As a young boy, I thought the outside world lived in outer space.
Every summer at my grandma’s house, which sat close to the airport, I’d drag my older cousins to watch planes take off. Morning and evening. One summer, my uncle surprised us — he paid for all of us to actually fly, just for the experience. I remember the excitement. I remember praying at every hint of turbulence. But mostly, I remember being in absolute wonder.
Years later, I took my first international trip to Nice. I stood on the famous Promenade des Anglais and realized: Dreams could be so much bigger than I’d imagined.
From that moment, I knew I’d spend my life in travel. I led groups through Spain, Turkey, the UAE, Portugal — anywhere people gathered to experience somewhere new. And with each journey, I understood something more clearly: wonder is the most honest thing we feel.
A haircut in a little barbershop in Istanbul, where the barber didn’t speak English and we communicated entirely through gesture and laughter. Breaking bread with an Amazigh family in the Atlas Mountains at dusk, no agenda, just presence. Threshing red rice with farmers in Bhutan, your hands covered in earth. Sitting in a school in an Amazon village, watching children thrive in the remotest part of the world.
These weren’t landmarks or bucket-list moments. They were the moments where the gap between strangers dissolved. Where language became irrelevant. Where curiosity — genuine, unguarded curiosity about how someone else lives — became the most human thing we share.
That’s what secretly drives me. That specific alchemy of connection across cultures. The elemental magic of standing in someone else’s world and being welcomed into it.
Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of designing journeys for families and travelers seeking exactly that — genuine access to places and people. Private jets. Chartered yachts. Expeditions into remote worlds. The logistics have grown larger, but the essence has remained the same.
What I’ve learned is this: when you remove the noise, when you strip away the performance, people want exactly what I wanted as a kid watching planes take off. To go somewhere that changes you, even if only in the smallest way. To meet someone who reminds you that the world is far stranger and more beautiful than you imagined.
That’s us. That’s Palanquin.