The World, as I First Remember It

By the founder

I grew up in airports.
That’s where I learned to wait, to watch, to wonder. The smell of coffee mixing with jet fuel, the soft crackle of announcements, people hugging too long or too briefly, that was the rhythm of my childhood. I didn’t know it then, but it was shaping the way I saw the world.

My father used to tell me that being rich has nothing to do with money. He said, “You’re rich the moment you start seeing the world.”
And I think that’s what stayed with me most : that living is something you do through perspective, not possession.

As a child, I was lucky. I saw the world before I could understand it.
I remember the chill of early mornings in Vienna, the smell of rain on cobblestones in Prague, and the kind of silence you only hear when snow falls in Switzerland. In Italy, I learned warmth, the loudness of joy, the way people talk with their hands. Egypt taught me awe, the kind that stays with you when you stand somewhere ancient and realize time moves differently there.

I’ve been fortunate to travel often be it across Europe, through the US, back again. Sometimes for family, sometimes just because that’s what we did — we moved, explored, discovered. And every time, it felt like I came home with a slightly different version of myself.

Travel has never just been about seeing places for me. It’s about understanding them. About noticing the small things like the way people greet each other, how light changes in the afternoon, how kindness looks the same no matter where you are.

That’s what I wanted to capture when I created Special Interest Travel.
Not the rush of crossing another destination off a list, but the quiet satisfaction of connecting to a culture, to a person, to a moment that changes something in you.

Because I’ve realized something after all these years of moving through airports and cities: travel isn’t about escape. It’s about returning to curiosity, to gratitude, to that sense of wonder we lose in the noise of everyday life.

And that’s what I want people to feel when they travel with us.
Not luxury in the material sense, but luxury in meaning. The kind that fills you quietly, deeply, and stays long after the suitcase is unpacked.