Sabbatical Rest – Learning to Rest While Wandering

Written by Joni Roberts

Traveler, storyteller, and public health advocate

When I travel, I rarely rest. At least not in the way most people describe when they say they’re “on vacation.” Maybe because my trips aren’t vacations—they’re expeditions.

When my sabbatical came around, I decided to try something different: intentional rest.

It started in Indonesia, where I went to celebrate my 40th birthday. I picked a random island in the Gilis before heading into the chaos of Bali. I didn’t know it at the time, but what I was choosing was rest. Slower pace of life. No cars—just bicycles, donkeys, and the ocean. For the first time in my travels, I didn’t rent a car. I didn’t try to conquer the place. I just stayed. Watched sunrises. Watched sunsets. Exhaled.

That shift carried into my sabbatical in Greece. While I still worked in my own way, it was a rest from my traditional work—and I wanted to hold onto that Gili island pace. So I did something new: I booked luxury hotels (I’m usually an Airbnb girl) and swapped driving for private cars or taxis.

And then I did something even more radical. I got massages. Daily. Out of a 14-day trip, I had 10 massages.

Why? A few reasons:

• Because I work hard and rarely treat myself.

• Because my default travel mode is “maximize time,” not “maximize rest.”

• Because sometimes rest means intentionally saying no to the cheap, practical option (like public transport) and saying yes to indulgence.

At first, I agonized over spending the money. But then I reminded myself: I deserved to be spoiled.

This shift also revealed something about my travel identity. Normally, I measure “authenticity” by how much I do things “like a local”—buses, rentals, budget stays. But sometimes, authenticity is about leaning into what you need most in that season of life. For me, during sabbatical, that meant entering what I jokingly called my soft girl era.

So yes, I traded buses for chauffeurs, schedules for sunsets, and spent more money on massages in two weeks than I had in years. And it was worth every moment. Because this time, my wanderlust wasn’t about conquering the world. It was about resting in it.

Thus concludes today’s observation. Rest, too, is part of the journey. Subscribe for weekly Field Notes: small stories, big wanderlust.