You know what really opened my eyes to how wasteful travel had become? It wasn't some dramatic moment on a pristine beach covered in plastic bottles – though Lord knows I've seen plenty of those. It was standing in my hotel bathroom in Orlando about six years ago, looking at all those little bottles of shampoo and conditioner lined up on the counter. I'd been there two nights and housekeeping had replaced them every single day, even though I hadn't touched them because I'd brought my own soap. Just sitting there, calculating how many millions of these tiny bottles get manufactured, shipped around the country, used once or not at all, then tossed in the trash. Made me feel sick to my stomach, honestly.
That was back when I was still working, traveling occasionally for conferences or to visit my daughter who lived in Florida then. I'd never really thought about the environmental impact of those trips. You pack your suitcase, get on a plane, stay in whatever hotel the company booked, eat at restaurants, buy a few souvenirs, come home. Standard operating procedure for most Americans my age.
But after my husband died and I started paying attention to environmental issues – really paying attention, not just half-listening to news reports – I couldn't ignore how much waste travel generates. Hotels replacing towels daily whether you want them to or not. Airports where everything comes in disposable packaging. Tourist areas overflowing with trash. Single-use everything, everywhere you look.
My granddaughter Emma, bless her heart, calls me "Grandma Zero Waste" now because of how I've changed my travel habits. Started with small things, like bringing my own toiletries instead of using hotel amenities. Then I got more serious about it, especially after a trip to visit my sister in California turned into a complete disaster from a waste perspective.
I'd flown out there with good intentions, brought my reusable water bottle, packed light, all that. But once I got there, it was convenience culture all the way. Bottled water at the airport because the fountains were broken. Takeout containers for every meal because my sister doesn't cook much anymore. Disposable everything at the tourist attractions we visited. By the time I flew home, I felt like I'd single-handedly filled up a small landfill.
That's when I started getting serious about what I now call mindful travel, though my daughter says I'm being "a bit intense" about it. Maybe I am, but someone has to care about this stuff.
The biggest change I made was how I pack. Used to bring way too much, "just in case" items I never needed. Now I travel with one small suitcase for trips up to two weeks, focused on versatile pieces that can be mixed and matched. One good cardigan that works for cool mornings and air-conditioned restaurants. Comfortable walking shoes that look decent enough for nicer places. Dark pants that don't show wrinkles or minor spills.
Most importantly, I bring my own supplies to avoid single-use items. Not just the water bottle everyone talks about, but a complete kit that's saved me from using thousands of disposable items over the past few years. Small containers for leftover food – you'd be amazed how much restaurant food gets wasted because people don't want to deal with styrofoam boxes. Cloth napkins that I can wash and reuse instead of grabbing paper napkins at every meal. Even a metal spoon and fork, because plastic utensils are everywhere in travel.
The toiletries were the trickiest part to figure out. Those little hotel bottles aren't just wasteful, they're expensive – hotels pay premium prices for those tiny containers, costs that get passed on to guests. Started bringing bar soap and shampoo bars instead of liquids. Takes up less space, never spills in your luggage, lasts forever, and you're not contributing to the plastic bottle problem.
Learned this the hard way on a trip to visit my cousin in Arizona. Brought liquid shampoo in a supposedly leak-proof travel bottle. Opened my suitcase to find everything covered in sticky green goo. Spent my first morning there doing laundry instead of catching up with family. Bar soap and shampoo bars have never betrayed me like that.
Finding places to stay that align with my values took some research. Big chain hotels are environmental disasters, no matter what their marketing says. All that daily housekeeping, the individual packaging of everything at breakfast, the automatic replacement of barely-used amenities. I've started looking for smaller, locally-owned places where waste reduction happens naturally because the owners actually pay the bills.
Found some wonderful places this way. A bed-and-breakfast in Vermont where the owners had chickens and composted all the food scraps. The eggs at breakfast came from their own hens, served on actual plates that had probably been in use for decades. A small inn in North Carolina where they had a garden and used herbs from it in their cooking. These places generate a fraction of the waste of typical tourist accommodations.
When I do stay in regular hotels, I make it clear I don't want daily housekeeping. Towels don't need to be washed every day – I don't wash them daily at home, why would I need that on vacation? I remove those little cards that tell housekeeping to replace everything. If there are unused toiletries when I check out, I leave them very obviously on the counter with a note asking that they not be thrown away.
Had an interesting conversation with a hotel manager in Philadelphia about this. She explained that they throw away partially-used toiletries for "hygiene reasons," even though they're perfectly good. We talked about how they could implement a system for guests to opt out entirely, save the hotel money on purchasing and disposal costs. Don't know if anything came of it, but at least I planted the idea.
Transportation is the biggest challenge. Flying generates enormous carbon emissions, but at my age, I'm not taking buses across the country to visit family. My compromise is to travel less frequently but stay longer when I do. Instead of quick weekend trips, I plan longer visits that justify the environmental cost of getting there.
Discovered train travel a few years ago when I went to visit friends in Washington D.C. The train from Boston takes longer than flying but it's surprisingly comfortable, and you arrive right downtown instead of some distant airport. Plus you can see the countryside change gradually instead of just disappearing above the clouds then reappearing somewhere else. Made me think about how much we've lost by treating travel as something to get through as quickly as possible instead of part of the experience.
Food waste during travel used to be terrible. Restaurant portions are huge, especially for someone my age who doesn't eat as much as I used to. Started bringing those small containers I mentioned, asking servers to pack leftovers immediately instead of letting food sit on my plate while we talked. Most restaurants are happy to accommodate this, and I've had some excellent "leftover lunches" the next day.
Also started seeking out local markets instead of eating every meal in restaurants. Buying fresh fruit, good bread, local cheese, making simple meals that don't require packaging or generate waste. Some of my best travel memories now involve impromptu picnics – eating cherries by a lake in Michigan, sharing homemade cookies with other travelers at a rest stop in Iowa.
The souvenir situation required a complete mindset shift. Used to buy things I didn't really need or want, just because I was somewhere different and they were there. Refrigerator magnets, t-shirts, coffee mugs with city names on them. None of it added real value to my life, and most of it ended up in donation bags eventually.
Now I focus on experiences instead of objects. A concert at a local venue instead of a branded sweatshirt. A cooking class instead of kitchen gadgets I'll never use. A guided nature walk instead of plastic trinkets made overseas. These create lasting memories without generating waste or cluttering up my house.
Started carrying a small repair kit after my reading glasses broke during a trip to Maine. Tiny screwdriver, safety pins, needle and thread, small roll of tape. Being able to fix things instead of having to replace them or do without has been incredibly useful. Fixed a loose button on a restaurant, mended a small tear in my jacket, even helped another traveler repair their broken luggage handle.
The pandemic made everything more complicated from a waste perspective. Suddenly everything was individually wrapped again "for safety," even things that didn't need to be. Disposable masks everywhere, hand sanitizer in single-use packets, pre-packaged everything. Felt like we'd gone backwards a decade in terms of environmental consciousness.
But it also made me think about what precautions are actually necessary versus what's just habit or convenience dressed up as health measures. Do airplane snacks really need to be in sealed packages? Are those individually-wrapped wet wipes at hotel entrances actually protecting anyone? Sometimes I think we use safety as an excuse to avoid dealing with waste reduction.
My approach isn't perfect. Last year I visited my granddaughter who's in college in California, and even with all my preparation, I still ended up with more disposable items than I would have liked. College towns seem designed around convenience culture – everything is grab-and-go, single-use, throw-away. Made me realize how much our environment shapes our consumption habits, even when we're trying to be mindful.
But I'm making progress. My travel footprint is probably a quarter of what it was before I started paying attention. My suitcase is lighter, my trips are more intentional, and I'm connecting with places and people in ways that don't depend on buying things or consuming resources.
The real change isn't just about avoiding waste during the trip itself. It's about <a href="https://zeroemissionjourney.com/eco-friendly-travel-planning-and-experiencing-a-low-impact-vacation/"><a href="https://zeroemissionjourney.com/eco-friendly-travel-planning-and-experiencing-a-low-impact-vacation/">approaching travel with a different mindset</a></a> altogether. Instead of seeing destinations as places to consume experiences and buy things, I try to visit them more respectfully. Learn a few words of the local language. Understand local customs around waste and recycling. Support businesses that are genuinely trying to operate sustainably instead of just using "eco-friendly" as a marketing term.
My travel memories now are less about what I bought and more about what I learned. Watching an elderly woman in a small Vermont town efficiently preserve vegetables from her garden, using techniques her grandmother probably taught her. Talking with a hotel owner in Virginia about how he'd transitioned his property to solar power and composting. These conversations happen when you're paying attention to how places actually work instead of just passing through as a tourist.
The hardest part is dealing with other people's reactions. Some family members think I'm being unnecessarily difficult when I bring my own containers or decline plastic bags. Travel companions sometimes get frustrated with my "inconvenient" choices, like walking to restaurants instead of driving or choosing the locally-owned cafe over the chain restaurant.
I get it. Change is uncomfortable, especially when you're supposed to be relaxing on vacation. But for me, traveling in a way that aligns with my values actually is more relaxing. I'm not constantly generating waste that makes me feel guilty. I'm not contributing to problems that my grandchildren will have to solve.
Plus, many of the changes save money. Bringing my own snacks and drinks instead of buying overpriced airport food. Staying in smaller accommodations that cost less than chain hotels. Walking or using public transportation instead of taxis and rental cars. The financial savings aren't why I started doing this, but they're a nice bonus on a fixed income.
Looking ahead, I'm planning trips that prioritize environmental responsibility as much as interesting destinations. Visiting my nephew in Oregon by train next summer, even though it'll take two days each way. Planning a longer stay with friends in North Carolina so I can drive there instead of flying. These choices require more planning and flexibility, but they align with what I think is important.
My granddaughter Emma asked me recently why I care so much about this when I "won't be around to see the worst effects of climate change." That hit me hard, because she's probably right about the timeline. But that's exactly why I care. I want to be able to tell my grandchildren that I tried to change, that I didn't just keep living the same wasteful way because it was easier or because I figured someone else would solve the problems.
Travel at its best should expand our understanding and create connections across cultures. But the way most Americans travel – consuming and discarding our way through other places – is the opposite of that. We're treating the world like a theme park designed for our convenience instead of engaging with it respectfully.
I'm still learning, still making mistakes, still figuring out how to balance the value of travel with its environmental costs. But I'm doing it more thoughtfully now, with greater awareness of my impact and more intentionality about my choices. That feels like progress, even if it's not perfect.
The small stone from a beach in Cape Cod sitting on my windowsill reminds me that the best souvenirs don't cost anything and don't take up space in landfills. They're the memories of places and people that changed how I see the world, experiences that stay with me long after the disposable stuff would have been forgotten.
Donna’s retired but not slowing down. She spends her days gardening, reusing, and finding peace in simpler living. Her writing blends reflection with realism—gentle reminders that sustainability starts at home, in daily habits and quiet choices.
