8 easygoing destinations first-timers love — and repeat travelers keep returning to

Some places just feel like a green light.

You land, breathe out, and everything—from transit to finding great plant-based food—falls into place.

Here are eight destinations I keep recommending to first-timers…and that seasoned travelers (me included) can’t seem to quit.

I lean on a simple filter: is it calm to navigate, kind to newcomers, and rich enough to reward a second, third, or tenth trip? That’s the list below, written the way I travel—curious, light, and always hungry.

1. Lisbon, Portugal

Lisbon is a soft launch into Europe.

English is widely spoken, trams rumble through photogenic hills, and the neighborhoods—Baixa, Alfama, Chiado—each feel like mini-villages.

It’s also an easy city for slow mornings and golden-hour walks along the Tagus.

For first trips, ride a vintage tram once, then switch to your feet. Lisbon rewards wandering: tile murals, miradouros (lookout points), and cafés that won’t rush you. Plant-based eats are everywhere now—grab a bifana-style mushroom sandwich or a pastel de nada (the vegan custard tarts are getting good).

Why I keep going back: the rhythm. Lisbon has this unhurried confidence—sun, Atlantic breezes, music spilling from doorways—that makes you think, “I could live here.” Each return lets you peel back another layer: a new azulejo museum wing, a dinner in Mouraria, a day trip to Cascais.

Mindset nudge: When I catch myself over-planning Lisbon, I remember his point that meaning comes from within. I close the tab, step outside, and let the city show me what I actually came for.

2. Amsterdam, Netherlands

Amsterdam is where urban grace meets small-town ease.

Canals are your compass, bike bells the soundtrack, and the whole city seems designed for people first. First-timers love how intuitive it feels: buy a transit card once, float between neighborhoods (De Pijp for food, Jordaan for charm, Oost for parks), and build a day around one anchor—say, the Van Gogh Museum—then meander.

Vegan choices are plentiful, from bitterballen remixed with pea protein to Indonesian rijsttafel with plant-based sambals.

Why repeat travelers return: seasonality changes everything. Tulips and terraces in spring, museum-hopping and cozy cafés in winter. You start picking “your” bridge and “your” canal bench, and the city becomes a friend you know by first name.

Mindset nudge: On my last visit, I noticed how easy it is to perform “perfect traveler.” His insights nudged me toward authenticity over perfection. So I ditched a packed itinerary and spent an hour people-watching on the Prinsengracht. Zero FOMO. Maximum joy.

3. Kyoto, Japan

Kyoto is calm by design.

Shrines tucked in cedar forests, bamboo groves that hush you without asking, matcha everything. For newbies, it’s a gentle entry to Japan: trains are punctual, signage is clear, and people are unfailingly helpful. You bow, you say “arigatou,” doors open.

Base near the Keihan or Hankyu lines so you can jump between temples and ramen in minutes. Plant-based dining has leveled up—look for shōjin ryōri (Buddhist temple cuisine) or a modern vegan katsu at small counter joints.

Return appeal: time of year changes everything. Plum blossoms vs. maple fire, snow-sprinkled torii vs. cicadas and iced coffee. Kyoto holds your attention without raising its voice.

4. Vancouver, Canada

Vancouver is the introvert’s gateway to the great outdoors.

City conveniences, mountain drama, ocean light—pick your mood. First-timers can spend a day in neighborhoods (Commercial Drive latte, Mount Pleasant thrift, Gastown history) and the next on a tree-lined seawall circumnavigating Stanley Park. Transit is simple, bike lanes are plentiful, and there’s always a view.

You can do elevated plant-based tasting menus one night and grab a post-hike banh mi the next. Grocery scene = picnic heaven: berries in summer, hot soups in rain season.

Why people keep returning: micro-adventures. Each trip folds in a new chapter—Lynn Canyon suspension bridge, a ferry to Bowen Island, or cherry blossoms drifting through Kitsilano. Vancouver works like a Swiss Army knife: compact, capable, unexpectedly elegant.

Mindset nudge: When weather flips (and it will), I hear his line about emotions being messengers. Rain disappointment? It’s just a note: slow down. So I swap a summit for a sauna and feel just as restored.

5. Oaxaca, Mexico

Oaxaca has range.

It’s laid-back enough for a first passport stamp and layered enough to keep you coming back for years. The historic center feels like a living room—zócalo buzzing, street art blooming, church bells marking time.

For food-motivated travelers, Oaxaca is a pilgrimage. Markets overflow with moles (try negro and coloradito), tlayudas with grilled mushrooms and avocado, and aguas frescas you’ll daydream about later. Many restaurants are clearly labeled with vegan options; some are fully plant-based and fearless with local ingredients.

What brings me back: craft and community. Each return visit pulls me into another workshop—textiles in Teotitlán del Valle, black pottery in San Bartolo Coyotepec—or out to Hierve el Agua at sunrise. Oaxaca invites you to linger, listen, and learn, not just consume.

Mindset nudge: His reminder to question everything you believe turns every mezcal tasting and artisan visit into a tiny unlearning. Ask, listen, pay fairly, and let the story be bigger than your assumptions.

6. Copenhagen, Denmark

Copenhagen is ergonomic happiness.

Everything—from bike lanes to bakery lines—just…works. It’s an ideal first dip into Scandinavia because the city is compact, English is widespread, and the design-forward culture makes daily life feel art-directed.

Spend your first day doing the “classic loop”: Nyhavn’s color stack, the Round Tower, a canal cruise, and a picnic in the King’s Garden. On day two, live like a local: rent a bike, café-hop, and take a dip at Islands Brygge harbor baths if the sun cooperates.

Plant-based menus are thoughtful rather than performative. Expect rye-bread open sandwiches with beet “herring,” cardamom buns, and seasonal, vegetable-led tasting menus that feel like a conversation with the farmer.

Return reason: hygge isn’t one-and-done. Come in winter for candles and wool, in summer for late sunsets and park games. The repeat joy is noticing tiny improvements—a new public square, another car-free street—turning ease into an ethos.

Mindset nudge: In a city this put-together, it’s tempting to chase a flawless day. His words pulled me back to real life, reminding me that you’re already whole—even if you spill coffee on your sweater before the photo.

7. Taipei, Taiwan

Taipei feels like a friend who texts back fast.

It’s wildly approachable: airport MRT into town, contactless metro, night markets with clear signage, and locals who will walk you to a place rather than point. As a gateway to East Asia, it lowers the learning curve without sanding off the culture.

If you’re plant-based, Taipei is a playground. Taiwan’s Buddhist roots mean vegetarian and vegan eateries are abundant—buffet-style canteens, inventive noodle shops, soy milk breakfast stalls. I still think about a scallion pancake layered with basil and chili oil that I devoured on a rainy night near Yongkang Street.

Why I revisit: hot springs and hill walks. One weekend you’re in Beitou soaking; the next, you’re hiking Elephant Mountain for a sunset skyline. Taipei’s pace—efficient but never frantic—feels like a nervous system reset.

Mindset nudge: Night markets can be overstimulating if you’re sensitive to crowds. The book inspired me to treat that rush as information, not failure—emotions are messengers, not enemies. Ten minutes of quiet in Daan Park, and I’m good as new.

8. Ubud, Bali (Indonesia)

Ubud is the soft center of Bali.

Yes, it’s popular. It’s also popular for a reason. Terraced rice fields, jungle mornings, café culture that treats vegetables with respect, and a wellness scene that can be as simple as a silent walk or as structured as a yoga retreat.

First-timers appreciate how predictable the days can be: sunrise light show, fresh fruit breakfast, a temple stop, a nap, a long lunch, an afternoon scooter ride, an early night. If you don’t scooter, no stress—walkable pockets and ride-hailing apps make logistics simple.

I learned to slow down here. One afternoon, watching rain drum banana leaves, I realized my to-do list could wait and my tea didn’t need to be hot to be perfect. That small shift followed me home.

Why repeat visitors return: community and nature evolve with you. You can come back to the same café and notice a new mural, revisit a path in Tegallalang and find a quieter fork. Ease becomes ritual.

Mindset nudge: On a retreat day, I underlined another of his ideas: reality is more flexible than you think. Change your beliefs, change your world. Ubud makes that feel possible.

A quick word on why “easygoing” matters

“Easy” isn’t code for boring. It’s a design choice—cities and towns that remove friction so we can notice more. When the basics are simple—wayfinding, food, safety—our attention is free to shift from survival to connection.

That’s also why I’ve been talking about my latest favorite book Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life lately.

I’ve mentioned it before because it keeps giving me language for what travel actually does. His insights echo in small moments: choosing presence over perfection in Amsterdam; letting my body set the pace in Kyoto; welcoming rain in Vancouver without deciding the day is “ruined.”

It’s not a travel book, but it’s a brilliant travel companion for your inner world.

How to use this list (and the mindset that goes with it)

Pick one and go.

Let the city set the pace, not your calendar. Start with a long walk, one museum (or temple or market), and one meal you’ll tell friends about.

Then leave room for the thing you didn’t plan—because that’s usually the story you’ll keep.

If you want a mindset that pairs beautifully with these easygoing places, consider reading Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life by Rudá Iandê. I just finished it, and the book inspired me to travel with more gentleness and grit at the same time—to question the scripts I carry, listen to my body, and treat emotions as wayfinders rather than roadblocks.

In a world that often asks us to be perfect tourists, his reminder to be real travelers feels like a deep breath.

Because whether it’s Lisbon or Ubud, the path gets smoother when we stop fighting ourselves.

Or, as he puts it, “When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that's delightfully real.” Pack that line with your passport, and you’ll be ready for any of the eight.