Reading 'The Best American Travel Writing 2021' felt like flipping through a passport stamped with raw, unfiltered emotions. I curled up with it on a rainy Sunday, craving escape, and got something far deeper—a mirror reflecting how travel (or the lack of it) reshaped us during COVID.

The essay about quarantine on a cruise ship ('Out There, Nobody Can Hear You Scream') had me gripping the pages. The claustrophobia was so visceral, I caught myself holding my breath. Yet, it was 'Mississippi: A Poem, in Days' that lingered—a gut-punch reminder that wanderlust isn’t equally freeing for everyone. I found myself pausing mid-paragraph to stare out the window, rethinking road trips I’d taken for granted.

Surprisingly, my favorite moments weren’t about far-flung places. The piece about discovering hidden corners of one’s own home ('I Decided to Leave') made me see my cramped apartment differently—suddenly, my fire escape became a 'balcony with a view of the neighborhood’s pulse.'

Yes, some essays felt heavy (that profanity-laced political rant had me skimming), but when it shone—like the underwater cable thriller 'Five Oceans, Five Deeps'—I was all in, reading aloud to my roommate like it was breaking news. Pro tip: Skip the preachy bits and let the Alaskan wilderness essay ('Wanderlust') be your bedtime story.

This isn’t your glossy Lonely Planet guide. It’s a time capsule of travel when travel stopped—messy, political, occasionally transcendent. Keep it for the gems that make your feet itch and your heart ache in equal measure.