Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Travel memories aren’t always about distance—they’re about the moments that stay vivid.

The most recent journey that left a strong impression on me was to Kobe.

Walking through the port city streets, I felt something both familiar and new, as if every step revealed another hidden scene.

Thinking back, earlier trips also left their mark.

When Japan first reopened after the pandemic, I flew on a direct charter to Kagoshima. It was the first flight in years, and the local government made it a celebration—greeting us on both sides of the arrival gate, handing out gifts, even capturing a few travelers on local TV. 😆

Then came my very first cruise. The atmosphere on board was unlike any plane or train—slower, more relaxed, and filled with anticipation. With the sea breeze and the gentle sway of the ship, the whole journey felt deeper, as if time itself had stretched out.

And further back, a childhood memory: flying from Taiwan’s main island to Taitung, then heading on to Green Island. Back then, there were still short domestic flight routes that no longer exist today. For a kid, that short hop in the air felt like a grand adventure—one I would only later realize could never be repeated.

Perhaps the farthest journey isn’t measured by distance, but by how deeply it stays in the heart.

In the end, travel is less about where I went, and more about how those moments still travel with me.