A Small Photo and the Family That Never Stopped Moving

A photo of my father on a Merchant Marine ship called the Swarthmore Victory led me to discover that my step-grandfather was born twenty minutes from where I live in the Hudson Valley now, and my grandmother is buried twenty minutes from where I used to live in California. It's why I believe travel isn't a luxury or a risk. It's in the blood, and it's never too late to go.

I found a photo the other day. Maybe two centimeters wide. My father, standing on the deck of a ship called the Swarthmore Victory. On the back, in his handwriting: "Me on the Swarthmore Victory."

I knew he had served in the Merchant Marine. I did not know the name of that ship until I turned the photo over. So I started digging, and went down a rabbit hole.

An hour later I was somewhere completely different, and it opened my eyes to how I look at a lot of things.

Where the story starts

My father, Solie, was born in China. My grandparents had fled Russia during the Russian Revolution, from Siberia, and landed in Shanghai. My grandmother Olga was married off in an arranged marriage to a man named Alexander Ginsberg. I am pretty sure that is who I got my name from. They had three sons: my Uncle Ben, my father Solie, and my Uncle Johnny.

When my grandfather died, Olga remarried a man named William Colling. That is the name I carry now. Sandra Colling.

Here is what stopped me cold. William, the man who shaped my father and whose name I have today, was born about twenty minutes from where I live right now, in the Hudson Valley. I have lived in this area for a couple of years and had no idea.

And on the other side of the country, my grandmother Olga is buried in California, about twenty minutes from where I used to live when I lived out west. I probably drove past that cemetery a hundred times without knowing she was there, resting next to her third husband, Joe Galetto.

East coast, west coast. My family's story landed within a short drive of both places I have called home.

Travel was never really a choice

My step-grandfather William owned a carpet shop in Tientsin, and I love those Chinese carpets. My father crossed oceans for years as a purser in the Merchant Marine. My grandparents fled one country for another to survive. My mother was born in Germany in 1925, studied in Mainz, then went to Paris, where she met my father.

Russia to China. China to a new life. Germany to France. Every branch of this family moved because it had to, or because it was chasing something.

I was born on the fourth of July, 1966, under a full moon with Jupiter (the planet of travel) on my ascendant (if I'm saying that correctly). Two astrologers have told me, in their own way, that I was born to travel and to help other people find their way into the world. I do not know how much weight to put on that. But looking at where I come from, it tracks 10%.

My mother used to tell me I had ants in my pants, that I could never sit still. I built my entire life around getting people out the door. Now I know why. It was never really a choice. It is truly my purpose.

The wall that comes down when you actually take the trip

I think about this every day in my work. There is a gap most people carry, the one that tells them somewhere far away is not safe, not for them, not right now. That gap is built by headlines and social feeds, not by experience.

I do not care if you land in China, Italy, Germany, or somewhere you have never set foot before. People want joy, connection, and laughter. The food is different. The jokes land differently. But the wall people picture from a distance tends to melt the moment they are standing inside the place itself.

I hear the same worries constantly. Is it safe? Can I really go alone? Am I too old for this? I have got forty seven tabs open and no idea where to start.

On safety: most of the countries I send people to are safer than plenty of places right here in the US. On going alone: you are never actually alone unless you choose to be. I was in Iceland not long ago, traveling solo, and I turned down more dinner invitations and coffee dates than I accepted, because I wanted the trip that way.

On age: that one gets under my skin. Most of the women I talk to have spent their whole lives taking care of everyone else. The chauffeur, the banker, the cook, the one who holds it all together. It is not too late. If anything, it is about time.

And on not knowing where to start, closing the laptop at midnight with nothing booked: that is my job. You do not have to become an expert in a country you have never visited. That is what I am here for.

Common questions I hear from women who want to travel

Is it safe to travel to Europe or Asia right now? Most of the countries I send clients to are safer than plenty of places right here at home. Scary stories make the news. A normal afternoon in Germany or France does not. Skip the countries actually in conflict, obviously, but do not let a headline talk you out of a trip that has nothing to do with you.

Is it too late to start traveling at 50, 60, or beyond? No. Most of the women I work with have spent their whole lives taking care of everyone else, the chauffeur, the banker, the cook. It is not too late. It is time.

Can I travel alone as a woman? Yes, and you are never actually alone unless you choose to be. On a recent solo trip to Iceland, I turned down more dinner invitations than I accepted, because I wanted the trip that way. Being alone is a choice, not a sentence.

I don't know where to start planning a trip. What do I do? You do not have to become the expert. That is what a luxury travel advisor is for. Reach out and tell me the country, the feeling, or even just the tabs you have open, and we take it from there.

Why I actually do this

People assume I sell trips. I do, but that is not the real work. The real work is helping a woman close a gap that has kept her stuck, the same gap my family spent generations closing, from Siberia to China to the United States and back across the Atlantic more times than I can count.

A lot of women leave home a little unsure of themselves and come back more confident. I have watched it happen in front of me more times than I can count, and it never gets old.

If there is a trip that has been sitting in the back of your mind, bring the fear with you if you have to. Just go, because the version of the world you are picturing from home is almost never the version that is actually waiting for you.

Come find me in the Facebook group, Luxury Travel Advisor Sandy: Vacations, Group Trips and Hidden Luxury Escapes. We talk about all of this.

And if the Christmas markets in Germany have been on your list, I am leading a small group of eight back to the towns I grew up going to, with the real food and the real streets I remember. Details on my website, or click here.

If you've been dreaming of a trip but don't have the patience for 47 tabs open, reach out here.