The Way We Move When We Travel

Travel as Movement

When we talk about travel, we often mean the destination. But what if we looked at the whole experience of travel as a form of movement? Not just the act of getting from point A to point B, but all the small movements and bodily shifts along the way. The walk to the subway with a backpack. The way the highway narrows, winds, or suddenly opens during a road trip. Waiting for your bag to come around the carousel. Do you take the easy taxi or figure out the clunky but charming bus into the city? Do you value ease or adventure? Is the goal to save money or time, or to feel something new in your body? The point is, all of these forms of travel create different movement and movement qualities.

Once you arrive, the movement diversity continues. You wander unfamiliar streets, climb stairs that aren’t built for your rhythm, swim in oceans that remind you how small you are. Or you sit still: a day in the spa, a nap on a sunny terrace, because for some, moving slowly is what travel is about. For others, it’s another trail to hike.

Moving Through Places, Moving Through Ourselves

And then there’s the movement we don’t always talk about: emotional movement. When you travel, your identity loosens its grip. You’re a stranger, a guest, maybe a little lost. The nervous system perks up. Are we more ourselves when no one knows us? Or do we disappear without the anchors of language, roles, and routine?

I tend to tune in and go with what the day brings. Recently I was in Lisbon, and instead of checking out a string of restaurants like I usually do, I stayed home with my friend and his flat-mate. We cooked, chatted, and sat in the ordinary glow of shared evenings. That felt like real connection. I didn’t need to chase the best meal or maximize the sight-seeing list. Something about just being there with them felt like the best way to be present in the city. We ended up getting food in the cafe in their building and it turned out to be a local spot artists inhabited for decades. Allowing my emotions to guide me, I ended up discovering something new right in front of me that I would have missed had I felt the need to check things off a list.

Paying attention to this kind of movement can be especially relevant for queer men. Many of us travel to escape, to find ourselves, or to be around people who understand us. Sometimes we go alone. Sometimes in groups. Both come with their own choreography.

Movement of Queer travel

I recently met Steve Morris from Outbound Adventures and asked him a couple questions. He’s building a space for queer travelers who want more than gay cruises and tour buses with a guy shouting into a mic.

When you’re designing travel suggestions for queer men, how do you think about movement—both physically and emotionally? (What makes a day feel meaningful, not just busy?)

Without sounding airy fairy, I always think in terms of vibe and flow, not a checklist, and a lot depends on who the trip is for which will dictate that. In terms of physically, it’s a case of balancing exertion and rest, for example; a hike in the morning, slow lunch in the sun, easy walk through a town, not constant rushing.

In terms of emotionally, I try to orchestrate moments that lend to emotional wellbeing, which could be a swim at dusk, a nice conversation with a local, or members within the group. I believe a day feels meaningful when it has contrast - active adventure paired with intimacy, discovery balanced with reflection.

Remember for queer travellers, safety and belonging underpin movement. We relax more deeply when we’re not second-guessing if we’ll be accepted, so we end up moving more freely in a physical and emotional sense.

Letting the day shape you

I lead retreats for small groups of gay/queer men in the Azores. I resonate with Steve's desire to provide depth and meaning during the week together. There’s a schedule, yes, but there’s no script. We’re listening to each other, with words and movements. We share stories as we slowly explore the land and our own interior at the same time. The body moves. The emotions move. And of course in the Azores, the weather is changing every 15 minutes, so it is a great practice in being agile mentally and realistically. For example, one time we incorporated a jungle picnic due to us needing to seek shelter from the rain in the forest. Sometimes I suggest we do a silent hike and then you notice our body language change.

I ask you to notice what moves you when you travel. Sometimes it’s a bus schedule or a restaurant opening time that reroutes your day. Sometimes it’s the smell of grilled fish or the way the light hits the side of a church or a large rock and you start to walk slower. Sometimes it’s unexpected weather or an unexpected conversation that changes the whole day's movement.

I find I can feel my inner compass more when I travel and am in a new place. It’s an invitation to listen. A new place invites choices—what to follow, what to let go of. You don’t have to plan everything. You can drift a little. Let the movement of the place meet the movement inside you. After all, that's why I call my practice Shaped by the Flow....

A lot of queer travel options rely on big group tours or party scenes. What do you think gets lost in that model—and what kinds of experiences are you trying to highlight instead?

My experience is that group tours often erase spontaneity because you’re herded, not choosing. I understand that going to a new place might feel daunting, or that people fear being lonely, so they opt for a group tour. However, when wake up times, every meal, every activity is scheduled for you, it gets rigid real quick and you lose that adventurous feeling, along with intimacy, connection to the destination, slow discovery, and space to shape your own rhythm.

Party-heavy itineraries can feel like the only option, but they flatten the richness of queer culture. Queer travel isn’t only about nightlife or mass Pride trips, there’s so much more; nature, history, food, moments of quiet beauty. And that’s not just my view. In a 2024 report by Vacationer, the trends show that queer travellers are looking for depth and meaningful escapes, not just Atlantis cruise ship parties.

What I highlight is small-scale adventures (hikes, road trips, wild swimming) in places that are welcoming and also have an active LGBTQ community. I ensure flexible days with free time built in, not back-to-back schedules. It’s not just about picking a destination, you can Google/AI that in seconds. What matters is the heartbeat of a place, the kind of insight you only get when it’s been lived in and vetted by real people. My role is to cut through the noise, leave space for genuine adventure, and help people come home with stories worth telling. [Subscribe for more]