When I first began embarking on journeys with my children, I immersed myself in every online travel forum I could find, eagerly absorbing the collective wisdom of seasoned parents who had mastered the art of traveling with kids. I studied countless discussions that promised solutions to common challenges—tips for keeping children entertained on long flights, managing unpredictable meal times, and maintaining calm amid the inevitable chaos of travel. In those early days, I was determined to follow every unspoken rule and popular guideline that claimed to make family travel smoother. Some of these suggestions proved mildly effective, while others failed entirely. Over time, after taking my children across twenty-four countries and completing multiple road trips that spanned the width of the United States, I realized the most fulfilling experiences emerged only after I decided to abandon the so-called rulebook altogether. What follows are the pieces of conventional family travel advice that I deliberately disregard—and the more rewarding strategies I’ve adopted in their place.
One rule I regularly break concerns how frequently we change accommodations during a trip. The traditional advice for families, repeated endlessly on blogs and in guidebooks, is to choose a single home base and rely on day trips from there. This approach supposedly provides children with a sense of familiarity and continuity while reducing the fatigue that comes with constant packing and unpacking. I understand the logic behind it—children thrive on stability, and minimizing transitions can simplify logistics. Yet, I have found that moving from place to place not only enriches our overall experience but also introduces my children to a greater breadth of culture and geography. For instance, on a journey through Europe, we switched hotels every few nights, enabling us to explore an impressive sweep of the continent—from the sun-drenched ruins of Rome to the historic heart of Warsaw. Had we confined ourselves to Rome, even with day trips outward, our experience would have been significantly narrower, limited to a single region rather than an entire cultural mosaic. Similarly, in Japan, after concluding a guided tour in Kyoto, we chose not to remain there but to relocate to Osaka, a lively city just an hour away by train. That short move, though seemingly minor, saved us several hours of commuting time and granted us the ability to savor Osaka’s distinct rhythm at our own pace, free from the restrictions imposed by timetables.
Another widely accepted travel maxim that I routinely defy is the exhortation to rise before dawn in order to avoid crowds. The reasoning behind this advice is straightforward: early mornings promise shorter lines, quieter attractions, and fewer people. Yet for my family, adhering to rigid wake-up times feels counterproductive to the spirit of vacation. Instead of setting alarms and rushing to join the sunrise throngs, we choose to sleep in and embrace later evenings. By releasing ourselves from the tyranny of the morning alarm, our days unfold more organically, guided by energy, curiosity, and enjoyment rather than obligation. This rhythm suits us particularly well in warm climates, where late afternoons and evenings are cooler and more pleasant. The nighttime hours often hold a unique enchantment that daytime cannot match—the shimmering lights, the hum of laughter, and the breeze that carries with it a sense of wonder.
My children’s favorite destinations include amusement parks, where, unlike most families who rush through the gates the moment they open, we choose to arrive leisurely and stay until closing. There’s a certain magic in strolling through an amusement park as it begins to empty, riding attractions with no wait time, and watching fireworks ignite the night sky. Beyond parks, traveling at night has exposed us to open-air spectacles like the bustling medina of Marrakesh, which transforms after sunset into a carnival of color, aroma, and sound. In the silent desert of Wadi Rum, we once lay beneath a vast expanse of sky, mesmerized by the stars blooming into view—an experience that could never have occurred in daylight.
A third principle I intentionally disregard is the notion that one should avoid exposing children to places with difficult or painful histories. Many parents fear that visiting memorials or historical sites associated with tragedy will distress their children. While I respect their concern, I firmly believe that such encounters provide invaluable lessons in empathy and awareness. My approach is careful and deliberate: before each trip, I prepare my children by reading books suited to their ages and discussing in simple, honest terms the events connected to the sites we will visit. When we traveled through Poland, we walked together through the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum—a deeply sobering experience that allowed them to grasp, even in part, the weight of human suffering and resilience. In Japan, our visit to Hiroshima brought history into painful but essential clarity; there, my children listened to stories of the children who suffered during the atomic bombing and folded delicate origami cranes, emblematic of hope and peace. In Birmingham, Alabama, we followed the traces of the American civil rights movement, grounding abstract lessons from schoolbooks in the tangible geography of struggle and triumph. These experiences, though emotionally heavy, cultivate understanding and compassion. My hope is that when my children later encounter these topics academically, their comprehension will extend beyond dates and facts to a nuanced awareness of the human realities that shaped them.
Equally, I reject the idea that family trips must be limited to traditionally “kid-friendly” destinations. The internet abounds with lists of sanitized, predictable vacations tailored to families, emphasizing theme parks, beach resorts, or all-inclusive experiences with minimal unpredictability. While such trips can certainly be enjoyable, I do not believe children’s travel should be confined to these safe parameters. Children grow up in every part of the world—from rural villages to bustling metropolises—so there is no intrinsic reason they cannot visit such places as travelers. Many well-meaning individuals warned me against taking my children to India, citing possible illness, or to Jordan, claiming it might be unsafe. Yet neither prediction proved true. Through appropriate research, preparation, and adaptability—securing travel vaccinations, monitoring current events, and being ready to adjust plans if necessary—risks can almost always be mitigated. Of course, I would never knowingly bring my children into an active conflict zone, but outside of those extremes, the world offers innumerable opportunities to engage with difference safely. Naturally, we still enjoy more conventional vacations: a week on the beach or a trip to Disney World can be delightful. But I take immense satisfaction in knowing that my children are also experiencing the wider, more complex, and more authentic world beyond those familiar settings.
Finally, one of the simplest yet most liberating lessons I’ve adopted concerns what to bring. The modern parent is constantly bombarded with advertisements for so-called must-have travel accessories designed to make journeys smoother—gadgets that promise better sleep on airplanes, suitcases that double as toys or riding devices, and specialized shoes for endless walking. Early on, I succumbed to these temptations, dutifully testing every innovation that promised to ease our way. However, experience quickly proved that nearly all those items were unnecessary. Stripped of bulk, I found a light, flexible approach far more effective. Now I pack only the essentials: my son’s small blanket for comfort—a token of home amid unfamiliar places—and little else beyond standard necessities. Traveling light not only simplifies movement through airports, train stations, and narrow city streets, but it also teaches my children adaptability, reminding them that discovery is found not in possessions but in perspective.
Through rejecting conventional travel wisdom and adopting these alternative habits, our family has found a rhythm uniquely our own—one guided not by strict adherence to advice but by curiosity, openness, and a shared sense of adventure. What began as an attempt to perfect the process of traveling with children has evolved into an ongoing lesson in independence, spontaneity, and connection—the essence of what makes our journeys truly unforgettable.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/international-travel-kids-stress-free-2025-11
