I was on a walkway on the Brazilian side of Iguazú Falls, completely soaked, walking back as fast as I could and refusing to stop or look at anything. I’m pretty sure I was saying, possibly out loud, “this is crazy.”

I love waterfalls, and that was the whole reason I was there. My raincoat was sitting on the bus, the mist was cold, the water was roaring, and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

For a long time, I would have wanted a better reason than that before I booked the day. I would have wanted the trip to be restorative, educational, useful, efficient, or easy to explain.

What if loving something is already a reason?

In this episode:

• Getting soaked at Iguazú Falls
• The raincoat on the bus
• Doing both sides anyway
• Delight as real information
• The small things around the big thing
• Choosing the less sensible version

“Loving something is already a reason.” (Damianne)

What if delight is enough?

I talk a lot about intentional travel, and I believe in it. I believe in knowing why you’re going, in noticing what you want a trip to give you, and in designing around the real person who is taking it, the person you are right then.

And sometimes the intention is delight.

That can feel suspiciously flimsy if you’re used to justifying what you want. I know how quickly I can attach my desires to acceptable reasons. The trip is allowed if it helps me recover from burnout, teaches me something, makes sense for work, or connects to somebody else’s need.

That Saturday at Iguazú Falls wasn’t practice for anything. I booked the longer, harder version of the day weeks ahead of time, with two sides of the falls, two border crossings, six kilometres of walking, and one very wet return along a walkway in Brazil.

There was no reason for it except that I love waterfalls.

What did the day ask of me?

We started on the Argentinian side. There were signs warning us about wild animals, including tapirs and jaguars, and there were coatis everywhere, including one that went straight for my crossbody bag because it smelled the cake inside. I took too many photos and kept stopping, and more than once I was the last person to rejoin the group because I was enraptured by the view.

The Brazilian side was easier in distance and wilder in feeling. A walkway takes you under the falls, and on the way out I stopped every few metres, sometimes to let people take photos and sometimes because the whole thing was ridiculous and beautiful. On the way back I didn’t stop once. I was drenched and cold, and the wind coming off the water made me shiver.

I kept thinking, this is crazy, and I meant crazy good, incredible and memorable, so much that I had to say something.

What else belongs in the memory?

The days around the falls were full of smaller wants too. We went to the Three Frontiers point, walked downtown, wandered through Plaza San Martín, and I had dulce de leche ice cream with coconut. I had a massage and got my eyebrows shaped, I ate more barbecue than I needed, and I spent more time than expected trying to find fried manioc sticks. None of that is impressive, and nobody needs a podcast episode about my eyebrows in Puerto Iguazú.

But those details sit in the memory alongside the falls because they were all things I wanted. When I talk about following the feeling, not the feed, this is exactly what I mean. The big thing and the small thing can come from the same place in you.

You don’t need every desire to be cinematic before it counts.

What are you doing the sensible version of?

Most of us get very good at choosing the defensible version, like one side of the falls instead of both, the shorter day, the cheaper option, or whatever makes more sense when you explain it to someone else. Sometimes the sensible version is right, and I’m not arguing for reckless travel or for spending money you don’t have. I’m asking whether you’ve started treating sensible as the only respectable way to want something.

This is where delight helps, because delight is information. It tells you what lights you up before you turn it into an argument, and it might point to a waterfall, a city, an afternoon tea, a long lunch, a slow morning, or a room where you can look out and feel your body soften.

I think this is part of the 40+ solo travel advantage. By now, you know more than you used to about what genuinely delights you, and the work is to let that knowledge matter.

Your invitation for this week

Pick one thing that has no justification except that you love it. Write it down as a plan instead of a maybe. It doesn’t have to be the thing that makes the trip worthwhile or the responsible reason for going. Pick the thing you’d do twice.

Then notice where you start making it smaller.

Join community

If any part of this is familiar, an assumption you haven’t checked or a plan you’re still running on habit rather than evidence, come and work through it with us in the community. It’s where I keep practising this too, alongside other women figuring out their own version of it.

The community on Skool is a supportive space where you can build momentum, get clarity and start choosing yourself again.