The Aztec Gods: A Who’s Who of the Mexica Cosmos

From Quetzalcoatl the Feathered Serpent to the bloodthirsty Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec pantheon was vast, violent and surprisingly flexible. Plus, learn how the Flower Wars provided (semi) willing fodder for human sacrifices. 

The Mexica treated war as an opportunity for cultural accumulation, much like the Mongols did a few centuries earlier. Every conquest came with new foods, new customs, new technology and, often, new deities. If another city had a rain god who seemed to get better results, the Mesoamerican people didn’t see worshipping him as blasphemy — they saw it as smart.

“In many defeated nations we discovered new gods or novel manifestations of our known gods, and, if they appealed to us, our armies brought home copies of their statues for us to set in our own temples,” Gary Jennings writes in his 1980 novel Aztec. 

“Every ritual — whether it involved flowers, animals or human hearts — was a way to keep the cosmic machinery running.

Blood was the power source of the sun. To let that flow stop would be like unplugging the universe.”

It’s a tradition that goes back to at least Ancient Rome. Why destroy another civilization’s gods when you can just add them to your own pantheon? 

The Spanish, of course, were appalled (never mind how many Catholic beliefs originated in so-called pagan celebrations like Yule). They arrived preaching one true God — and promptly rolled out the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost, the Virgin Mary, angels, apostles and a saint for every stubbed toe and lost key. 

“I have heard you Christians complain of our ‘multitudes’ of gods and goddesses,” Jennings writes later, before his narrator adds, “I have counted and compared. I do not believe that we relied on so many major and minor deities as you do — the Lord God, the Son Jesus, the Holy Ghost, the Virgin Mary — plus all those other Higher Beings you call Angels and Apostles and Saints, each of them the governing patron of some single facet of your world, your lives, your tónaltin [fate], even every single day in the calendar. In truth, I believe we recognized fewer deities, but we charged each of ours with more diverse functions.”

What a dig! While Europeans obsessed over keeping heaven in order, the Mexica embraced divine chaos — a spiritual ecosystem where gods could merge, borrow faces and change form as easily as the world itself.

The Aztec Gods, A to Z 

(Well, Actually C to X)

Aztec mythology wasn’t built on tidy hierarchies. It instead embraced glorious contradiction — gods who could be both creators and destroyers, lovers and warriors, rainmakers and flood-bringers. To keep things simple (or at least alphabetized), here’s a guide to the divine cast that kept the sun burning, the corn growing, and the sacrifices right on schedule.

Centeotl

“God of Maize”

Pronunciation: Sen-teh-o-tull

Domain: Corn, sustenance, harvest

Vibe: The dependable one — always shows up for dinner

Story: Centeotl was the golden core of Aztec life, the maize god whose body quite literally fed the people. According to the Florentine Codex, Quetzalcoatl tore open the earth to bring corn to humankind, and from that soil Centeotl sprouted — divine, delicious and essential.

Chalchiuhtlicue

“She of the Jade Skirt”

Pronunciation: Chal-chee-oot-lee-kweh

Domain: Rivers, lakes, seas, childbirth

Vibe: The goddess of good water and bad  wmoods

Story: Chalchiuhtlicue ruled over every flowing thing — from gentle rivers to catastrophic floods. One myth says she once loved humanity so much she wept for them, and her tears flooded the world. The survivors, naturally, turned into fish. 

Coatlicue

“She of the Serpent Skirt”

Pronunciation: Ko-aht-lee-kweh

Domain: Earth, life and death, motherhood

Vibe: The cosmic mom you do not want to disappoint

Story: Coatlicue was the ultimate Earth mother — nurturing yet terrifying. She wore a skirt of snakes and a necklace of severed hands and hearts (sharing a fashion sense with the Hindu goddess Kali). When her daughter Coyolxauhqui and 400 sons plotted to kill her, they struck off her head — but from the gushing wound sprang two serpents whose fanged mouths met to form her new face. And Coatlicue’s unborn child Huitzilopochtli burst forth from her womb, fully armed, and ended that rebellion fast. 

Coyolxauhqui

“Bells on Her Cheeks”

Pronunciation: Koy-ol-shau-kee

Domain: The moon

Vibe: The rebel who lost, but still owns the night 

Story: Coyolxauhqui led her siblings in a failed coup against their mother, Coatlicue, only to be dismembered by her newborn brother, Huitzilopochtli — a mythic explanation for the moon’s fragmented phases.

Ehécatl

“He Who Is the Wind”

Pronunciation: Eh-heh-katull 

Domain: Wind, breath, motion, life

Vibe: The chill cousin who shows up, stirs things up and vanishes again

Story: Ehécatl is the wind god — a breezy form of Quetzalcoatl himself. When the newly created sun refused to move, Ehécatl blew across the heavens to push it into motion. His temples were round so the wind could pass through, a clever architectural touch in a city built on geometry. The man was literally the breath of life — and sometimes, the breath of fresh air everyone needed.

Huitzilopochtli

“Left-Handed Hummingbird” or “Hummingbird of the South”

Pronunciation: Weets-ee-loh-pohch-tuhlee

Domain: War, the sun, the destiny of the Mexica

Vibe: The overachiever with a bloody habit

Story: Huitzilopochtli was the Mexica’s personal war god and the reason they believed themselves unstoppable. Born in a blaze of feathers and fury, he beheaded his sister Coyolxauhqui moments after his birth and tossed her body down the mountainside — symbolizing the sun’s daily triumph over the moon. He needed blood to keep shining, and the Aztecs were more than happy to supply it.

Ilamatecuhtli

“The Old Lady”

Pronunciation: Ee-lah-mah-teh-koo-tlee

Domain: Age, endings, childbirth, dry corn, the turning of the year

Vibe: The venerable (and sometimes scary) grandmother

Story: Ilamatecuhtli was the Earth Mother in her oldest form — not nurturing like Teteoinnan, not frantic like Coatlicue, but ancient, heavy and utterly unavoidable. She ruled the cold, solemn month of Tititl, when people fasted, moved quietly, and lived in fear, as though Death herself was walking past their doors.

Women who died in childbirth were honored as fierce, restless spirits called the cihuateteo during this season, their cries believed to haunt crossroads at night. They belonged to Ilamatecuhtli, who understood both the agony of labor and the final stillness of death. She was the end of the cycle, the crack in the seed before it sprouts again, the winter before the earth remembers how to bloom. 

Itztlacoliuhqui

“Curved Obsidian Blade”

Pronunciation: Eets-koh-lee-oo-kee

Domain: Cold, punishment, winter, misfortune

Vibe: The burnt-out star who pissed off the wrong person 

Story: Itztlacoliuhqui is literally the embodiment of bad vibes. But he wasn’t always this way. He used to be a radiant god of light, the Lord of the Dawn, Venus as Morning Star, until he either insulted the sun, Tonatiuh, or accidentally loosed an arrow at him. The sun’s response was instant: a burst of searing fire. The blow broke his nose, warped his face into a permanent curve, and transformed him into the frigid, shadowy deity of winter. He’s often shown blindfolded or bent, carrying a staff like a frozen wanderer. He represents the moment when light collapses into darkness — and the consequences of making mortal enemies.

Mayahuel

“Goddess of the Agave”

Pronunciation: My-yah-well

Domain: Agave, pulque, nourishment, fertility

Vibe: The star-crossed lover

Story: Mayahuel is the spirit of the agave plant — the source of food, fiber, healing sap and the sacred drink pulque. Her family practices an extreme form of helicopter parenting: They’re star demons who’ve forbidden Mayahuel to leave the heavens. But Quetzalcoatl falls for her and the two hide by merging into a forked tree. When the goddess’ family finds them, they tear Mayahuel apart, scattering her pieces across the soil. Where they land, the maguey grows — resilient, sharp-edged and impossible to uproot.

Because the plant came from her body, every harvest was an act of reverence. The sap that fermented into pulque belonged to her. Agave and pulque folklore shows how deeply the plant shaped everything from spirituality to social rituals in Mesoamerica.

Mictecacihuatl

“Lady of the Dead”

Pronunciation: Meek-teh-kah-see-wah-tull

Domain: Death, the underworld, ancestors, bones

Vibe: The goth aunt who keeps every receipt — and by receipts, we mean bones

Story: She rules the underworld with quiet authority — no drama, no shouting, just a stare that sees straight through flesh to your skeleton. She and her husband, Mictlantecuhtli, oversee Mictlan, the final destination for most souls. Festivals in her honor later blended with Catholic All Souls’ celebrations and evolved into Día de los Muertos — meaning she’s the spiritual grandmother of the holiday that remembers the dead with candles, food and marigolds.

Mictlantecuhtli

“Lord of the Underworld”

Pronunciation: Meek-tuhlahn-teh-koot-lee

Domain: Death, the afterlife

Vibe: Surprisingly chill about mortality

Story: Mictlantecuhtli ruled Mictlan, the nine-layered underworld where most souls went after death — more for bureaucracy vs. punishment. The journey took four years, with challenges like mountains that crashed together and rivers of blood. When Quetzalcoatl came to borrow bones to make humanity, Mictlantecuhtli agreed — and then tried to trip him on the way out. 

Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl

“Our Lord and Lady of Duality”

Pronunciation: Oh-meh-teh-koot-lee / Oh-meh-see-wah-tuhl

Domain: Creation, balance, masculine and feminine forces 

Vibe: The original power couple. Divine yin and yang — a sort of Adam and Eve for the Mexica.

Story: Before there was sun, moon or time itself, there was Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl. Living in the highest heaven, they embodied the balance of existence. Together, they created the four great gods (Quetzalcoatl, Tezcatlipoca, Tlaloc and Xipe Totec), setting the cosmic wheels in motion. Creation wasn’t a solo act; it was a duet.

Quetzalcoatl

“Feathered Serpent”

Pronunciation: Ket-sahl-koh-ah-tuhl

Domain: Wind, knowledge, art, life, creation

Vibe: The philosopher who tried to make everyone chill

Story: Quetzalcoatl was the thoughtful one — a feathered serpent who preferred wisdom to warfare. He gave humans knowledge, maize and calendars, which is more than most gods manage before breakfast. Trickster rival Tezcatlipoca once got him drunk and shamed him into exile; some legends say he sailed east, promising to return. When the Spanish landed, later chroniclers swore the Mexica mistook Cortés for him. 

Teteoinnan

“Mother of the Gods”

Pronunciation: Teh-teh-oh-ee-nahn

Domain: Fertility, death, renewal

Vibe: Brutal, maternal, unstoppable

Story: Teteoinnan was the primordial Earth Mother — the one who birthed the gods and demanded blood to keep creation fertile. During the festival of Ochpaniztli, “the Sweeping,” a woman chosen to represent her was pampered for days, then shot to death by arrows. Her skin was flayed and worn by a priest, symbolizing the earth shedding its old season so a new one could grow. Teteoinnan was life itself: the womb and the tomb, the soil that feeds and devours.

Tezcatlipoca

“Smoking Mirror”

Pronunciation: Tes-kaht-lee-poh-kah

Domain: Night, chaos, destiny, trickery

Vibe: The original frenemy — chaos with cheekbones

Story: Tezcatlipoca was Quetzalcoatl’s equal and opposite — the shadow to his light. With his obsidian mirror, he could see into hearts and futures, which made him the ultimate gossip. One myth has him turning into a jaguar to destroy the world, just to prove a point. The Aztecs loved him for it; he reminded them that fate has teeth.

Tlaloc

“He Who Makes Things Sprout” (possibly)

Pronunciation: Tuhlah-lok

Domain: Rain, storms, fertility

Vibe: The moody meteorologist

Story: Tlaloc could bless or drown with equal enthusiasm. Farmers adored him; everyone else kept a respectful distance. Children were sometimes sacrificed in his honor, their tears believed to bring rain. Archaeologists have found offerings of tiny skeletons near his temple, a haunting reminder that the weather is often a matter of life and death.

Tlazolteotl

“Goddess of Filth”

Pronunciation: Tuhlah-zohl-teh-o-tuhl

Domain: Sin, purification, lust, confession

Vibe: The confessor — sharp-tongued, forgiving and uncomfortably honest

Story: Tlazolteotl was the goddess of both sin and cleansing. People confessed their moral missteps to her once in their lifetime, and she “ate” their spiritual filth, leaving them pure again. Basically the Aztec equivalent of Jesus Christ taking away the sins of the world — only with black face paint, dirty rags and rotten food.

Tonatiuh

“The Radiant One”

Pronunciation: Toh-nah-tee-uh

Domain: The sun (the current one — there were four before him)

Vibe: The jock who knows the world literally revolves around him

Story: Tonatiuh is the fifth sun — the version we live under now. The Aztecs believed the universe had been destroyed and reborn four times already, and keeping Tonatiuh burning required constant human sacrifice. If the flow of hearts stopped, so would the sun. No pressure, humanity.

Xipe Totec

“Our Lord, the Flayed One”

Pronunciation: Shee-peh Toh-tek

Domain: Renewal, spring, agriculture, goldsmiths

Vibe: Horrifying but optimistic

Story: Xipe Totec wore human skin to symbolize the shedding of the old and the rebirth of the new. Each spring, priests honored him by donning the flayed skin of sacrificial victims until it decayed — a vivid, if disturbing, metaphor for renewal. He was terrifying, but also proof that life always grows back.

Xiuhtecuhtli

“Turquoise Lord”

Pronunciation: Shee-ooh-teh-koot-lee

Domain: Fire, time, renewal

Vibe: The spark that keeps the universe’s pilot light on

Story: Xiuhtecuhtli rules over fire and time — the heart of every hearth and the flame that ties life together. Every 52 years, the Aztecs extinguished all the blazes in the empire for the New Fire Ceremony, then rekindled it atop a sacrificial victim’s chest to reboot the cosmic clock. A bit extreme, but supposedly effective.

Xochipilli

“Flower Prince”

Pronunciation: Soh-chee-pee-lee

Domain: Pleasure, art, dance, song and sacred intoxication

Vibe: The good time guy — who’s always got the good stuff

Story: Xochipilli ruled over music, poetry and hallucinogenic ecstasy. His statues show him in blissful trance, covered in carvings of psychoactive plants like morning glory and mushrooms. Scholars debate whether he’s communing with fellow gods or just having an incredible trip. Either way, he’s the patron of joy.

Xochiquetzal

“Precious Flower”

Pronunciation: Soh-chee-ket-sahl

Domain: Love, beauty, fertility, female sexuality, arts

Vibe: The divine muse with petals and power

Story: Xochiquetzal ruled over everything pleasurable: love, sex, beauty, art and weaving (opinions differ on how fun that last one is). She was beauty incarnate, the kind people write terrible poetry about. Naturally, this led to drama: At one point Tezcatlipoca abducted her, proving that even gods make bad romantic decisions. Worshiped by artists and universally adored, she was the eternal muse — always in bloom.

Aztec Offerings: Blood and Blossoms

For the Mexica, the gods needed constant nourishment to keep creation from falling apart. In a universe born from divine sacrifice, the only fitting offering was more of the same.

The Florentine Codex, compiled by Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún and his Nahua collaborators between 1540 and 1577, is a 12-book encyclopedic record of Aztec culture, language and religion created to document and ultimately aid in converting indigenous peoples after the Spanish conquest.

According to the codex, every ritual — whether it involved flowers, animals or human hearts — was a repayment, a way to keep the cosmic machinery running. Blood was the power source of the sun. The gods had given their own essence to ignite the world. To let that flow stop would be like unplugging the universe.

The Flower Wars (Xochiyaoyotl)

The Aztecs even had a word for the ultimate warrior’s death: xōchimiquiztli, the “flowery death.” Dying in battle or on the sacrificial stone wasn’t seen as tragedy but transcendence. To fall for Huitzilopochtli or Tonatiuh was to bloom forever in the sky, your soul reborn as a hummingbird or butterfly chasing the rising sun.

And the gods demanded a lot of blood. So the indigenous peoples of Mesoamerica came up with an interesting proposal: battles not for conquest but purely to feed the gods. These ritualized clashes between city-states — most famously Tenochtitlan and Tlaxcala — were called the Flower Wars. The goal wasn’t land or wealth; it was captives.

The Mexica believed these chosen warriors made the best offerings: brave, beautiful and unafraid. To die in one of these sacred battles was an honor. As The Florentine Codex notes, they were “debt payments” to the gods — each body a line item in the cosmic ledger.

It sounds kind of poetic — if you ignore the gruesome obsidian knives carving out all those still-beating hearts.

Yet within that brutality lived a strange kind of grace. The Aztecs saw the world as a vast cycle of giving and renewal. Flowers wilted, rain fell, the sun rose again — and so did life. In their eyes, blood was just another bloom, proof that everything beautiful demands something in return. 

Tonantzin: The Reverend Mother Who Became the Virgin Mary

If you climb Tepeyac Hill, on the north side of Mexico City, at sunrise, people say you can still feel her presence.

Before the Spanish ever arrived, the Mexica made pilgrimages up that hill to honor Tonantzin (Toh-nahn-tseen), “Our Revered Mother.” 

But the name wasn’t tied to one figure. It was a title, a crown shared by the great mother goddesses:

• Coatlicue when she was fierce

• Teteoinnan when she was the ultimate authority

• Chalchiuhtlicue when she flowed with kindness

Then the conquest happened. The Spanish tore down her temple and built a church on the exact same hill dedicated to the Virgin Mary. 

They expected the indigenous people to move on. They didn’t. The locals kept making pilgrimages, lighting candles and praying — but they kept calling the Virgin Mary Tonantzin.

Fray Bernardino de Sahagún, a Franciscan friar, lost his mind over it, writing “This appears to be a Satanic device to mask idolatry,” in his Historia General de las Cosas de Nueva España. 

Tonantzin is the Aztec mother goddess who survived colonization by putting on a new outfit. –Wally

Oficina Marques: A Cool Collaboration in Lisbon

The playful atelier in the Bairro Alto neighborhood turns recycled materials, folklore and everyday objects into irresistible art.

When planning a trip, we always start big, with days packed with places we want to see. But once we arrive, reality (and time and exhaustion) usually means scaling back and shifting things around a bit.

One destination that didn’t get cut from our Lisbon list: Oficina Marques, a gallery and shop in Bairro Alto, one of the city’s oldest neighborhoods and, remarkably, one left relatively untouched by the 1755 earthquake. 

“The shop feels like a cabinet of curiosities — brimming with original art and objects crafted in the adjacent workshop. ”

I first came across their atelier through a feature in Surface’s Design Dispatch newsletter about Lisbon Design Week. I was instantly drawn to their playful aesthetic, and when I showed my husband, Wally, their Instagram, he was sold, too. 

The Creative Duo Behind Oficina Marques

The studio is led by the creative duo Gezo Marques and José Aparício Gonçalves, whose distinctive style draws inspiration from the natural world and embodies the motto “tusa de viver” — the irrepressible desire to live. Their work explores several themes including: Mar (Sea), Mato (Forest), Corpo (Body), Fé (Faith), and Lisboa (Lisbon), each offering a window into how they see life, place and the materials they transform into art.

Oficina means “workshop” in Portuguese, a nod to the handmade nature of their work, while Marques comes from the surname of one of its founders, Gezo, grounding the studio’s name in both craft and personal identity. Their atelier is located in the Interpress building, a former printing and distribution center for newspapers and magazines that was gradually transformed into a vibrant creative hub filled with studios, workshops and galleries. 

A Visit to Oficina Marques

When we arrived, the gallery space held a few assemblages made from recycled materials and a couple of framed tile panels. As we looked around, José, one of the founders, popped in and explained that the embossed white and green tile panels were developed in collaboration with Viúva Lamego to celebrate the factory’s 175th anniversary. The partnership resulted in Arcádia, a collection of geometric forms inspired by the mythical Greek utopia, where dryads, nymphs and shepherds lived in harmony with nature. He went on to mention that a temple-like installation of those tiles by Spacegram Studio had been on display in the gallery during Design Week. 

While the gallery itself was filled with a few larger pieces, the adjoining shop felt like a cabinet of curiosities — brimming with original art and objects crafted in the adjacent workshop. Bundles of dried amaranthus, eucalyptus and hydrangea hung from the ceiling, perfuming the air with a faint, earthy sweetness. 

The shelves held an eclectic mix of items: ceramic face vessels and glass cloches filled with curious scenes — the Virgin Mary surrounded by seahorses, starfish and coral; a saint on horseback slaying a dragon-like creature, with a troop of toy soldiers poised for battle at his feet. Hand-painted plates of varying sizes were set among a plaster cast of a classical male nude, along with primitive carved wooden crocodiles, African tribal statuettes, and glinting tin ex-voto hearts — all arranged with a discerning curatorial eye.

We were debating between a small blue-and-white plate with an open hand and another featuring a bare-chested minotaur when I noticed a pair of weathered wooden pieces hanging on the wall, each shaped like a raised hand with symbols etched into the fingers. One was inscribed with the words “Love You,” and the other “Fuck You.” It was at that moment I “went rogue,” as Wally would later say. Without consulting my husband, I looked over at José and said, “We’ll take these.”

José smiled and explained that he and Gezo had found the pieces while out on the beach, scavenging for materials to use in their work. The two boards, he told us, fit together perfectly — a reflection of life’s many dualities. 

After José carefully wrapped our purchase, he invited us to step into his and Gezo’s workshop. We were honored to catch a glimpse of their imaginative world — a place shaped by creations that invite you to think, to feel, to wonder and to imagine. 

And honestly, in a world that can feel heavy with pessimism, a little more levity is just what we all need. –Duke

Oficina Marques

Rua Luz Soriano 71
1200-246 Lisbon
Portugal

 

How to Apply for English Teaching Jobs in Europe

Teach English in Europe and use your paycheck for weekend trips. Here’s the FAQ guide to making it happen: visas, qualifications, best countries, salary expectations and the insider stuff the other blogs don’t tell you.

Europe is a buffet of languages, castles, budget airlines and carbs.

The challenge? Experiencing it without coming home to a credit card bill that looks like a Greek tragedy.

Enter: Teaching English in Europe.

It’s flexible, it pays, and it gives you the greatest perk of all: time. Time to wander. Time to travel. Time to pretend you’re in Under the Tuscan Sun.

Whether you picture yourself in a Catalonian classroom or teaching business English in Prague, here’s how to make your European teaching fantasy a real-life paycheck.

FAQ: Teaching English in Europe

Is there demand for English teachers in Europe?

Short answer: Yes.

Longer answer: Yes, and your inbox will start to resemble a talent agent’s.

English is still the language of business worldwide, and studies show that over 20% of job listings in Europe require English proficiency. Everyone from university students to professionals to retirees wants to level up their English, and they need native (or near-native) speakers to help.

Why teach English in Europe? 

Besides the croissants, you get:

1. A dreamy work/life balance

Most contracts average around 35 hours a week (or less). Weekends are for hopping trains to a different country because… well… Europe.

2. Attractive pay + perks

Salaries vary by country, but many schools include:

• Housing assistance

• Transportation stipends

• Health insurance

Translation: Your money goes to travel, not rent.

3. Easy, affordable travel

Cheap regional flights. Trains that actually run on time. Buses for €3.

You’ll become the person who says, “Well since we’re already in Slovenia…”

4. Food worth relocating for

Eat pasta in Rome. Bratwurst in Berlin. Brie in Lyon. Fish ’n’ chips in the U.K.

Where can I teach English in Europe?

You can find work almost anywhere, but these destinations are the greatest hits:

• Spain: Madrid and Barcelona are classics for a reason: big expat community, tons of language schools.

• Italy: Milan, Florence and Rome are magnets for teachers who want culture + carbs.

• Czechia: Prague gives fair salaries, low cost of living and a built-in community of teachers.

• Poland: A rapidly growing market, excellent work/life balance and very affordable living.

What qualifications do I need to teach English in Europe?

You don’t need a degree for many adult and language school roles.

You do need:

• A TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certification, which takes a minimum of 120 hours, from a reputable provider

It tells employers you know how to structure a lesson — and you didn’t just wake up and say, “I think I’ll be a teacher today.”

It also helps with visas and sponsorship in several countries.

Do I need a visa to teach English in Europe?

If you’re an EU citizen, it’s easy.

If you’re not (hi, Americans), it’s still doable, there’s just more paperwork.

Options include:

• Working visas (school sponsorship)

• Working holiday visas (depends on nationality)

• Language assistant programs (government-run placements)

• Digital nomad visas (if teaching online)

Moral of the story: Research the specific visa rules before you start sending applications.

What teaching roles are available?

You’re not limited to standing in front of a chalkboard.

You can teach:

• In public or private schools

• At language academies

• Business English inside companies

• At summer camps

• Online (live anywhere, work from everywhere)

What are the steps to becoming an English teacher in Europe?

1. Get your TEFL certification (120+ hours). This shows you’re serious and gives you the basics: lesson planning, classroom management, etc.

2. Search for jobs. Try:

• Major language school chains

• TEFL job boards

• Local career sites in your target country

3. Consider government programs. Spain and France, for example, both have teacher placement programs.

4. Research visas early. Visas tend to move slowly. (European bureaucracy loves paperwork. And stamps.)

5. Budget your move. Understand the cost of living and how long until that first paycheck lands.

So… is this really a good way to experience Europe?

Absolutely. Instead of visiting Europe, you get to live Europe. Living abroad, you become a regular at a café. You have favorite bakery staff who know your order. You find yourself muttering, “Ugh, tourists,” like you didn’t arrive on the same flight.

And before you know it, you’re planning weekend trips based on whatever city is calling your name.

Ready to make Europe your classroom?

Get the TEFL, send the applications, and book the one-way ticket. Your future self — living near a 14th century cathedral and eating €2 gelato — will thank you. –Shahroz Yousaf

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ANOTHER OPTION: Have you thought about being a licensed practical nurses (LPNs) abroad?

Snowed-In Layover at MSP: Skyways Survival, Saunas & Sweet Spots

Got a layover at Minneapolis–Saint Paul International Airport? Here’s how to amuse yourself, from a terminal massage to a quick trip downtown via the skyways.

You step off the plane, and the jet bridge exhales a blast of arctic air. Outside, Minneapolis is a snow globe; inside, the terminal hums with gate changes and scarf-wrapped travelers clutching hot coffee. You’ve got three to six hours until your next flight. Great. 

But a winter layover at MSP can be fun. It’s an invitation to warm up, wander smart and waste precisely zero time.

The 3-to-6-Hour MSP Game Plan: Choose Your Own Cozy

Before you sprint toward the nearest cinnamon roll, map the layover by time:

• 3 hours or less: Stay terminal-side. Walk to reset your circulation, grab one indulgent local treat, book a shoulder-saving mini-massage, and pick one micro-mission (reading nook, art stroll or people-watching perch near a window).

• 4–5 hours: Consider a quick city dip. The Metro Blue Line from MSP to downtown runs directly from both terminals. Trains run frequently, and the ride to the core is under half an hour each way, so you can touch base with Minneapolis without flirting with a missed connection.

• 6 hours: Stretch your legs downtown via the skyways (more on that below), nibble something warm, and loop back with a cushion to spare.

Pro tip: If you drove to the airport: Avoid terminal garage sticker shock by pre-booking off-site MSP parking so arrival and departure are frictionless. It’s dull logistics that pays you back in actual fun once you’re landside.

MSP Terminal Comforts: Heat, Knead, Feed

This is a winter layover: Your core mission is warmth and circulation. Inside MSP, you’ll find:

• Quick kneads. Ten to 30 minutes in a massage chair can reset even the surliest spine before a long haul. If you’re the “I didn’t know my neck could make that sound” traveler, build one mini-treatment into your itinerary.

• Warmth by walking. Terminals here are made for laps. Lace up, cue a podcast, and walk 10 to 20 minutes between bites or tasks. Your joints (and mood) will thank you at cruising altitude.

• Strategic calories. Think “one hot + one hydrating”: soup or a toasted sandwich plus a giant water to counteract the dehydrating air. If you do coffee, chase it with water so you don’t arrive at your gate feeling like a raisin in a parka.

• Delay insurance. Put your meds, a spare pair of socks, and a portable battery in your personal item — not the carry-on you gate-check when overheads fill up. If chaos hits, you’ll still be functional. If chaos really hits, you’ll appreciate how to not freak out if you lose your wallet — mindset and method matter when travel gets messy.

Want a Taste of Minneapolis? Ride & Glide

If your layover is 4–6 hours and the weather isn’t actively auditioning for a disaster movie, do the quick city loop:

1. Hop on the Blue Line. From Terminal 1 or 2, board the light rail toward downtown. Trains are frequent, and it’s a straight shot to Nicollet Mall/Target Field. Check schedules and any service alerts before you commit; the official pages keep them current.

2. Enter the sky. Downtown’s enclosed walkways are the city’s winter superpower — roughly 10 miles of climate-controlled routes connecting about 80 blocks. Think of it as a heated maze where you can wander without windburn. Hours vary by building (weekday-heavy), so plan for daytime/early evening access.

3. A tiny “sky-tour.”

• From the Nicollet area, duck into an entrance and follow overhead signage toward retail or food courts.

• Loop two to four blocks, pausing where you see cozy seating or bakery smells (the best compass).

• Snap a skyline peek from an elevated window and then reverse course. The goal isn’t maximal sightseeing; it’s staying toasty while you get a feel for Minneapolis’ unique winter rhythm — walking without ever going outside.

4. Time discipline. Set a departure alarm that gets you back on the Blue Line with a generous buffer. Winter means slower everything; your future self would like to avoid cardio sprints in snow boots.

Weather reality check: Minneapolis winters can deliver serious wind chills. If you’re curious how cold it really feels, the National Weather Service’s wind chill chart translates temps and wind into “what your face experiences,” so you can decide whether street-level detours make sense, or if indoor skyways should be your sole playground.

Heat Therapy, Minnesota Edition: Saunas, Steam and “Warm Enough” Hacks

No, MSP isn’t Helsinki. But you can still nudge your core temp upward without a full spa day:

• Hotel-adjacent warmth. The InterContinental MSP connects to Terminal 1 via skybridge and (when operating) offers a dedicated TSA checkpoint window for carry-on travelers — handy if you’re starting or ending in Minneapolis and want a “roll out of bed, roll onto plane” morning. Even if you’re not staying the night this time, earmark it for a future trip when you are starting in MSP; the path beats a frosty curbside dash. (Always verify current hours before you plan around them.)

• Make your own sauna lite. Swap a bulky coat for tactical layers you can modulate: thermal tee, mid-layer fleece, packable shell. Layering beats sweating, then freezing, especially when you’re transitioning between warm terminals, brisk platforms and steamy coffeeshops. (If you’re revisiting your packing system, you might find the field-tested notes on what to pack for South America useful — different continent, same principles of warmth, weight and sanity.)

• Hands and feet first. Carry a tiny tube of unscented balm (for nose and lips), thin glove liners that work with phone screens, and wool socks that keep your toes snug and warm. If you’re prone to Raynaud’s, stash disposable hand warmers and use them before you feel the sting.

• Hydrate and humidify. Winter air is bone-dry. Drink more water than you feel comfortable with, and if you’re sensitive, a pocket-sized saline spray can do wonders. Your skin will forgive you by the next boarding call.

• Mindset matters. Long layovers feel better with a small, self-sufficient kit and a loose plan — exactly the ethos of how to survive and actually enjoy off-grid travel. You don’t need a cabin in the woods to use those habits; an airport in February will do.

Micro-Itineraries for an MSP Layover

3-Hour Thaw: Staying Airside

• 0:00–0:10 — Walk a long loop to shake off the plane

• 0:10–0:40 — Quick chair massage, shoulders + neck

• 0:40–1:10 — Soup and water; download podcasts or audiobooks

• 1:10–2:10 — Art stroll + bookshop browse; text the friend you always forget to text

• 2:10–3:00 — Gate shift, stretch, board

4½-Hour Tour: Touching the City

• 0:00–0:15 — Exit to the Blue Line platform; set your return alarm

• 0:15–0:45 — Train to Nicollet Mall; enter an indoor walkway; browse a couple of blocks for a warm lunch

• 0:45–1:45 — Loop through the skyways; peek at street views from elevated windows

• 1:45–2:15 — Train back to MSP

• 2:15–3:00 — Security + hydration + boarding buffer

6-Hour Itinerary: Maximizing Comfort

• Split your time:

• An hour of movement (walks)

• An hour of eating (twice)

• An hour of errands (charging, reorganizing your bag), plus transit and buffers

• If the wind-chill reading makes you wince, keep the whole thing indoors and bask in the fact that Minneapolis lets you wander for blocks without ever braving the curb.

Minneapolis Winter Know-Before-You-Go

• Transit timing. Blue Line frequency and travel times are predictable, but winter can slow transfers. Always skim the official page right before you commit to the downtown hop; it’ll flag any service changes.

• Skyway hours vary. Many connections keep weekday business hours, with shorter weekends. If you’re planning a Saturday or Sunday wander — or an evening hop — expect a smaller network than the lunch-hour rush.

• Layer logic beats heavy coats. You’ll move between overheated interiors and brisk platforms; being able to peel or add is the difference between “glow” and “sweaty popsicle.”

• Security reality. Liquid rules are still very much a thing in the U.S., so consolidate your gels/creams into a 1-quart bag, and don’t gamble on oversized lotions. If you need a refresher, the official TSA liquids rule is the no-drama reference — worth a peek before you hit the checkpoint on your way back to the gate.

• Money and ID always accessible. Keep a small “essentials kit” (ID, a backup credit or debit card, some cash, phone) on your person.

• If you’re a “park and fly” person. For multi-day trips, booking offsite parking in advance means you’re not circling garages at odd hours or paying top-tier prices on return day. Treat it like lodging: The earlier you book, the saner the rate and the smoother your exit.

• Pack a small mercy. A spare pair of socks. Trust me. Dry wool on cold feet is a personality upgrade. It’s something you don’t ever want to forget to pack.

A snowed-in layover can be a slog, but it can also be a strangely lovely intermission: a heated stroll above the streets, a real meal, a reset for your brain and back, and a tiny story to take home. You don’t need to conquer Minneapolis in an afternoon; you just need to leave warmer, calmer, and a little bit smug about how well you used the time. –Munazza Faisal

Best Secrets to Find Common Ground Anywhere

You don’t need a shared language to understand someone — just an open mind, a curious heart and maybe a meal together. Discover the simple, human gestures that turn strangers into friends anywhere in the world.

It doesn’t matter where you go — the language, the food or even the way people cross the street can feel alien. Yet, beneath all that difference, a pulse remains the same: People want to connect. In a world that moves faster than your next flight, finding common ground is more than just being polite; it’s survival for the modern traveler, the curious mind and the restless soul.

Travel is a series of encounters. And in every one, culture becomes both a bridge and a wall. According to a recent survey by Arival, over 65% of travelers say their most memorable experiences come from interactions with locals, not sightseeing. That statistic tells a quiet truth — shared understanding turns destinations into stories.

Here’s how to find common ground and make connections no matter where you travel: 

1. Start with listening — not talking. 

The first and most underestimated secret is silence. People often mistake connection for conversation, but the reality is gentler. Listening is what opens the door. When traveling to new cultures, the rhythm of speech, tone and pauses can often tell more than words themselves.

Think about it. When you’re in a market in Morocco, in a café in Prague or waiting for a train in Japan, what makes you part of that place isn’t what you say — it’s how you observe. Active listening, psychologists note, improves empathy and helps form trust almost 40% faster than normal conversation.

So, whether you’re in the middle of an adventure through remote villages or navigating a big city, the rule holds: The quieter you become, the more you hear.

2. Learn the little things. 

Culture isn’t always grand architecture or traditional festivals. Sometimes it hides in how people greet each other or how they serve tea. A traveler who learns to notice those things becomes less of an outsider.

Try saying just one word in the local language — not perfectly, just honestly. A study from the University of Cambridge showed that even a small attempt at local language increases positive reactions by nearly 70% in social encounters abroad. Why? Because effort is universal respect.

Adventure can also be about humility — learning from others without trying to prove that you already know something.

3. Share food, share worlds. 

There’s no faster way to find common ground than by sharing a meal. Every dish is a cultural message — spicy, sweet, bitter or subtle, it tells a story of geography, history and survival. Sitting at a table, even in silence, can melt barriers faster than words.

In Thailand, you’ll see travelers and locals sharing street food without hesitation. In Italy, long lunches turn strangers into family. In Mexico, a tortilla passed from one hand to another carries warmth that no translation can express. Food, in essence, is diplomacy in disguise.

And yet, it’s more than that. Eating together reminds us that human adventure is shared — that we all need nourishment, warmth, laughter.

4. Be curious, not  judgmental. 

It’s tempting to compare. To measure one culture by another. But to find common ground, curiosity must replace judgment. Curiosity leads to stories. Judgment leads to silence.

When you ask, ”Why?” instead of saying, “That’s strange,” you invite the world to explain itself to you. A traveler once said, “The moment you stop being surprised, you stop traveling.” And you don’t have to physically travel the world; you can open a window through live video platforms like CallMeChat and similar services. Chatting online helps you get to know new cultures and people, and develop your curiosity right from your smartphone or PC.

5. Use shared emotions. 

You may not share a language, but you share emotions. Laughter, surprise, gratitude — these are cultural passports. A smile can speak faster than Google Translate ever could. In moments of misunderstanding, humor eases the tension.

When someone helps you find your way or teaches you something local, gratitude bridges the gap. Travel is a lesson in vulnerability — in allowing yourself to be seen not as a tourist, but as a fellow human being.

6. Join local life, even briefly. 

To find common ground, you must step into daily rhythms — even if just for a short time. Take a bus, visit a community market, attend a local game or help in a small project. When you participate, you cross the line between observer and participant.

In studies, cultural immersion is said to increase empathy after a week or so of active engagement. That means walking the same streets, sharing the same weather, even facing the same small inconveniences — because in those moments, you stop being a visitor and start being part of the place.

Adventure becomes a two-way story. You take memories, yes, but you also leave traces — laughter, kindness, maybe a promise to return.

7. Let technology help — but not lead. 

It’s tempting to rely on translation apps, maps or social platforms to connect. Yes, they’re useful — essential even. But the risk is losing the raw, human unpredictability that makes connection real.

Technology should foster connection, not isolation. It can help you learn a few words, understand customs or find cultural events nearby. Yet the deepest understanding happens offline — when you look up, make eye contact and exchange gestures instead of data.

Respect: The Core of Connection

Respect is the quiet foundation of all shared ground. It’s not about agreement; it’s about acknowledgment. You can admire another culture without adopting it. You can disagree without disrespecting.

When you travel through new lands, remember that your exploration unfolds in someone else’s home. Remember that. The more respect you give, the more culture gives back.

In fact, surveys across multiple countries show that travelers rated “respect for local customs” as the most appreciated trait in foreigners — above generosity or politeness. That says everything.

Finding Universal Ground

Every culture is a mirror — sometimes clear, sometimes foggy — reflecting a version of humanity back at you. Finding common ground isn’t about losing your identity; it’s about expanding it.

Travel, when done right, teaches that there is no them. There’s only us, in different forms, languages and stories. And adventure — the real kind — begins when you start to see yourself in others.

In the end, the best secret to finding common ground anywhere is simple: Be human, and let others be, too. Everything else — the smiles, the shared food, the laughter, the lessons — will follow naturally. –William Charest

RELATED: How Living Abroad Will Challenge and Change You

Old City Chiang Mai: Culture, Markets and Routes for Tourists

Discover the Old Town of Chiang Mai, where ancient temples, vibrant markets and scenic walking routes bring Thailand’s Lanna heritage to life.

The Old City of Chiang Mai is a living testament to a rich cultural heritage and history. With its ancient temples, charming streets and bustling markets, it offers a perfect blend of tradition and modern life. 

The city’s old walls and moat, which once protected it, now provide a scenic backdrop to the vibrant cultural scene. From serene Buddhist temples to lively night bazaars, there’s something for everyone. We’ll explore the best cultural sites, markets and walking routes in Chiang Mai’s Old City, offering helpful tips for tourists looking to fully experience the essence of this historic location.

As with any popular tourist destination, it’s important to stay aware of your surroundings and ensure personal safety. Travelers should be cautious of potential scams or fraudulent activities that could arise during their visit. For those unfamiliar with the term, white collar crime (คือ) refers to financial crimes like fraud or embezzlement, which can affect both locals and tourists alike. Understanding the risks will help you have a safe and enjoyable trip.

Historical Value and Culture of the Old City Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai is one of the oldest and most culturally rich cities in Thailand. The Old City of Chiang Mai, surrounded by a moat and walls, is a true open-air museum that attracts tourists with its history and architecture. Here, ancient temples and pagodas have been preserved, most of which were built in the style of the Lanna Kingdom. The temples of Wat Phra Singh and Wat Chedi Luang are just a couple of the many sacred sites worth visiting.

A walk through the streets of the Old City allows you to feel the atmosphere that has been preserved from ancient times. The city blends tradition with modernity: On one street, you can see ancient temples, while on another, you will find modern cafés and shops. This contrast creates a special atmosphere that attracts travelers from all over the world.

MORE: Find these off-the-beaten-path Chiang Mai temples. 

Main Markets and Local Attractions of Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai is known for its markets, which are an integral part of local culture. The day market, known as Chiang Mai Rat, is where tourists can buy souvenirs, local products and handmade goods. However, the most famous is the Chiang Mai Night Market, which operates from evening until late at night. This is a great place to purchase unique items such as leather goods, silverware, textiles, and also to enjoy local street food.

MORE: Where is the best street food in Chiang Mai?

In addition to the markets, Chiang Mai has several museums, such as the Art Museum and the National Museum of Chiang Mai. All of these places provide an excellent opportunity to learn more about the culture and history of the region.

To fully enjoy the atmosphere of the city, it is recommended to visit these markets early in the morning or later in the evening, when the temperature is more comfortable and the number of tourists is lower.

Chiang Mai Walking Routes and Excursions

Walking through the Old City of Chiang Mai is a wonderful way to enjoy its atmosphere. For those who enjoy walking, there are several interesting routes that allow you to see all the major attractions of the city — especially if you want to see the Thai Buddhist temples of Chiang Mai. For cyclists, there are designated bike routes that pass through green areas and offer the opportunity to get acquainted with the local nature.

You can also participate in guided tours that help you understand the culture and history of the city more deeply. For those who prefer independent routes, there is the option of hiring a guide who will tell you about historical sites and traditions of the region.

For tourists who prefer safe areas, the Old City is an ideal choice, as most tourist attractions are within walking distance and you can peacefully stroll through the quiet streets.

Useful Information for Travelers and Legal Aspects

Chiang Mai is a safe place for travel, but there are always some safety aspects to consider. For visitors to Thailand, a visa is required for many countries, so it is important to take care of obtaining it in advance. It is also crucial to have medical insurance for the trip, which will cover any unforeseen expenses in case of illness or accidents.

Additionally, it is important to be informed about the legal aspects of staying in Thailand. For example, crimes related to financial manipulation or illegal activities can result in serious consequences. White collar crime in Thailand refers to crimes related to fraud, corruption, and other financial violations. It is important to comply with local laws to avoid legal troubles.

Also, remember that if legal issues arise in Thailand, you can turn to Interpol Thailand for consultation and assistance in resolving legal problems. This will help ensure your safety while staying in the country. –Anatoly Yarovyi

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Anatoly Yarovyi is a Ukrainian attorney and human rights advocate with over 20 years of experience. He holds masters of laws (LL.M.) from Ivan Franko National University of Lviv and Stanford University, specializing in international law and extradition cases.

Building Financial Independence While Living a Nomadic Lifestyle

Dreaming of life on the road without wrecking your finances? Here’s how digital nomads are building financial independence — from minimalist living to smart investing — while exploring the world.

Living a nomadic lifestyle is an escape from the 9-to-5 grind and a rebellion against routine. Imagine swapping fluorescent office lights for sunrises in Bali or coffee breaks in Budapest. For many, this life on the move is the ultimate dream. But here’s the twist: It can also be a legitimate path to financial independence. 

That might sound counterintuitive — trading a steady home base for a backpack — but with a few smart strategies, you can actually earn, save and invest your way toward long-term freedom while living on your own terms. Here’s how:

1. Embrace minimalism (and kiss clutter goodbye).

One of the secret perks of nomadic life? There’s only so much you can fit in a carry-on. Minimalism isn’t just aesthetic; it can be financial liberation. When you’re not tied to a lease, a car payment or endless Target runs, your budget suddenly breathes easier.

Stay flexible with your housing: Rotate between hostels, short-term rentals and local guesthouses, and lean into regions with a lower cost of living. Every month without a utility bill or pricey subscription is a win for your savings.

And beyond the dollars, there’s something quietly euphoric about realizing you don’t need much. The less you own, the lighter you travel — and the freer you feel.

2. Build steady remote income.

Financial independence on the road starts with income that doesn’t care where your Wi-Fi signal comes from. Thanks to the global digital economy, your laptop is your office.

Writers, designers, developers, marketers — the world is your coworking space. Tap into platforms like Upwork, Fiverr or Freelancer, or pitch your services directly to clients who value remote talent. For the entrepreneurial set, content creation — blogs, YouTube channels, online courses — can evolve into sustainable, even passive income through ads, affiliate links and sponsored partnerships.

Diversify your revenue streams like a pro investor. That way, if one project fizzles, another keeps you afloat (and caffeinated).

3. Save and invest like it’s your next adventure. 

It’s easy to justify splurging on yet another scuba trip in Koh Tao, Thailand — but every dollar saved gets you closer to long-term freedom. The key is balance: Experience the world and fund your future.

Start with a simple budget that reflects your new lifestyle. With fewer fixed expenses, your savings rate can soar — but don’t let that money sit idle. Invest it. Set up tax-advantaged accounts like a 401(k) or IRA, or automate regular contributions to low-cost index funds and exchange-traded funds (ETFs). That’s where the magic of compounding quietly works behind the scenes while you’re off chasing sunsets.

And if you need guidance, resources like ThinkSaveRetire.com break down budgeting and early retirement strategies tailored to digital nomads.

4. Automate your money.

You’ve got better things to do than juggle bill payments while crossing time zones. Automation is your best travel companion. Set up automatic transfers to your savings and investment accounts. Schedule recurring payments for credit cards, insurance and subscriptions.

Then let budgeting apps like Mint or YNAB track your spending and alert you before things go off the rails. They’re especially handy when currency exchange rates shift from one destination to the next.

Automation keeps your finances humming quietly in the background — no panic, no missed due dates, just smooth sailing.

5. Don’t skip the boring stuff: insurance and healthcare. 

Freedom’s fun until you get food poisoning in Morocco. Health insurance isn’t glamorous, but it’s essential. Many digital nomads go for international insurance coverage that follows them across borders — flexible, comprehensive, and less of a headache than patchwork local policies.

Read more: Here’s how to pick the best travel insurance plan for your lifestyle.

Add a layer of protection with life or disability insurance to secure your future plans. The goal is peace of mind, not paranoia — but when you’re building long-term independence, a little planning goes a long way.

6. Think beyond early retirement. 

Early retirement isn’t the end of your financial journey; it’s the next adventure. If you plan to keep exploring after hitting financial independence, think about what sustainable income looks like long-term. Maybe it’s rental properties, dividend-paying investments, or a business that runs itself while you’re trekking the Andes.

The point is: Financial independence isn’t about stopping work. It’s about designing a life where you only do the work you love — and do it from anywhere.

Living Free and Building Wealth

Financial independence and nomadic living aren’t opposites; they’re allies. With a minimalist mindset, multiple income streams and a little automation, you can craft a life that’s both adventurous and secure.

Freedom is about choice. So start now. Build your financial safety net, pack your essentials, and go see the world on your terms. –Christy Baker

Locke de Santa Joana Hotel in Lisbon: From Convent to Chic Retreat

Want to spend a few nights in a converted 17th century convent in Lisbon? Look no further than the apartment-like rooms of Locke de Santa Joana. 

For me, one of the best parts of planning any trip lies in finding the perfect home base — a place within walking distance of the sights we want to see, yet far enough removed to kick back and unwind at the end of a day spent exploring. 

After narrowing down our options for Lisbon, Portugal, Locke de Santa Joana was a no-brainer. The property’s about a 15-minute cab ride from Lisbon Airport, located near Marquês de Pombal Square and Avenida da Liberdade — Lisbon’s grand, tree-lined boulevard modeled after Paris’ Champs-Élysées. It’s also within walking distance of the barrios históricos (historic neighborhoods) of Baixa, Chiado and Bairro Alto, home to many landmarks, shops and cafés.

“Thanks to strict preservation laws, a large percentage of the original convent’s architecture remains untouched, including arches, columns and the azulejo tiles that can be seen throughout the hotel’s hallways.”

I was smitten from the moment Wally and I stepped into the lobby and passed Castro’s, the hotel’s in-house café. We were surrounded by a captivating mix of old and new: handpainted azulejo tiles unearthed during excavation, plush low-slung seating in rich hues of ochre, umber and cornflower blue, and clusters of tropical plants spilling from oversized terracotta pots, giving the space a laidback, residential warmth.

A Brief History of Locke de Santa Joana

The hotel occupies four distinct buildings — Arte, Beato, Convento and D. Álvaro —  naming conventions that pay homage to its heritage, notable historical figures and the original purpose of the structures. 

Inside, you’ll find preserved artifacts from the former Convento de Santa Joana de Lisboa (Convent of Saint Joana), dedicated to Joana of Portugal, the princess and daughter of King Afonso V and Queen Isabella of Coimbra, who later took her vows as a Dominican nun and was beatified for her devotion.

The convent’s story begins in 1699, when the first buildings were established by the Dominicans of the Order of Preachers. For centuries, the complex housed nuns who lived largely in seclusion through prayer, work and self-sufficiency. 

Its buildings were heavily damaged during the catastrophic earthquake that struck Lisbon on All Saints’ Day in 1755 but were later repaired. Over a century later, the convent was officially decommissioned following the death of its last nun, and the property passed to the state. Over the ensuing decades, the buildings fell into disrepair and were repurposed for various uses. The last known occupant before the site's transformation into Locke de Santa Joana was a modest office used by the police department’s traffic division.

Looking back, I realize that we’ve stayed in more than a few places formerly dedicated to monastic life. 

Casa Antonieta in Oaxaca, Mexico was originally part of the Convent of San Pablo before becoming a private residence and, eventually, a boutique hotel. While in Córdoba, Spain’s serene Judería, Los Patios de Pañuelos occupies what was once a bishop’s manor. There’s something undeniably special about staying in a place that has a story to tell.

The 370-room property is spread across four interconnected buildings, or blocks, with several offering views of the central courtyard terrace that houses the pool, outdoor bar and Santa Marta restaurant, located on Rua de Santa Marta, the street that provides an additional entrance to Locke de Santa Joana. The restaurant is open daily from 12 p.m. to 10 p.m., and serves Mediterranean fare, as well as wood-fired pizzas for when you’re craving something beyond traditional Portuguese cuisine. 

Fun fact: In Christian tradition, Santa Marta (Saint Martha of Bethany), sister of Lazarus and Mary, is the patron saint of hospitality, cooks, servants and innkeepers — basically the ultimate foodie and hostess. Makes you think the restaurant might have her blessing, don’t you?

The Rooms of Locke de Santa Joana

Architecture studio Saraiva+Ássociados designed the modern Beato wing, fittingly named after Santo António (Saint Anthony), the patron saint of Lisbon, who, according to legend, began the construction of the Convento do Beato (Convent of the Blessed) with just seven tostões, a small denomination of currency, given as alms. 

Inside, Lázaro Rosa-Violàn oversaw the design of the hotel’s communal spaces, which gracefully honor its monastic past while embracing its new purpose as a luxury hotel. The guest rooms reflect the refined, modern sensibility of Brooklyn-based Post Company, blending comfort and contemporary style in every detail. 

Thanks to strict preservation laws, a large percentage of the original architecture remained untouched, including arches, stone columns, and the aforementioned centuries-old azulejos that can be seen throughout the hotel’s winding white hallways.

Full disclosure: We found ourselves lost several times due to inner staircases that required a key card to pass through and elevators that served only specific floors. And we weren’t alone; we passed quite a few fellow guests shaking their heads, unable to figure out how to get where they wanted to go. 

We stayed in a Locke Studio in the Beato block for five nights, a space that perfectly balanced thoughtful design with understated comfort. The bathroom, tiled in dusty rose, featured a walk-in rainfall shower, thick cotton towels and toiletries by Kinsey Apothecary.

The queen-size bed was soft and inviting, and above it hung a framed textile by Peruvian artist Ana Teresa Barboza. Woven from dyed cotton and wool fibers, the piece reflected the colors of Lisbon and incorporated fragments of a geological map of Portugal, to create a layered, tactile homage to the city’s history. 

A curved wooden frame with subtly rippled glass separates the sleeping area from a well-equipped kitchenette, complete with a Nespresso coffee machine, washer/dryer, mini-fridge, dishwasher, sink, oven and two-burner induction cooktop. 

The kitchenette is a nice touch — we enjoyed being able to have leftovers for dinner one evening. 

There’s also a sofa that’s perfect for lounging and a small dining table and chair where you can linger over your morning coffee.

At one point, Wally peered down from our room’s large windows, saw a couple of young women lounging with books by the pool, and remarked that the scene gave him serious White Lotus vibes. 

Heads up — this isn’t your typical hotel. Housekeeping is limited to weekly service, or midway through longer stays, though extra cleanings can be arranged upon request. The upside? You get your own beautifully designed space to actually live in, not just stay in.

Food and Drink Options at Locke de Santa Joana

Breakfast is served daily from 7 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. at Santa Joana, the hotel’s namesake restaurant, located inside the centrally situated Arte building, which features the restored façade of the former 17th century convent. Like other guests, we entered through the courtyard and checked in with the host before going inside. 

The restaurant’s interior is a feast for the eyes, blending preserved architectural elements with contemporary design. Its grand dining room features soaring ceilings, pink marble tables, and a focal wall adorned with modern tribal masks reduced to geometric shapes in blush, brick and aubergine tones by Lisbon-based Grau° Cerâmica. Like the lobby, the room is filled with greenery, offering privacy between the tables and upholstered banquettes.

The indulgent buffet covers table after table, offering a variety of thinly sliced cured meats, including presunto, the Portuguese take on prosciutto, along with smoked salmon, local cheeses, fruit, yogurt and freshly squeezed juices, as well as a selection of freshly baked breads and pastries, including the legendary pasteis de nata. There are also self-serve hot options such as scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon and roasted potatoes.

Castro’s was our first stop before heading out each morning and offered a variety of pastries, sandwiches, cookies and of course coffee. I regret not purchasing a pistachio cookie but somehow found the willpower to restrain myself. 

We ended one evening at Kissaten (which Wally of course called Kiss & Tell), the hotel’s late-night Japanese jazz kissa — a listening bar where the soundtrack drifted from jazz to blues, rock, soul and singer-songwriter classics. The menu boasts Lisbon’s largest whiskey collection, curated by Glasgow-born expert Dave Broom. 

We loved the vibe of the dimly lit lounge and cozied up to the bar. I snapped a photo of the menu and sent it to my dad — he’s a bit of a connoisseur — who suggested Compass Box, but I ended up ordering the Spicy Mezcalita, a bright, smoky mix of mezcal, yuzu, lime and jalapeño. Wally went for the Plum, a smooth, refreshing blend of Japanese whisky, plum, sake and soda water. We probably would’ve ordered a second round if we hadn’t been getting up early the next morning for a tour of Castelo de São Jorge. 

Service and Amenitites 

From the moment we arrived, the genuine warmth and hospitality of the staff made a lasting impression. Everyone we met was friendly, attentive and went above and beyond to ensure our stay was as comfortable as possible. 

I overheard a man (one half of a couple who was checking out on the day we arrived) say to the concierge, “We didn’t get to enjoy the pool.” When the concierge asked why, he deadpanned, “Because we’re British.”

I’d packed our swimsuits knowing there was a pool, but, alas, like the British pair, the most we managed was to relax poolside on sun loungers with a cocktail one late afternoon. 

While Santa Joana is right in the thick of it, step inside, and suddenly, you’re in an unexpected oasis that feels about as far from the city chaos as you can get. 

So, if you’re looking for a chic Lisbon base beyond the traditional hotel format, Locke de Santa Joana is just the place. –Duke

Locke de Santa Joana

Rua Camilo Castelo Branco, 18
1150-084 Lisbon
Portugal 

The Smarter Way to Stay Near Barcelona: Rent a Villa in Sitges

Looking for a place to stay near Barcelona? Just 30 minutes away, Sitges combines a gay-friendly beach vibe with easy city access. Here’s why renting a villa in Sitges might be the smartest move for your next trip.

Barcelona gets a lot of love — and rightfully so. It’s a city bursting with culture, creativity and food that makes you want to cancel your return flight. But if you’re planning a trip to this part of Spain and want a slower, more intimate experience without sacrificing access to the city, it’s worth looking just a bit down the coast.

Welcome to Sitges, a seaside town with enough charm to rival its famous neighbor — and a growing reputation as one of the best spots in Catalonia for relaxed, authentic travel.

So Why Sitges?

Sitges sits just 30 minutes from Barcelona by train, but it offers a very different rhythm. With its whitewashed façades, palm-lined promenades, art galleries and hidden beaches, Sitges feels like a Mediterranean postcard come to life. It’s long been a favorite of artists, writers and other creatives, and in recent years, it's become a go-to for travelers seeking a mix of beachside tranquility and cultural flair.

You’ll still find great food (from local seafood to global fusion), a lively LGBTQ+ scene and plenty of opportunity to dance until dawn. But you’ll also find moments of quiet: morning walks by the sea, wine tastings in the hills of Penedès, and long, unhurried lunches.

Why Choose a Villa Over a Hotel?

When most people plan a trip to Spain, they default to hotels or rentals in the city. But Sitges offers a different kind of accommodation — one that’s growing in popularity, especially for longer stays or group travel: private villas.

So, what makes a villa special?

• Space: Villas often come with multiple bedrooms, living areas, private gardens and pools — making them ideal for families, friend groups or even digital nomads seeking more comfort.

• Flexibility: There’s no need to wake up for the hotel breakfast or worry about noisy hallways. You eat when you want, swim when you want, and relax on your own schedule.

• Connection: Villas create a different kind of experience. Cooking together, lounging by the pool, having conversations over wine at sunset — it’s the kind of setting that invites you to truly connect with your travel companions.

What to Look For in a Villa Stay

Not all villas are created equal, of course. Some are better suited for couples, others for large groups or remote workers. If you’re considering this kind of stay in Sitges, here are a few things to keep in mind:

• Location: Some villas are tucked away in the hills with panoramic views, while others are walking distance to the beach or town center. Choose based on your priorities: peace and quiet or easy access to town.

• Amenities: A pool, outdoor dining area, well-equipped kitchen and air conditioning are essentials during summer. Some villas also offer concierge services, bike rentals or yoga sessions.

• Local insight: Booking through platforms that know the area — or local agencies — often gives you access to insider tips that make your stay even better.

Where to Start Your Search for a Sitges Villa

There are plenty of platforms to browse villa rentals, from the big global ones to smaller local specialists. One option worth exploring is Utopia Villas, a Sitges-based company that curates a selection of stylish, well-located properties across the region. They offer villas for different types of travelers and budgets, and can also help organize extras like airport transfers or private chefs.

If your idea of a good trip includes space to breathe, the sound of waves instead of city traffic, and the chance to live more like a local than a tourist, renting a villa in Sitges might be your best move.

It’s a slower, more intentional kind of travel — one where you don’t just visit, but stay. –Sophia Martin

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Sophia Martin is a travel writer who focuses on Mediterranean destinations. She has explored Spain’s coast, from Costa Brava to Sitges, and writes about local culture, food and travel experiences. When not writing, she enjoys wine tasting and sketching seaside towns from a café terrace.

Underrated Weekend Getaways From San Diego

Perfect weather. Gorgeous beaches. Ho hum. From Julian to Baja Wine Country, these underrated weekend getaways from San Diego offer desert stars, mountain cabins, Mexican vineyards, retro pool scenes and all the apple pie you can handle.

Let’s be honest: Living in San Diego is both a blessing and a trap. Sunshine 300 days a year. Fish tacos everywhere. Beaches that make postcards jealous.

So why on Earth would anyone want to leave?

“The thing about living in San Diego is that the constant perfection can start to feel monotonous.

That’s why it’s essential to escape, even if it’s just for a weekend.”

Because perfection gets boring. Eventually, even the world’s most ideal climate starts to feel like a screensaver that won’t turn off. And when that happens, you need to swap your palm trees for pine trees, your surfboard for a road map, and your Baja hoodie for something that actually counts as a jacket.

Here’s how to do that — without joining the crowds in L.A. or pretending Joshua Tree isn’t overrun.

1. Julian (for Pie, Pines and People Who Think Snow Is a Novelty)

An hour east of San Diego, Julian feels like stepping into a parallel universe where the air smells like apples and nobody owns a surfboard. The town sits in the Cuyamaca Mountains, complete with crisp air, gold rush history and a suspicious number of pie shops.

Go in autumn if you can — apple-picking season turns the place into a Hallmark movie, minus the sappy soundtrack. In winter, there’s even snow. Actual snow! For San Diegans, it’s practically witchcraft.

Stay overnight, hike around Lake Cuyamaca, and leave with the smug glow of someone who “did the mountains this weekend.”

2. Borrego Springs (Desert Solitude With Bonus Giant Lizard)

Two hours northeast lies Borrego Springs, the only International Dark Sky Place in California. Translation: The stars are so intense, they look like they’ve been Photoshopped.

By day, explore Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. Think canyons, slot trails and giant metal sculptures scattered through the sand. The 350-foot serpent alone is worth the drive (and the photos).

By night, grab a drink at a local dive, then lean back and watch the Milky Way show off. It’s as close as you’ll get to peace without joining a silent retreat.

3. Palm Springs (Mid-Century, Modern Escape)

Palm Springs isn’t exactly a secret, but it remains one of the easiest transformations you can make in a single afternoon: from San Diego surf rat to martini-sipping poolside minimalist.

The desert heat, the Mid-Century design, the ridiculous pool floats — it all works. Rent a retro Airbnb or book a spa hotel, and spend the weekend pretending you’re in a Slim Aarons photo.

Yes, it’s a bit performative. That’s half the fun.

4. Baja Wine Country (The World’s Most Chill Vineyard Scene)

Cross the border and drive an hour south into Valle de Guadalupe, Mexico’s not-so-secret wine country. It’s Napa … if Napa cost half as much and didn’t take itself so seriously.

You’ll find open-air restaurants, rolling vineyards and boutique hotels built from reclaimed shipping containers. Order a mezcal cocktail you can’t pronounce, and accept that you’ll probably come home with a few extra bottles.

Pro tip: The sunsets here are the kind that make your phone camera give up and say, “Just live in the moment.”

5. Idyllwild (A Forest Hideaway for People Who Still Own Flannel)

Two hours north, tucked into the San Jacinto Mountains, is Idyllwild — a tiny town of artists, hikers and dogs who all seem suspiciously happy. It’s cabin country at its best: pine needles underfoot, jazz bars at night, and trailheads that start behind coffeeshops.

It’s the ideal reset button after a week of traffic, Slack notifications and ubiquitous oceanfront.

The Joy of Leaving Paradise

If you’ve ever thought, “I need a vacation from my vacation city,” you get it. The thing about living in San Diego is that the constant perfection can start to feel monotonous. That’s why it’s essential to escape, even if it’s just for a weekend.

You don’t have to plan it from scratch, either. Here’s a curated list of weekend getaways from San Diego that’ll help you find your next mini-adventure — whether that means soaking in a hot tub with mountain views or eating your body weight in pie.

The trick isn’t leaving San Diego forever; it’s remembering that there’s a whole world beyond your idyllic bubble. Sometimes, stepping into the desert or up into the mountains makes you appreciate the beach even more.

And when you roll back into town, tanlines fading and cooler full of wine, you’ll remember why you live here in the first place.

Just don’t tell the tourists that paradise actually gets old. It’ll ruin the mystique. –Shahroz Yousaf

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