Don’t get me wrong. I’ve stayed in plenty of vacation rentals. If you’re traveling with three families, need four bedrooms and a full kitchen, they make a lot of sense.
But as I’ve gotten older, they’ve started feeling less like vacations and more like temporary homeownership. To-do list included.
None of those things are all that difficult. It’s just that I already have my own chores waiting for me when I get home. While I’m on vacation, I don’t want to rent someone else’s.
MAYBE I’M THE ONE WHO CHANGED
When I was younger, I thought you could measure luxury.
A bigger room. A bigger kitchen. More bedrooms. More space.
These days it’s taken on a whole new meaning.
Luxury is someone else making the bed. Luxury is not wondering where the extra garbage bags are. Luxury is asking the concierge for a recommendation instead of scrolling through reviews for an hour.
Luxury isn’t having more square footage. It’s having fewer responsibilities.
That’s why, these days, you’ll usually find me in a hotel instead of a vacation rental.
THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU JUST CAN’T RENT
You can rent a house. But you’re never going to find a vacation rental where…
…your afternoon ends with a complimentary rooftop cocktail overlooking San Miguel de Allende.
…your “room” floats through the Douro Valley while you enjoy a glass of wine on the Sun Deck.
…your lobby is also home to one of Japan’s Michelin-starred restaurants, just an elevator ride from your room.
…you wake up at a private game reserve in South Africa, head out on safari, and come back to cocktails around the fire.
These places aren’t just where you sleep. They’re part of the reason you went in the first place.
AND THE BEST PART?
Someone else folds the towels, makes the bed, takes out the trash – and cleans whatever that is that my son left in the sink.
I simply get to enjoy my vacation.
I know rentals work for a lot of people. They’ve worked for me.
But now?
I’d much rather spend my last morning on vacation lingering over a breakfast I didn’t cook than wondering if I remembered to put the keep-the-bears-out bungee cords back on the trash bins.
Somewhere around my 40th birthday, my body and I stopped being on the same team.
Between deadlines, errands, and trying to remember why I walked into a room, activities that used to be fun started sounding like a commitment I didn’t have time for.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t do things. I just couldn’t afford to get hurt doing them.
I started approaching physical activity the way people approach financial investments. Is this really worth the risk?
Sure, rock climbing sounds fun. But have we considered sitting? Sitting has a proven track record.
AND THAT, I THINK, IS HOW IT HAPPENS
You don’t wake up one day and decide to stop being active. Life just gets in the way.
The calendar fills up – and speeds up – and suddenly, things you used to look forward to become things you’ll “get back into one of these days.” Lies.
It’s not intentional. It’s just what happens.
And after enough years of that, it’s easy to forget that there’s still a part of you that likes being out of breath every once in a while.
It’s the part that enjoys being sore for a good reason – not because you dared to sleep on a hotel pillow for one night.
THE SWEET SPOT
That’s what I really appreciate about these Roam by Tauck journeys. They don’t ask you to summit Everest or run an ultramarathon.
They simply give you the time and the opportunity to do things that rarely make it onto the calendar anymore.
To move.
To break a sweat.
To feel alive again.
To spend a few hours doing something other than staring at a screen (speaking of… you should definitely check out Ann’s digital detox story).
And the beauty is, you get to choose what that looks like.
On the New Zealand: North & South itinerary, it could mean trekking a stretch of the Queen Charlotte Track, one of the country’s most celebrated coastal trails.
It could mean kayaking through Marlborough Sounds, exploring secluded coves and forested shorelines inaccessible by road.
Or it could mean casting a line into trout-rich waters near Taupō with an expert guide beside you – before returning to Huka Lodge for dinner.
None of these things are about setting world records. But they’re not passive either. They ask something of you.
The climb to a ridgeline view. Paddling farther than you expected. Covering more ground than you would back home.
The kind of active experiences that remind you a vacation doesn’t always have to mean slowing down. Sometimes it means finally having the freedom to speed up a little.
And the rewards tend to be pretty great.
After a morning trek, lunch tastes better. After an afternoon in a kayak, the view from your veranda feels even more view-y. And after a day on the river, the world’s best Sauvignon Blanc feels a little more deserved.
Not because you suffered for it. Because you earned it.
FINALLY GETTING BACK INTO IT
Life has a habit of crowding out the things that make us feel most alive.
The hike. The paddle. The long walk with no destination.
But these journeys are designed to make room for those things again.
And somewhere between the trail, the kayak, and the glass of wine waiting for you back at the lodge, you remember something.
You never really stopped enjoying these things.
You just stopped having time for them.
And honestly, that’s a damn good reason to stop putting them off.
When I was a sophomore in college, I had a history professor who completely changed the way I thought about the subject.
Most history classes felt like an endless list of dates, names, and facts you were expected to memorize just long enough to survive a test. His classes felt more like episodes of a really good TV drama.
He told stories. Not “history stories.” Human stories. And we, his students, found ourselves binging world history decades before binging became a thing.
In his classroom, kings, generals, politicians, and ordinary people weren’t names in a textbook. They were characters. They had flaws. They succeeded. They failed. They loved. They worried. And many times, they made spectacularly bad choices.
History wasn’t something that happened. It was something people lived through.
For our final research paper, he gave us an assignment I’ve never forgotten. We had to write in the first person, using actual historical sources, and tell a story. I chose to write from the perspective of a Roman soldier stationed in Pompeii during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t survive. But I did get an A on the paper. (I’m pretty sure I still have it somewhere.)
More importantly, I developed a fascination with Pompeii that stuck with me long after the semester ended.
THE PLACE I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE
For years, Pompeii existed only in books, documentaries, and my imagination. Then, about fifteen years later, my wife and I found ourselves in Rome on our honeymoon. We decided to take a day trip south.
Suddenly, I wasn’t reading about Pompeii anymore. I was standing in it. And it was every bit as incredible as I hoped it would be.
What’s funny is that when people talk about Pompeii, they usually focus on one thing: the casts. Those haunting figures frozen in time. They’re remarkable, of course. And seeing them in person is powerful. But they’re not what I remember most.
I remember the deep wagon-wheel ruts carved into stone streets by generations of traffic.
I remember faded paintings that somehow still cling to walls after nearly two thousand years.
I remember standing where gladiators once trained.
I remember walking through homes and courtyards and realizing that, despite all the centuries between us, the people who lived here weren’t all that different from me.
And I remember Mount Vesuvius. You can see it from just about everywhere. And even now, it feels like it’s watching.
THE STORY MOST PEOPLE DON’T KNOW
Here’s something many visitors don’t realize.
Those famous figures aren’t actually people turned to stone. When Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, the city – and thousands of its inhabitants – were buried beneath volcanic ash and debris. Over time, the bodies of the victims decomposed, leaving hollow spaces in the hardened ash. Centuries later, archaeologists discovered these voids and carefully filled them with plaster.
What we see today are casts of the spaces people once occupied.
Not the people themselves, but the traces they left behind.
In a strange way, I think that’s even more moving.
LOOKING BEYOND THE SPECTACLE
Pompeii attracts millions of visitors every year. And understandably so. It’s one of the most extraordinary archaeological sites on Earth.
But it’s also easy to reduce it to a spectacle. To focus on the eruption. The tragedy. The dramatic final moments.
The longer you spend there, though, the more you realize that the real story isn’t how Pompeii ended. It’s how Pompeii lived.
The bakery where bread was made. The shops that opened each morning. The homes filled with artwork. The streets crowded with merchants, workers, travelers, and children.
The details are what make Pompeii feel surprisingly emotional. They’re familiar.
History often feels distant because we focus on what makes people different from us. But, when you’re there, Pompeii reminds us how much we actually have in common.
A STORY THAT ISN’T FINISHED YET
One of the most fascinating things about Pompeii is that archaeologists are still uncovering new pieces of the city today.
The story isn’t finished.
On Roam by Tauck’s Rome, Sicily & Malta journey, guests have the rare opportunity to go beyond the areas most visitors see and step into a restricted active excavation zone, where new discoveries continue to emerge from beneath the ash, helping historians better understand what everyday life looked like before the eruption.
It’s a chance to see history while it’s still being revealed. And, for someone who has been fascinated by this place since a college history class decades ago, that’s pretty incredible to think about.
THE TRACES WE LEAVE BEHIND
While I was thinking about what to write for this post and doing a little research, I found myself trying to remember the name of that professor. I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t.
But I did come across an old university article about a beloved history professor who passed away just a few years after I took that class.
I can’t say with complete certainty that it was him. But some details line up in a way that makes me think it probably was. (I actually ordered my transcript to find out for sure – but unfortunately it doesn’t show professors’ names.)
If that’s true, it’s strange to realize that someone whose name had slipped from my memory still managed to shape the way I experience places like Pompeii all these years later.
And maybe that’s why Pompeii still matters.
We don’t know the names of most of the people who lived there. We don’t know what made them laugh. We don’t know what they talked about at dinner.
We don’t know what they planned to do on a tomorrow that never came.
But pieces of them remain. A painting on a wall. A groove in a road. A loaf of bread preserved in ash. A home they loved.
Enough to remind us they were here. Enough to make them impossible to forget.
Professor, I hope you’re resting easy. I wish you could know what an impact your class and that assignment had on me. It was one of the first times I realized I might be able to turn this whole writing thing into a real career. Wherever you are now, just know that your story – like all those stories you told us years ago – lives on.
I’m the one who shows up 10 minutes early to everything. The one sitting in the car while everyone else is “just grabbing one more thing.” The one who checks the time… and then double-checks the time just in case it changed by half a second.
Of course, my wife loves this about me. (She does not, in fact, love this about me.)
So, when I went to Switzerland the first time, something clicked – literally and figuratively. Everywhere I looked, there were clocks. Beautiful ones. Precise ones. Old ones that had clearly been ticking much longer than I have. And, for the first time in my life (pun intended), I felt like I was surrounded by people who understood the importance of knowing exactly what time it is.
It was, in many ways, my paradise.
So… why Switzerland?
Switzerland didn’t just stumble into becoming the world’s timekeeper.
It started in the 1500s, when reformer John Calvin banned flashy jewelry in Geneva. No gold chains. No decorative excess.
Which created a bit of a problem for all the jewelers. So they pivoted. (Am I the only one who can’t hear that word without thinking of Ross and the couch moving scene from Friends?)
If they couldn’t make something decorative, they’d make something functional. Something precise. Something that required just as much skill – maybe more.
They started making watches and clocks.
Fast forward a few centuries, and Switzerland became synonymous with precision. Not just in watchmaking, but in everything… trains, engineering, chocolate, you name it.
They didn’t just keep time. They perfected it.
What makes Swiss clocks different?
There’s a level of craftsmanship that borders on obsession. Tiny, intricate mechanical movements. Parts engineered to microscopic tolerances. Designs that are as beautiful as they are functional.
But it’s not just the mechanics that make me feel all warm and fuzzy. It’s the philosophy behind them.
Swiss clockmaking is about reliability. Longevity. Getting it right… and then getting it right again, every second, for years.
There’s something comforting about that. In a world where most things are built to be replaced (just ask my dishwasher and dryer), Swiss clocks are built to last.
A culture that respects time
In Switzerland, trains leave exactly when they’re supposed to. Meetings start when they’re scheduled. Clocks – whether they’re in a cathedral tower or on your wrist – just quietly do their job.
And the result is something we don’t talk about enough: Life feels calmer. Because when everything runs on time, you don’t have to spend your energy worrying about time. You can actually enjoy it.
The luxury of time
That’s really what makes this interesting.
Swiss clocks aren’t just about precision. They’re about what precision gives you.
Time back. The kind you don’t normally get at home.
Time to sit at a café a little longer. Time to take the scenic train instead of rushing. Time to wander without feeling like you’re falling behind – something Cindy captured perfectly in her blog post on Free Time: The Ultimate Luxury.
On our Bern & the Matterhorn journey, you experience that rhythm firsthand – from the medieval clock towers of Bern to the perfectly timed mountain trains that carry you into the Alps.
It’s a place where everything works exactly the way it should… which means you can stop worrying about it.
My kind of place
I still check the time way more than I should. I still show up early. I still sit in the car waiting. That’s not changing anytime soon.
But in Switzerland, it didn’t feel like a quirk. It felt like I just fit in. And honestly, that might have been the most relaxing part of the whole trip.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m almost late for a meeting.
The first glass of wine I ever had was in an airport.
I was sitting in a wine bar in Washington Dulles International Airport, waiting for a flight home after a client meeting with a popular dial-up internet provider. (Yes kids, we used to have to call the Internet.)
Across the table was my boss – the guy who taught me pretty much everything I know about being a professional copywriter.
He ordered a Sauvignon Blanc.
At that point in my life, I knew absolutely nothing about wine. (Shoutout to Gabby, who recently admitted the same in her Unscripted blog post. It’s good. You should read it.)
So I did what any young professional trying to look like they belonged in a wine bar would do. I said, “I’ll have the same.”
The bottle was The Crossings, from the Marlborough region of New Zealand.
And I remember thinking something very simple:
Ooh… I like this.
Bright. Fresh. A little citrusy. Super easy to drink. It felt summery, even though we were in an airport. In Dulles.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that first glass happened to come from one of the places in the world where Sauvignon Blanc thrives.
So why is Marlborough so good at this?
The short version is: the environment there is almost unfairly perfect for the grape.
Marlborough sits at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where vineyards get long sunny days and very cool nights. That temperature swing helps Sauvignon Blanc keep its crisp acidity – the thing that makes it feel so refreshing.
The soils there are rocky and well-drained, which forces the vines to work a little harder. Hard-working vines tend to produce smaller grapes with more concentrated flavor.
Then there’s the ocean. Marlborough isn’t far from the sea, so the air stays cool and clean, and breezes move through the vineyards. The result is Sauvignon Blanc that’s intensely aromatic – lime, grapefruit, passionfruit – but still sharp and lively. (At least that’s what I’ve read… I honestly couldn’t tell you what a passionfruit tastes like.)
It’s the wine equivalent of turning the brightness all the way up.
A WINE THAT MATCHES THE LANDSCAPE
There’s another reason Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc works so well. It tastes like the place it comes from.
New Zealand is a country of big skies, sea air, and landscapes that feel incredibly alive – the kind of place where you’re hiking coastal trails one day and staring at waterfalls the next.
That freshness shows up in the wine.
On our New Zealand: North & South journey, one stop takes you straight into the Marlborough wine region, where you sit down for lunch at a boutique vineyard and taste local wines just steps from where they’re grown.
It’s one of those moments where the wine suddenly makes complete sense. The air, the light, the ocean nearby – it all feels connected.
The first glass still wins
I’ve had plenty of wine since that glass in the airport. Some expensive. Some in a box. But that first Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc still sticks with me.
Maybe because it was my first.
Or maybe because, completely by accident, I picked one of the best places in the world to start. (Marlborough, not Dulles.)
You get on, you glide for a bit, you get off, you repeat. Pleasant enough, but not exactly five-star accommodations.
You see, in my head, “boat” means my in-laws’ pontoon – where I’m the one bringing the drinks, so I can tell you for certain that it’s not an all-inclusive situation.
And then I stepped onto a Roam by Tauck riverboat and realized: this isn’t a boat. It’s a boutique hotel that just happens to be able to float… and move… from one incredible destination to the next. (Fun fact: they’re not even called boats… they’re ships.)
Better yet… Roam by Tauck makes sure you actually have free time to enjoy the ship – not just sleep, shower, and sprint back out the door. (Is it called a door on a ship?)
When you start to treat the riverboat like the luxury hotel it is, you can do what the best travelers do: use the in-between moments. And on the river, the in-between moments can be some of the best parts.
LATE MORNING SLEEP-IN… SERIOUSLY
One of the best parts of Roam by Tauck is that you don’t have to do everything. So, if your body says “sleep,” the answer is “yup.”
The cabins are quiet, the beds are plush, and the ship carries fewer guests than most similar-sized riverboats, which means you’re not living in a hallway full of foot traffic and door slams.
This is the kind of trip where you can take a mid-morning nap and still feel like you’re doing travel the right way.
A MORNING ROUTINE YOU CAN GET USED TO
You wake up. Pull back the curtains. Suddenly, you’re staring at a castle, a vineyard, a tiny riverside town, or a foggy stretch of water that looks like it was designed by a moody French painter. If you’re staying in one of our many 225-square-foot cabins, you can actually enjoy that view without doing the awkward “one person stands, one person sits” dance. (If you want to fully treat yourself, choose one of our 300-square-foot suites, which are basically bigger than my first apartment.)
Bonus: there’s a Nespresso machine waiting for you, and the minibar gets restocked daily, so go ahead and start your day with whatever floats your boat… or ship.
FIND YOUR FAVORITE AFTERNOON SPOT(S)
If you’ve ever stayed at a beautiful hotel and spent the whole day exploring, only to realize you never once touched the pool… this is your shot at redemption.
Because on a Tauck riverboat, there’s space to actually be.
Want sunshine and views?
Head to the Sun Deck, order a drink, and pretend you’re the main character in a European movie.
Want quiet and cozy?
Find a corner in the Panorama Lounge, where you can read, journal, people-watch, or just stare out the window like you’re thinking about something profound.
Want to make a splash?
Take a dip in the plunge pool.
Want to feel virtuous?
Sneak in a quick workout in the fitness center, then reward yourself with that minibar again (hey… you’re on vacation).
All of this is easier because there are no lines, no reservations, and plenty of open seating, thanks to the intentionally limited guest count.
SAIL AWAY: THE BEST HAPPY HOUR EVER
Let’s talk about one of the most satisfying micro-moments on the river: sail away.
The day’s excursion ends, you’re back onboard, and the ship quietly glides away from the dock while the town starts to shrink behind you.
This is your cue to grab a cocktail – either on deck or in the lounge – and lean fully into the fact that all, yes all, drinks are included, 24/7, including premium wines and spirits.
It’s basically the most civilized version of day drinking, because it’s paired with castles.
CASUAL ANYTIME SNACKS
Every great hotel has that one place you end up returning to more than you expected. On board, that place is often Arthur’s – the relaxed, casual venue where you can grab something quick, snacky, or comforting any time of day. (Try the burger. Trust me.)
It’s perfect for:
– Post-excursion cravings – Afternoon “I could eat” moments – Pre-dinner “I’m just looking” moments – Late-night “I want something small but will somehow eat too much” moments
And if you’re the type who loves options, dining is genuinely flexible – from Compass Rose for gourmet regional cuisine to in-suite dining when your only plan is to relax.
EVENING ENTERTAINMENT VIBES
At night, the lounge shifts into this warm, communal space where the day winds down. There’s often entertainment, live music, or a relaxed vibe where you can:
– Have a glass of wine or three – Rehash the day’s highlights – Make friends (or avoid people entirely… both valid) – Get that perfect “we’re traveling” feeling without having to go anywhere
And because the guest-to-staff ratio is like 2.5 to 1, you’ll notice the service feels personal – the kind where they remember what you like and somehow manage to appear with it at the exact right time.
IN THE END, YOU DON’T HAVE TO CHOOSE
The thing about Roam by Tauck is that you’re not stuck in an all-day, all-activity schedule. You get breathing room. And on the river, that breathing room is the ultimate luxury.
You can explore Europe and still come home to a plunge pool, a massage, a quiet lounge chair, and a perfectly made cocktail while the scenery slides by outside.
It’s the rare kind of travel where the hotel isn’t just where you sleep. It’s where you live – only better. And if you’re ready to make a riverboat your favorite “hotel” in Europe, you can do it on Prague & the Danube or Porto & the Douro Valley – where the scenery is ridiculous, the drinks are included, and the only thing you’ll have to plan is whether you’re doing the sail-away from the Sun Deck or from your lounge chair, like the professional relaxer you’ve become.
Full transparency: I did not think I’d be a “group travel guy.”
I’m a planner. Some might say a control freak. I love a good spreadsheet. I’m the kind of person who picks my meal from a restaurant menu (and researches nearby parking options) before I’ve even made the reservation. The idea of voluntarily handing the reins over to someone else – and then making small talk with strangers for a week? That sounded like the perfect way to send my anxiety into overdrive.
But then something weird happened.
I tried it. And I actually… loved it.
I know. I know. My wife was shocked too.
HERE’S THE THING NO ONE TELLS YOU…
Making new friends in your 40s is hard work. It basically takes the same energy as dating – but with a lot more scheduling conflicts and fewer first kisses.
Between the job, the kid, the house, the yard, and the puppy (don’t get me started on the puppy), I just don’t have the time or energy to start a new relationship. It’s not you. It’s me.
And, even if I did have the energy… where am I meeting these amazing new people?
The grocery store? The school pick-up line? The hardware store? No offense mulch lovers. I just don’t see me finding my next best friend in the lumber aisle.
THE MAGIC OF SMALL GROUP TRAVEL
First: someone else is in charge. As a lifelong control freak, I assumed this would bother me. Turns out… it’s pretty awesome. You don’t have to plan anything you don’t want to. You get to just show up – which, as it turns out, is great for your mental bandwidth and your ability to interact with other humans without short-circuiting.
Second: you already have something in common. You’re all standing in the same breathtaking place, experiencing the same amazing moment. The conversation basically creates itself. So even if your default small-talk setting is “polite nodding” (that’s me), you suddenly have an easy, natural connection. And yes, the occasional local wine or cocktail helps too.
Will you become best friends with everyone in the group? Probably not. But will you walk away with a few people you actually liked spending time with? Almost definitely. And when you’re in your 40s, that sort of feels like winning the lottery.
THE ROAM BY TAUCK EFFECT
These trips are intentionally small, intentionally social, and intentionally unstructured in all the right ways. There’s enough shared experience to spark connection – and enough free time to escape when things start to feel too people-y.
Hike alone in the morning.
Join a group for cocktails at lunch.
Relax in the spa in the evening.
Share a laugh over dinner.
It’s the kind of travel that builds connection without forcing it – the kind that lets strangers naturally transition into “keep in touch” friends. And maybe, if you’re lucky, it’s the kind that reminds you that making friends isn’t something you age out of. You just need the right environment. (Spoiler: It ain’t the hardware store.)
Everyone has a margarita story. Some involve spring break and questionable decisions. Others just a salted rim, a rooftop sunset, and a feeling that life is very much in your favor. And, good news, if you don’t have a margarita story yet… it’s really not that hard to make one that feels truly yours.
Because here’s the thing: margaritas aren’t just a cocktail. They’re a choose-your-own-adventure in a glass.
The Margarita Capital of the World
While yes, the margarita has gone global, Mexico is still its beating heart. In fact, Mexico City is home to the world’s best bar – Handshake Speakeasy – and has several other spots ranked among North America’s finest, according to Travel + Leisure. So, whether you’re sipping a mezcal margarita under the glow of modern mixology, or ducking into a casual cantina for a classic version with a plate of tacos, you’re not just drinking a cocktail – you’re tasting Mexico’s past and present in a glass.
THE FOUNDATION
Like all good things, the margarita starts simple…
2 oz agave tequila
1 oz Cointreau or triple sec
1 oz lime juice (freshly squeezed – it’s worth the effort)
Shake it with ice. Salt the rim. Pour. Sip. Chill.
This is the baseline. Think of it as “Mr. Brightside.” Always a hit, endlessly covered.
what’s your style?
Here’s where margaritas really flex their muscles: customization. The margarita’s genius is its balance of structure and freedom. It has an identity no matter what you do to it – and somehow, the more you tweak it, the more “you” it becomes.
THE SPIRIT Tequila blanco, reposado, añejo, or go smoky with mezcal. Each one tells a different story.
THE FLAVOR Mango, hibiscus, passionfruit, cucumber, jalapeño, coconut, pumpkin spice (if you must). If it grows, you can probably shake it into a margarita.
THE RIM Classic salt, spicy Tajín, hibiscus sugar, black lava salt. Seriously – what other drink makes you want to lick the glass like a margarita does?
THE STYLE On the rocks, frozen, skinny, Cadillac. (No judgment if you still drink out of that plastic yardstick from Cancun in 1998).
There you have it. The world’s most customizable cocktail, and the second-best way to escape the everyday – your way.
What About Those Frozen Slushies?
As with most cocktails, the margarita origin story is foggy at best – which feels fitting, honestly. What we do know is that margaritas became iconic in Mexico because of the ingredients: tequila made from native agave, limes that grow everywhere, and a culture that has always celebrated balance – sour, sweet, salty.
Fast forward north of the border and suddenly you’ve got neon-colored slushies pouring out of frozen machines. Fun? Yes. Authentic? Not at all. More of a remix, really. Catchy, but you still crave the original.
So, What’s All This Have to Do with Travel?
At Roam by Tauck, we believe the best journeys are like the best margaritas: a strong foundation, and then plenty of freedom to make it your own. We set the stage. You choose the flavors. Maybe it’s an afternoon rooftop cocktail. Maybe it’s a taco tour. Or maybe it’s just a quick detour down a tiled side street that becomes your favorite photo of the trip. Just like the drink, the magic is in the freedom to personalize.
The Final Sip
So, are margaritas in fact the world’s most customizable cocktail? We think so. But the better question might be: how do you take yours?
Salt or Tajín? Tequila or mezcal? On the rocks or frozen?
There are no wrong answers – only great stories.
And if you’re ready to make your next margarita memory in the place where it all began, check out our journey to Mexico City & San Miguel de Allende. We’ll bring the tequila.
