next trip, mentally. So I’m using this time to get back to really being excited to travel again.

"I’m surrendering to the experience of being stuck at home."

Cristina Mittermeier is a National Geographic contributing photographer and founder of SeaLegacy, a non-profit dedicated to building a healthy future for our oceans. She is based in Vancouver Island, Canada.

Since [Paul Nicklen] and I started SeaLegacy in 2014, I don't think I've spent more than three weeks at home in Vancouver Island at any given point. People think it's glamorous to travel all the time but it is brutal. It’s brutal to be away from home so often, to be packed in airplanes, to wake up in new place and not have any idea where you are or where the bathroom is at 5 a.m. So I’m just surrendering to the experience of being stuck at home and finding the joy of being in my own company.

We were very sad to cancel a number of expeditions that we have already funded. I was supposed to go with Andy Mann to Madagascar for two weeks to document a mangrove regeneration project, just south of a very popular tourist site called Nosy Be. Plus, 2020 is a very big year for the oceans: there were a number of really important conferences that were going to be happening and most of them are now canceled. I think that's the most painful.

To try and make up for that, Paul and I decided that one of our best contributions would be to use this time to use our Instagram accounts to educate and share our knowledge of the ocean through stories in something that we're calling “Ocean School.” We’re inviting children to build that foundation of ocean literacy and understand why things like climate change really matter.

I do think, though, that the silver lining is that our planet is getting a respite. We're seeing blue skies. Animals are coming back to places where they haven't been for years and I think emissions are dropping. The price we’re paying in human lives and in the economy is terrible. But I hope we emerge from this with a different outlook on what capitalism has done to our planet and humanity. And with a little more wisdom to try to draft a different version of the future.