Something about the remote, the untouched, the places at the edges of the world has always called to me. Antarctica, Papua New Guinea, and Easter Island are a few—each speaking in its own way, pulling me toward the unknown, the mystery, the stories woven into landscapes few have seen.

I’ve been drawn to Papua New Guinea for many years—the highlands where tribes live untouched by Western influence, still deeply rooted in their traditions. Twice, I tried to make the journey happen. The first time, my husband wasn’t keen on me traveling alone there. The second and most recent, with my 25-year-old son who was ready to join me, but after a deep dive and researching our itinerary, the cost to reach the interior was astronomical, as one company controls all bookings and has monopolized the market. As much as I wanted to go, I couldn’t justify the price. Trust me, I love exotic adventures and am willing to pay to play, but this was the next level.

When I finally made it to Easter Island ten years ago, it felt like stepping into another world. The moai stood as silent guardians, their presence heavy with mystery, their origin stories tangled in myth and history. But it wasn’t just the statues—the island itself, the rhythm of the waves, the depth in the eyes of the local people, the inexplicable magic that lingers in the air. A place that imprints one’s soul, leaving memories that don’t fade.

And now, Antarctica awaits—the ultimate frontier, a place of pure extremes, where ice and sky blur into endless white, where survival is raw, and nature reigns without apology. It’s the only continent without an indigenous population, yet it holds a pull as strong as any ancient land. Maybe it’s the isolation, the silence, the idea of standing at the edge of the earth with nothing but ice, sea, and sky stretching infinitely beyond.

There’s a profound privilege and gratitude in making these treks, standing in places that few will ever see, and stepping outside my world and into another. Travel like this isn’t just about checking off remote destinations—it’s about expanding my cultural intelligence, deepening my understanding of humanity, and witnessing the resilience and beauty of people who live in ways so different from my own. Each journey strips away assumptions, challenges perspectives, and gives me a greater reverence for the diversity of life on this planet. I don’t take that for granted. To walk among the moai of Easter Island, to imagine what it would be like to sit with the tribes of Papua New Guinea, and now, to prepare for the vast silence of Antarctica—it is a gift, that continues to give and one that reminds me how vast, complex, and astonishing the world truly is.

I am prepared for my expedition, which takes place in five days, with two books in hand—South by Sir Ernest Shackleton and The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard—both thoughtful gifts from my bibliophile friend Edward. I’ll also watch Werner Herzog’s Encounters at the End of the World, which offers a philosophical and poetic take on Antarctica, adding to my human curiosity about the adventurous souls who choose to live and work there. This journey feels like a natural extension of the awe I found in Easter Island and had hoped to experience and encounter in Papua New Guinea—knowing each place is a testament to resilience, mystery, and the untamed spirit of exploration. There is something magnetic about these landscapes and the people they draw in, perhaps mirroring my own restless drive to pursue, engage with, and understand the unknown.