The Travel Reset Button
How Slowing Down Recharges More Than Just Your Batteries
Some days it takes me three cups of coffee just to remember my own password. That’s when I know I need a reset. And no, I don’t mean a nap I mean the kind of reset you only get when you’re in a place so different that even your taste buds are confused. Like the time I ate breakfast pho in Vietnam and realised cereal had been lying to me my whole life.
Travel, for me, isn’t just about seeing new places. It’s about pressing pause on the hamster wheel of everyday life and starting again with fresh eyes. It’s the big red reset button we don’t know we need until we’ve been running on autopilot for too long.
Why We All Need a Reset
Life at home has a way of turning into Groundhog Day. The same roads, the same shops, the same people complaining about the weather. In Perth, I could almost drive to Coles on autopilot, pick up my groceries, and have a good grumble about the price of avocados without even realising the week had disappeared.
Our brains get bored they crave novelty. That’s why travel feels so good. It shakes the snow globe of your routine. Suddenly, every sense is switched on again.
Here in Da Nang, my reset often starts before breakfast. I’ll step outside and the smell of fresh bánh mì, charcoal smoke, and thick Vietnamese coffee swirls through the air. By the time I walk down to My Khe Beach, the locals are already halfway through their day and its only 5am. Old men flex their muscles in the sand, women in conical hats sell fruit from baskets, kids splash in the surf, and a group of pensioners might be playing badminton with more energy than I could muster at 25. That kind of energy jolts me awake faster than any alarm clock ever did in Perth.
Little Shifts, Big Impact
The magic of travel isn’t just in the big-ticket moments like temples or waterfalls. It’s in the little shifts that quietly reset how you see the world.
- Perspective reset – Back home, bills and deadlines can feel enormous. But standing under the thousand-year-old banyan tree on the Son Tra Peninsula makes my worries feel laughably small. That tree has survived storms, wars, and centuries. My electricity bill suddenly doesn’t seem worth losing sleep over.
- Routine reset – Breakfast no longer means Vegemite toast. These days it’s bowls of noodles, dumplings, or sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves. At first, it felt strange. Now my taste buds have staged a coup they’re refusing to go back.
- Connection reset – There’s something about perching on a plastic stool at a street stall, clinking iced tea glasses with strangers, that makes you feel human again. You don’t need the same language to share food, smiles, and laughter.
Sometimes, it’s not even the food or scenery that resets you it’s the conversations. A chance chat with a fisherman on the Muay Thai beach that reminded me how little we need to feel content. He pointed at the ocean and said: Every day new. Ocean never same. I couldn’t argue with that.
The Unexpected Reset Moments
The best resets are rarely the ones you plan. They’re the ones that sneak up on you.
Take Hoi An, for example. One day we set off on scooters to explore the rice paddies. A wrong turn later, we were deep in a backstreet neighbourhood. A tiny café owner waved us in, and before long we were sipping iced coffee so strong it could have powered a small city. No guidebook. No reviews. Just one of those perfect travel accidents.
Or the day we explored Son Tra Peninsula, thinking we’d just see the Lady Buddha. Instead, we found ourselves weaving up mountain roads to Ban Co Peak, stumbling across the old US radar station, and standing in awe under that thousand-year-old banyan tree. Hours later, we were splashing around at a hidden beach with barely another soul in sight. That whole day was one giant reset, reminding me that wandering without a checklist often brings the best rewards.
And then there are the storms. In Bali, I once spent an entire afternoon trapped under a plastic tarp with a group of locals as the rain came down in sheets. We shared fried bananas, swapped stories in three different languages, and laughed at our soggy clothes. Back home, rain would’ve ruined my day. In Bali, it became one of my fondest memories.
Japan gave me another reset. I missed a train and found myself wandering into a neighbourhood izakaya I never would’ve entered otherwise. The food was cheap, the gyoza unforgettable, and the owner insisted I try sake with him. Missing that train turned into one of the most memorable nights of the trip.
The moral Sometimes the reset comes not from sunshine or perfect plans, but from missed trains, wrong turns, and rainstorms.
Long-Term Resets: Three Years on the Road
After almost three years of travelling through Vietnam, Cambodia, Bali, Thailand, and Japan, I’ve realised that travel isn’t a one-time reset. It’s a series of small, ongoing resets that reshape you little by little.
Living in Da Nang, the resets don’t stop just because it’s home base. Shops and restaurants come and go without warning. There’s always a new café to try (yes, including the one with the giant inflatable rabbit), a new market stall selling some mysterious snack, or a new beachside spot that feels like my own secret hideaway. Every week is a chance to shake the routine snow globe again.
Slow travel especially has taught me to reset the way I see time. Instead of cramming experiences into a two-week holiday, I’ve learnt to linger. To revisit the same street at different times of day. To notice how the light changes on Hoi An’s lanterns at dusk, or how the same beach feels different at sunrise versus sunset. That slowness is its own kind of reset.
Reset Without Leaving Home
I get it you can’t always pack your bags and fly off. But resets don’t have to involve passports and airports.
Between Two Worlds
My trips back to Australia are always busy sometimes too busy. The moment I land, it feels like stepping into a different rhythm. There are hugs to catch up on, stories to swap, and endless cups of tea shared over how have you been conversations with true friends that never quite feel long enough.
Then come the appointments meetings with doctors, banks, lawyers, and everyone else involved in caring for my 93-year-old father. It’s a responsibility I’m deeply grateful for, but it can also be overwhelming. The juggling act between love, duty, and logistics is real.
And somewhere in between all that, there’s work. Emails don’t stop just because you’ve crossed time zones. There are projects waiting, people to meet, and commitments that pull me in every direction.
By the time I pause to take a breath, the days have blurred together a tangle of family, friendship, responsibility, and routine. I often find myself torn between two worlds: one that shaped me, and one that now feels like home somewhere else.
But even in the whirlwind, there’s something grounding about returning to a reminder of roots, resilience, and the people who still call me love the way only Aussies can.
Even at home, resets don’t always need to be grand. Sometimes it’s as simple as switching off your phone for a day (yes, terrifying, I know) or doing something completely out of your comfort zone like trying something you can’t even pronounce or exploring a corner of your own city you’ve never noticed before.
You don’t always need a plane ticket just curiosity.
Cruising: The Ultimate Reset
One of the most underrated reset buttons, for me, is cruising. There’s something about waking up each morning with a new horizon outside your window, without having to drag luggage through airports, that feels like pure magic. You get comfort and discovery all in one.
When I attended enrichment lectures aboard the Celebrity Solstice, I saw it in the passengers too. People arrived stressed from work or family, but by day three they had a different sparkle in their eyes. Cruising forced them to stop, breathe, and let the rhythm of the ocean reset them.
Closing Thought
The best part about travel isn’t the photos or the souvenirs. It’s that quiet, powerful shift inside you the reset. Suddenly the world feels lighter, your worries shrink, and you remember what it means to be truly alive.
After three years of slow travel, I’ve realised that a reset doesn’t always come from a new destination. Sometimes it’s simply stepping out of routine saying no when you usually say yes, taking a different path, or giving yourself permission to stop for a while.
The real reset isn’t about where you go, but how you choose to pause, reflect, and realign. Whether it’s on a mountain, in your backyard, or in the middle of a messy week it’s those small moments of stillness that bring you back to yourself.
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About the Author:
Sheridan-Leigh is the passionate voice behind the MyLifestyle Blog, where life is celebrated with vibrant stories and insightful travel tips. With a deep love for slow travel, she believes in truly experiencing each destination, creating connections beyond the surface. Her blog is a blend of personal stories, expert advice, and a philosophy that life is for living to the fullest and is rich with opportunities for growth and adventure. Join Sheridan-Leigh as she shares her journey, inspiring others to embrace life, travel deeply, and live fully.
Below are some recent travels on an interactive map.
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See her recent travels: Click on the image. https://mylifestyle.travelmap.net
