Stories to Tell at 80: Why Mariola San Juan Travels Now, Not Later
When I imagine myself at 80, I don’t see a room full of neatly labeled storage boxes, untouched china sets, or stacks of receipts from things I barely remember buying. Instead, I see a worn leather journal with ink-smudged pages, photographs that smell faintly of saltwater and sunscreen, and a mind bursting with stories—stories about places I booked on a whim, about conversations with strangers who became friends, about the time I got arrested by the beauty of a sunrise so breathtaking it stopped me in my tracks.
Because at the end of the day, life’s real wealth isn’t in possessions—it’s in experiences worth telling and retelling.
Why I Refuse to Wait for “Someday”
Todos hemos escuchado la frase: “Viajaré algún día”.
Pero ese “algún día” es resbaladizo. Se mueve, se esconde y se escapa entre los dedos mientras esperas el “momento adecuado”. Y, con demasiada frecuencia, ese “algún día” se convierte en nunca. Viajar no es solo una recompensa para el futuro: es un catalizador para vivir plenamente ahora. Esperar hasta estar jubilada o hasta que “las cosas se calmen” significaría perderme la belleza irrepetible del presente. La versión de mí misma en mis 30, 40 o 50 años nunca será exactamente igual a la que soy ahora. Mis rodillas quizá crujan más después. Mi energía podría cambiar. Mi sentido del asombro puede evolucionar.
Por eso viajo mientras aún puedo subir las colinas de Santorini sin detenerme cada pocos pasos, mientras todavía puedo despertarme a las 4 a.m. para un paseo en globo sobre Capadocia sin quejarme, mientras todavía puedo distinguir la diferencia entre un croissant de una boulangerie parisina y uno del congelador del supermercado.
Las Posesiones Que Olvidamos vs. Las Historias Que Conservamos
Si te pidiera que nombraras los regalos exactos que recibiste en tu cumpleaños número 18, 25 o incluso 40, probablemente te costaría recordarlos. Pero si te preguntara por tu último viaje—las conversaciones que tuviste, el sabor de la comida, el color de los atardeceres—seguramente podrías describirlos con todo lujo de detalles.
Eso sucede porque las experiencias se graban más profundo en nuestra memoria que cualquier posesión. El suéter que compraste se desgastará. El teléfono que actualizaste quedará obsoleto en dos años. ¿Pero el momento en que nadaste con plancton bioluminiscente en Puerto Rico? ¿La noche que bailaste descalzo en un festival callejero en Lisboa? Esos recuerdos envejecerán como un buen vino, volviéndose más valiosos con el tiempo.
Travel as the Great Teacher
Travel is more than seeing pretty places—it’s a university without walls.
Every time I step off a plane, I’m reminded of how much I don’t know. A street vendor in Marrakesh might teach me more about patience and negotiation than any business class. A fisherman in Santorini might share a family recipe that has survived centuries. A cab driver in Cartagena might tell me what hope sounds like in a city that has rebuilt itself time and again.
When I’m 80, I don’t want to just be old—I want to be wise. And wisdom isn’t found in the repetitive comfort of home; it’s earned in the unpredictable, often humbling experiences of being somewhere completely new.
The “Booked” Mindset: Prioritizing Adventure
One of the biggest shifts I’ve made is booking experiences before things.
Instead of upgrading my car every few years, I booked flights.
Instead of buying another designer bag, I booked a villa in Tuscany with friends.
Instead of splurging on the latest gadget, I booked a train ride across the Scottish Highlands.
This isn’t about rejecting material comfort—it’s about realizing that comfort alone doesn’t feed the soul. When you start living in a booked mindset, you naturally prioritize moments that can’t be bought on clearance or replaced when lost. You start planning your year not around sales or shopping seasons, but around adventures—big and small—that will become the chapters of your life story.
When Time Arrests You in the Best Way
Sometimes, travel doesn’t just inspire you—it stops you cold. I call these arrested moments. The ones where the world seems to pause because you are completely consumed by what’s in front of you:
Standing in front of Michelangelo’s David in Florence, realizing every chisel mark tells a story of human ambition.
Watching the Northern Lights dance across the Icelandic sky, as if the universe itself was painting for you.
Listening to a grandmother in Kyoto explain the ancient tea ceremony, every movement a poem in itself.
These are the moments that arrest you, not with fear or trouble, but with awe so pure it feels like time itself is holding you still. These are the moments that will keep you company when you’re 80 and sitting in your favorite chair.
The Myth of “Later”
Many people think they’ll have more time, energy, and money to travel later in life. But “later” often comes with its own limitations:
Health may limit your choices. Hiking Machu Picchu is easier at 40 than at 70.
Responsibilities shift. Family care or financial constraints may increase.
The world changes. Political shifts, environmental changes, and global events can make certain destinations harder—or impossible—to visit.
The truth is: there is no perfect time to travel. There is only now.
How I Choose Where to Go
When people ask me how I pick my destinations, my answer is simple: I follow a mix of curiosity, opportunity, and gut feeling.
Curiosity: What place sparks my imagination? Where can I learn something new?
Opportunity: Are there festivals, seasons, or events that only happen at a specific time?
Gut feeling: Sometimes you just know a place is calling you.
I’ve learned that waiting until the stars align perfectly is a surefire way to let dreams slip away. If the timing feels even slightly right, I book it.
What I Hope to Remember at 80
At 80, I want my life to be a gallery of stories:
The afternoon in Cartagena when I followed the sound of salsa music into a hidden courtyard.
The early morning in Kyoto when cherry blossoms fell into my tea like confetti from the heavens.
The impromptu beach picnic in Puerto Rico that lasted until the stars came out.
I want my wrinkles to be laugh lines from sharing stories, not stress lines from worrying about things that never really mattered.
Why I’m Sharing This with You
Because maybe you’re reading this and thinking: I’ll travel when I have more time, money, or freedom.
But here’s the thing—you can start small. Travel doesn’t have to mean crossing oceans. It can be a road trip to a nearby town, a weekend exploring a new city, or even a day spent learning something new about your own neighborhood. The important thing is to start. Because once you do, you’ll realize that travel is less about distance and more about perspective.
When I’m 80, my bank account might not remember the balance from 2025. My closet might not remember the clothes I once loved. But my heart will remember:
The joy of tasting a new dish for the first time.
The kindness of a stranger offering directions.
The thrill of booking a trip with nothing but hope and a backpack.
And if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to tell those stories again and again, to anyone who will listen, and maybe inspire them to book their own adventures now, not later. Because the best investment you can make is in memories you’ll still be talking about decades from now.
So go ahead—book it. Live it. Tell it. And never let someday steal your stories.
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