THE LIFE BEHIND THE COMPASS.
I’m Ebony—a Chicago hospitalist, discerning traveler and independent voice shaped by 62 countries and counting, seven continents and a life lived fully between departures.
62 COUNTRIES AND COUNTING
7 CONTINENTS
1 FULL-TIME MEDICAL CAREER
THE CURIOSITY CAME FIRST.
Before I knew I wanted to become a doctor—and I knew that by the third or fourth grade—I was fascinated by geography.
My mother gave me an electronic geography toy that taught me countries, flags and the superlatives of the world. Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? was my favorite show. Long before I understood what travel could look like as a life, I knew I wanted to see what existed beyond the part of the world I already knew.
I did not know how to major in Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?, so I chose medicine.
That choice was practical, but it was not only practical. I was drawn to medicine by service, purpose and the opportunity to help people through some of the most consequential moments of their lives. It took years before I had the means to explore the world—and longer still before I could experience it with the comfort and the intention I wanted.
SEVEN DAYS ON. SEVEN DAYS OFF.
As a hospitalist, I generally work seven days and then have seven days away from the hospital. That rhythm taught me how much of the world can fit inside a real life and a finite calendar.
Some trips fit neatly into seven days. Others require switching shifts, extending the window or accepting that two of those days may be spent getting there and back. The number is not a rule. It is a starting point.
Working within those limits made me more discerning. I learned to recognize what deserves my time, where convenience meaningfully improves a trip and which “must-do” can be left undone. A shorter window does not have to produce a lesser journey. It simply makes every choice matter more.
MEDICINE GIVES TIME WEIGHT.
Working in a hospital keeps the limits of time visible. I see how quickly certainty can change and how little control any of us ultimately have over the hourglass.
That knowledge does not make me want to rush through the world. It makes me want to experience it deliberately—to fulfill the dreams that are mine while I still have the ability and opportunity to do so.
Travel restores something that medicine can deplete. It gives me distance, movement and contact with people whose histories, cultures and circumstances are different from my own. Again and again, it reminds me that beneath geography, politics and custom, human beings are far more alike than we are different.
I bring that understanding back to the hospital with me.
LUXURY IS COMFORT.
When I first began traveling, I accepted other people’s definitions of luxury: prestigious names, expensive rooms and experiences that were supposed to impress me.
Experience taught me that luxury is relative. Ultimately, luxury is comfort—and comfort depends on far more than price.
It can mean excellent service, privacy and a beautiful room. It can also mean an extra day, a seamless transfer, enough space to breathe, confidence in your surroundings or the simple freedom to stop performing and exhale.
As a Black queer woman, I have entered expensive spaces where I did not feel comfortable or welcome. I have also entered extraordinary spaces where I felt respected, understood and completely at ease. Price can purchase access. It cannot guarantee belonging.
I have learned to enter the world respectfully while knowing that I belong in it. The people, culture and history of a place deserve care, but no luxury space is reserved for one type of traveler. Confidence, preparation and a clear understanding of what makes you comfortable can transform the experience.
That is the standard I use here. I will tell you when the splurge genuinely improves the journey—and when the name or price is doing more work than the experience.
THE MOVEMENT AND THE RETURN.
I do not want to travel full-time. I do not travel to escape medicine, and I do not practice medicine while merely waiting for the next trip. I need both.
Medicine grounds me. Travel expands me. Each gives me distance from the other, and the movement between them helps protect both from becoming all-consuming.
I can be thrilled to leave, deeply present while I am away and still ready to return—to my patients, my home, my couch and my cat. The departure matters because there is a life worth returning to.
WHY THIS SITE EXISTS.
Be Your Own Compass is for people building a larger world inside an already full life.
It grew from the belief that we can learn from experienced travelers without surrendering our judgment to them. No itinerary, review or definition of luxury should matter more than your own time, priorities, identity and sense of comfort.
The goal is not to travel like me. It is to become more confident traveling like yourself.
Recommendations reflect my own experience and judgment. Any hosted or sponsored experience will be clearly disclosed.