Teshima Art Museum, Japan
You can: The biophilic design
A drop of rain. This is the inspiration—simple and pure, escapist and soul-soothing—behind the Teshima Art Museum in Japan. The name is misleading; forget about toilet queues and paintings. Instead, it is a spatial expression that is ultra-minimalist and resembles a droplet. The concrete structure sits on a hillside at Teshima, a fishing island with a unique art scene. The journey begins as you walk down a simple walkway, with trees and rice fields in jewel green on one side. It is then revealed: no corners, only curves. A biophilic design in its purest form. The atmosphere changes as you enter the temple. Two imperfectly circular openings bring in the sky, light, breezes and insects. You are drawn to the floor, where hypnotically moving patterns of gem-like water drops flow in an ever-changing pattern. Spending time here—sitting, cloud-gazing, thinking, life-planning, writing (only in pencil)—is as soothing as sinking into a warm bath. This is emptiness but it’s the kind of emptiness that inspires possibilities rather than a feeling of lack. —Danielle Demetriou
Tristan da Cunha
You can: Solo hikes on the remotest inhabited island
Tristan da Cunha is located approximately halfway between South America South Atlantic sailing for a week. Lindblad Expeditions is the answer to my frustration with everyday chaos. National Geographic Explorer I’m in Ushuaia (Argentina) to find the most remote inhabited islands. Population? Around 230. Cell service or Wi-Fi? There is no smell. Pure bliss. On a solo trek between the potato fields and the main settlement of Edinburgh, the Seven Seas on the Isle, I rest my feet on an old bench. It might not be silent—the wind whistles in my ears, carrying with it the gentle clucks of chickens and deep lowing of cows—but, for once, my mind is quiet. The ocean is a barrier that separates me and the rest of my world. —Stefanie Waldek
Truth or Consequences New Mexico
You can: a peak into space–with hot springs, desert sunrises, and windy sand dunes
In August, I visited Spaceport America. Virgin Galactic’s first commercial spaceflight—a portal to the cosmos set (purposely) in the middle of nowhere. This portal to space rises out of the New Mexico desert Just beyond the town Truth or Consequences is a destination whose name was changed to promote a 1950s game show. The Organ Mountains stood out against a pale sky in the dark drive up to the rocket launch at dawn. The curved glass of the spaceport reflected a bright early morning light. I felt it tickle my face. My nearby base. Hotel Encanto de Las Cruces, water rushed everywhere—cascading from tall fountains in the lobby and trickling poolside, mimicking the region’s Hot Springs Bathhouse District. After a long journey of an hour, I reached the vast, white ocean of the world. White Sands National ParkI walked against the wind, barefoot, to a clearing that was scattered with dried grasses bristling. When it stopped, I could hear a black beetle’s tiny feet scurrying past me. —Jessica Chapel
Turtle Mountain Provincial Park, Manitoba
Take a look atA musical performance that is unique
I define quiet As less of an absence of sound as an opportunity for nature’s music to be heard. The deep forest is a place of silence. Manitoba‘s Turtle Mountain Provincial Park, I found my concert hall of choice—72 square miles in proportion, seating occupancy untested. As I approach, the instruments are already tuned: A squirrel in a nearby tree chitters away as I hike along a trail. My footfall is the key to this wildwood symphony. A woodpecker makes a frenetic, brief cacophony by knocking a hollow branch. A heron’s wings are sighing with the grace of a harp as something plunks into an pond. Birdsong is introduced, featuring two delicate soloists who battle with arpeggios. The crescendo is to release the birds, then they fly off, and all of it descends, down, downwards, to a smallest pianissimo. The next movement has me enthralled. —J.R. Patterson
Valle del Silencio, Castilla y León, Spain
You can: Reflection on ancient paths
The Valle del Silencio is a valley of silence, nestled deep within the mountains of central Spain. SpainMontes Aquilianos was a place where time seemed to have slowed. There was only the rustling sound of the wind in the ancient oak and chestnut trees, the murmur of the hidden stream and the call of the blackbird. The paths that hermits walked centuries ago still exist today, winding their way through misty forests, ancient chapels and villages. I sat in a mossy rock, breathing the crisp air filled with damp earth and wild rosemary. The silence was profound—not empty, but full, like a presence watching over the valley. As the sun began to sink behind the mountains, golden light illuminated the rugged cliffs and deepened the shadows. In that hushed sanctuary, I realized that silence was not the absence of noise but a dialogue with the land itself—a conversation that lingered long after I left. —María Casbas
