Your Path to Luxury

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I Have Been Thinking About Marrying My Love for Writing, Travelling, and Content Creation for a Long Time. When I Told a Friend, He Said: "You Sound Entitled!"

I have been thinking about it for quite some time—how to marry my passion for writing, travelling, and content creation into one meaningful and fulfilling pursuit. When I shared this with a friend, expecting perhaps some encouragement or advice, he looked at me with a mix of surprise and amusement and said, “You sound entitled!”

At first, I felt a moment of hesitation, but then it clicked: yes, I am entitled. I am entitled to the best life has to offer. I am entitled to seek experiences that not only satisfy my curiosity but respect my hard work and the journey I’ve been on for the past 55 years. I have earned the right to enjoy the finer things, to travel with comfort, and to indulge in the luxury of a truly enriching experience. And why shouldn’t I?

I’ve worked in the media industry for decades, which has given me a wealth of knowledge and perspective about how things work behind the scenes. I’ve travelled since I was young, experiencing the thrills of adventure, exploration, and freedom. These years of both practical and personal experience have provided me with a deep understanding of what it takes to create, promote, and deliver a memorable travel experience.

Moreover, my studies in classics, art, history, and literature have refined my ability to observe and appreciate the finer details. It’s not just about getting from point A to point B anymore—it’s about the nuances that bring a place to life. Whether it’s the texture of a well-prepared meal or the tone of the service, the details matter. I can’t help but draw from my rich academic background to vividly describe a place, an experience, or a feeling, and I do so with the conviction of someone who knows the value of craftsmanship, whether it be in art, architecture, or hospitality.

As I’ve grown older, my perspective on travel has changed. What once was a spontaneous adventure filled with excitement has evolved into something more refined. As I’ve matured and gained wisdom, I’ve come to realize that details truly make or break an experience. I used to think I could rough it, but now, with the added challenge of fibromyalgia—where dizziness, fatigue, and pain can easily become the focus of a trip—I understand that comfort is no longer a luxury, but a necessity.

This doesn’t mean I expect perfection. Far from it. But it does mean I now value the little things that make a big difference—like a well-maintained bathroom, a clean bed, a genuinely kind and respectful staff, and food that nourishes both body and spirit. I’ve reached a point where I recognize that it’s often better to spend a little more, ensuring I fully enjoy the experience, rather than skimping and ending up dissatisfied. The notion of “getting a deal” doesn’t hold the same appeal it once did. I'd rather invest in quality and feel truly rejuvenated than to sacrifice comfort and later regret it.

And this brings me to something else I’ve come to realize: I am entitled to review the hospitality venues and services I encounter. Not because I am demanding or unreasonable, but because my experience and expertise warrant it. I have worked in the media, spent years traveling, and studied the arts and humanities. These tools allow me to evaluate an experience with a discerning eye, understanding not only what’s expected of the establishment but also what I, as a customer, deserve.

For years, I’ve held the belief that negative reviews are often written out of frustration, not reflection. When I was younger, I would sometimes find myself in situations where I would leave a bad review in a huff, unable to overlook what I saw as flaws. But now, with the benefit of age and wisdom, I realize that complaining is rarely productive. What matters more is understanding the value of an experience and providing feedback that helps others make informed choices, while also respecting the effort that goes into the service industry.

I’ve learned that the art of reviewing is not just about airing grievances but about understanding what went wrong, acknowledging what went right, and most importantly, offering constructive criticism. When a service or experience meets my expectations, I’ll share that. And when it doesn’t, I’ll think about why it didn’t and how improvements can be made—never as a way to tear down, but as a way to improve. This is the approach I take in writing, whether I’m composing a review, a travel piece, or reflecting on my experiences.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that my journey has given me both the entitlement and the responsibility to share my perspectives. My background, my experiences, and my values give me a voice in the world of travel and hospitality. But it also gives me a greater appreciation for the things I now consider standard—things that are often dismissed as luxuries in an industry still largely focused on catering to the “budget traveler” or those seeking extravagant experiences at the expense of quality.

So yes, I am entitled. But it’s not about entitlement in the way my friend might have thought. It’s about understanding that with age and wisdom, I’ve earned the right to experience travel in a way that suits my needs, values, and expectations. I’ve earned the right to enjoy hospitality that respects me as a customer, and I’ve earned the right to share my thoughts and experiences with the world in a meaningful and constructive way.

In the end, it’s not about luxury for luxury’s sake. It’s about the comfort, respect, and attention to detail that every traveler deserves. It’s about finding joy in the experience, not in the complaining. And that, I believe, is something worth sharing.