After living in Minnesota, often referred to as the “tundra,” with its fleeting summers and painfully long, snowy, and icy winters, we made a quiet promise to ourselves when we began traveling the world. If possible, we would follow the sun. We had scraped enough windshields, navigated enough black ice, and endured enough subzero mornings to last a lifetime.

There have been a few notable exceptions. Our cruises to Alaska, Norway, and Antarctica stand out as breathtaking reminders that cold does not always equate to misery. In Alaska, we watched massive glaciers calve into the sea, their thunderous cracks echoing across icy waters. In Norway, we spotted glaciers and snowy caves. In Antarctica, we stood bundled in layers, speechless at the sight of penguins waddling across an endless white landscape that felt otherworldly and pure. Those experiences were not about enduring winter. They were about witnessing nature in its most dramatic and humbling form.

But recreational cold is very different from living in the cold.

Tom, especially, has earned his aversion to snow and bitter temperatures. After more than forty-two years working on the railroad, often in temperatures dipping to twenty below zero, he paid his dues. I can still picture him heading out the door before dawn, layered in heavy gear, bracing himself for another long shift in brutal conditions. For him, winter was not picturesque. It was relentless.

I have always felt a bit different. There is something magical about freshly fallen snow clinging to bare branches, transforming ordinary trees into sparkling sculptures. I loved those quiet winter mornings when the world seemed hushed and softened. There is a special comfort in being safely tucked indoors while snow falls steadily outside, a mug of coffee warming your hands, the furnace humming faithfully in the background. Winter, to me, held a certain coziness.

Still, when given the choice, sunshine wins.

As full-time travelers, we gravitate toward warm breezes, outdoor markets, ocean views, and the ease of stepping outside without multiple layers. We prefer flip flops to snow boots, light cotton dresses to thermal underwear. We have learned that chasing comfortable weather adds a gentle layer of joy to our nomadic lifestyle. It removes a barrier. It makes everyday living simpler.

And yet, we know we are in the minority for some travelers.

Many people, especially those who reside in tropical or consistently warm climates, dream of snow. They long for ski trips in the Alps, dog sledding adventures in Scandinavia, or cozy chalets tucked into the Canadian Rockies. For them, snow is exotic. It is exciting. It is an adventure waiting to unfold. There is undeniable beauty in watching skiers carve fresh tracks down a mountainside or families laughing together as they build snowmen.

What prompted this reflection was an article I stumbled upon in Travel + Leisure this morning. Five travel experts shared their favorite snowy destinations around the world, each describing places where winter becomes a playground rather than a hardship. Reading their perspectives reminded me how deeply personal our travel preferences are, shaped by where we have been and what we have experienced.

For us, the sun is more appealing than the snow. But I understand the allure. Perhaps that is the beauty of travel. There is no single perfect climate or ideal destination. There is only what feels right for you, in this season of your life.

And for now, we are happily following the warmth.

Here’s the article from Travel+ Leisure online magazine:

“We Asked 5 Travel Experts Their Favorite Winter Wonderland Destinations—and They All Said the Same Thing

From reindeer sleigh rides to the Northern Lights, this destination delivers the perfect winter escape. By Stacey Leasca