To the Women Travel Introduced Us To: A Galentine's Love Letter

It's Galentine's season. The time when everyone's posting their friendship photo dumps and writing captions about their day ones.

Ours look a little different.

Because when we think about the women who've shaped our lives most. The ones we call when something big happens, the ones who know our patterns and call us on our stuff, the ones we'd trust with anything — we met most of them on the road.

Three of my (Randi's) closest friends? I met them all abroad. Two in Kyrgyzstan during my Peace Corps service. And one — Alishia — in the Dominican Republic during a teach-English-abroad program that changed both of our lives. (I'll tell you all about that in just a bit.)

Not at home. Not in college. Not through carefully curated networking events or mutual friends who thought we'd "really hit it off."

We met them in foreign countries. In hotel lobbies and language classes and random encounters that shouldn't have mattered but somehow changed everything.

This is a love letter to those women. And to what travel makes possible when you're open to it.

The One Who Started Everything

Dominican Republic, 2010.

We should probably start with how we met each other.

We were both 20-something, freshly graduated, and convinced that teaching English abroad sounded like an adventure. We signed up for the same program in the Dominican Republic — separately, not knowing the other existed.

The program placed us in the same hotel room for orientation.

Random roommate assignment. Complete strangers. "This is Alishia. This is Randi. You're living together for the next few days."

We hit it off immediately.

That first night, we stayed up talking for hours. About why we'd signed up for this. About what we were running toward and what we were running from. About travel and dreams and the terrifying, exhilarating feeling of not knowing what came next.

By morning, we were inseparable.

What happened next:

When the program placed us at our permanent teaching sites, we were assigned to different cities. But a few months in, someone in our program wanted to switch sites — she wanted to be closer to her family, and my site happened to work better for her.

I said yes without hesitation. Because Alishia's new site was only about 1.5 hours away on the guaguas (public buses). Close enough to see each other most weekends.

So that's what we did. Every weekend, one of us would make the trip. We'd explore Santiago or Puerto Plata together. Navigate the chaos of Dominican public transportation. Debrief the week's teaching disasters and small victories. Just be together.

After our contracts ended, we both moved to Santo Domingo for three months in 2011. Then we went our separate ways—different cities, different jobs, different lives.

Here's the wild part:

In our entire 15-year friendship, we've only lived in the same city for five months total.

Three months in Santo Domingo. And then two months in 2016 when Alishia moved to DC in March and I moved from DC to Baltimore in May.

That's it. Five months out of 180.

And yet, she's my best friend. My business partner. The person I talk to most consistently, despite the fact that we've spent 99% of our friendship living in different places.

The lesson we didn't know we were learning:

Travel friendships start with proximity and circumstance. But they last because of choice. We've chosen each other over and over — across time zones, different cities, life changes, and now, a business we're building together despite the distance.

That random hotel room assignment in the DR? That was the beginning of everything.

The Ones You Don't See Coming (Randi)

Kyrgyzstan, 2012.

I joined the Peace Corps thinking I'd make friends with other volunteers. I didn't expect to find two of my closest friends there — or that I'd completely misjudge them at first.

Bri and Ashley.

Bri: The One Who Bonded Me Through Struggle

During our Peace Corps orientation icebreaker, we were asked to talk about something we brought with us to remind us of home.

Bri — a white girl from North Dakota — stood up and proudly showed everyone her Harry Potter wand.

I remember thinking, “we’re not gonna be friends.”

But then we got placed in the same Pre-Service Training group where we would be taking daily Kyrgyz language lessons together with only 1 other volunteer. Which meant we were together for hours every day, struggling through one of the hardest languages any of us had ever attempted. The 3 of us became a little posse quickly, but Bri and I clicked in a way that only women can (sorry Huy…)

There's something about suffering through conjugations and trying to pronounce sounds your mouth doesn't naturally make that bonds people quickly. We'd practice conversations, mess up constantly, laugh at our mistakes, and slowly — without even realizing it — become friends.

Bri wasn't just the girl with the Harry Potter wand. She was resilient and hilarious and the person who made me feel seen and understood when everything around me was new and different. She got the absurdity of what we were doing — learning a language we’d likely never use outside of that experience, living in a place where people stared often because we stood out so much, being homesick and exhilarated at the same time.

The wand thing? It became endearing. A reminder that we all cope with displacement differently, and that's okay.

Fourteen years later, Bri is who I go to when I have a scary health question (she’s a doctor), who I send random pictures to when something reminds of Kyrgyzstan (that no one else will get), and who’s wedding I can’t wait to go to in North Dakota this June.

Ashley: The One I Had to Earn

Ashley was different. I thought she was a "goody two shoes" when I first met her. Too polished. Too excited to “make an impact.” She was 4 years younger than me (the youngest in our program) and I assumed pretty early on that we wouldn't click.

It took about a year before that changed.

She asked if she could stay at my place for a night while working on a project in my village. I said yes, expecting it to be cordial but distant.

Instead, we spent the entire time yapping. About everything. About nothing. About life and teaching and what we were learning about ourselves in this strange, hard, beautiful experience.

That's when I realized: Ashley wasn't a goody two shoes. She was thoughtful and grounded and hilarious in ways I hadn't given her space to show me. I'd misjudged her completely.

We got even closer when we both moved to DC after Peace Corps ended. We started doing monthly lunches — a standing date to catch up, debrief life, stay connected.

We haven't lived in the same city since 2016. But we make a point to stay connected. To choose each other even when it's not convenient. To show up for the big moments and the small ones.

The lesson:

Travel friendships don't follow the normal rules. You don't have months or years to slowly get to know someone. You're thrown together in intense circumstances, and either it clicks or it doesn't.

But sometimes, it takes time. Sometimes you misjudge people and have to give them (and yourself) space to be seen clearly.

When it clicks, though? It's the kind of friendship that lasts.

The Ones You Meet By Accident (Alishia + Randi)

Paris, 2024.

We'd just seen Usher perform in Paris (which was incredible — 5th row seats in an intimate venue, unreal.) The concert ended, and we were sitting outside the venue on a bench, still buzzing from the show, not quite ready to go back to the hotel.

Two Black women (Chianti and Tirrany) walked by, also clearly coming from the concert, also in that post-show glow.

One of them made a comment about the show. We responded. They sat down.

And we talked. For probably two hours.

We talked about travel, about being Black women in Paris, about Usher (obviously), about the strangeness and beauty of being in a foreign city surrounded by other Black women who were also there by choice, also experiencing joy.

We talked about our shared love of travel. And they mentioned their plans to find the world’s largest croissant the next day and we made tentative plans to meet up with them.

Know how plans can be flaky (especially when you meet strangers in a foreign country), we weren’t sure if we’d actually hear from them with the details of their plans the next day, but we went to bed floating from all the connection, love and good vibes we had just experienced.

The next morning — one of us got a DM from Chianti saying something to the effect of “We’re heading out soon to find the croissant. Y’all still want to come?"

Of course we did.

We spent the afternoon wandering through Paris with these two women we'd known for all of twelve hours, on a quest for a legendary massive croissant. We found it (it was, in fact, absurdly large and absolutely worth it). We laughed. We yapped. We turned a random encounter into a memory we still talk about.

And here's the thing:

We're still in touch with Chianti and Tirrany. Not every day. Not even every month. But we check in. We follow each other's travels on Instagram. We send each other messages of support when we see each other out here #winning.

That two-hour conversation on a bench became a friendship. Not a best friendship—we don't have that kind of proximity—but a real one. The kind where you genuinely care about the other person's life and well-being even though you've only spent a few hours together.

The lesson:

Not every travel friendship has to be life-changing to be meaningful. Some friendships are beautiful precisely because they're brief but deep. Because they exist in a specific moment and don't require anything beyond that.

Chianti and Tirrany are a part of our story. Part of why we believe in what travel can create between strangers.

What Travel Reveals About Friendship

After over 15 years of making friends on the road here's what we've learned:

1. Travel accelerates intimacy.

You can spend five days traveling with someone and know them better than people you've known for five years at home.

Why? Because travel strips away the performance. You see each other tired, hungry, frustrated, lost. You see how someone handles conflict, stress, joy. You can't hide.

That's terrifying. But it's also why travel friendships feel so real.

2. Shared context creates unbreakable bonds.

There's something about going through the same experience (navigating a foreign city, figuring out how to communicate in a language you don't speak, being homesick together) that creates a bond you can't manufacture any other way.

When Randi texts Bri, she doesn't have to explain the Kyrgyz struggle. When she talks to Ashley, the Peace Corps references land immediately. When we talk about the DR, we're immediately back there—riding guaguas, navigating our teaching placements, laughing at how young we were.

Shared context is powerful. It's why travel friendships often outlast friendships formed in easier circumstances.

3. Not all travel friendships are meant to last—and that's okay.

We've met incredible people while traveling who we never talked to again after the trip ended. And that's not sad. It's just the nature of it.

Some friendships are meant for a season, a moment, a specific experience. They don't have to last forever to matter.

Chianti and Tirrany are somewhere in between—not our closest friends, but not strangers either. And that's perfect.

4. The best travel friendships are built on acceptance, not expectation.

When we met in the DR, we weren't trying to be best friends. We were just trying to survive orientation.

When Randi met Bri and Ashley, she wasn't looking for lifelong friends. She was just trying to get through Peace Corps training.

When we met Chianti and Tirrany, we weren't networking or trying to build our circles. We were just enjoying a moment.

The friendships that lasted weren't forced. They just... happened. Because the conditions were right. Because we were open. Because we didn't need anything from each other except presence.

5. Choosing each other again and again is what makes it last.

Proximity creates the friendship. Distance tests it. Choice sustains it.

Randi chose to move her Peace Corps site to be closer to Alishia when the opportunity came up.

We choose each other every day—despite living in different cities for 99% of our 15-year friendship, running separate businesses, having full lives that don't naturally intersect.

Randi chooses to stay connected with Bri and Ashley even though they haven't lived in the same city in years.

That's the part people don't talk about. Travel introduces you. But what keeps you together is deciding, over and over, that this person matters.

6. Shared travel experiences fortify and enrich friendship like nothing else.

Here's something Alishia and I have noticed… our friendship deepens most when we travel together.

There's something about being in a foreign place, navigating it side by side, that strips away the day-to-day noise. We see each other more clearly. We understand each other better. We create memories that become the foundation of our relationship.

Every trip we take together, whether it's a weekend in a new city or two weeks abroad, adds another layer. Another inside joke. Another moment of "remember when we..." that only we understand.

That's why we're so passionate about what we're building with Black On Arrival. Because we know, firsthand, what shared travel can do for friendship. How it can deepen existing bonds and create new ones.

Why This Matters for Black On Arrival

When people ask us why we're so obsessed with building community through travel, this is why.

Because we've lived it.

We know what can happen when you put the right people in the right space at the right time. When you create conditions for connection instead of forcing it.

We're not building "just another group trip company." We're building opportunities for the kind of friendships that change your life.

Maybe your trip-mates become your best friends. Maybe they become your business partners (hey, it worked for us). Maybe they become the people you check in with a few times a year and feel genuinely happy to hear from.

Or maybe they become a beautiful, brief chapter in your story. A reminder that the world is full of women who will sit on a bench with you for hours, help you find the world's largest croissant, and cheer for your wins.

All of it matters.

A Galentine's Tribute

So this Galentine's Day, we're celebrating:

Alishia, who was randomly assigned to be my roommate 15 years ago and became my person. Who I keep choosing to be close to. Who's been my best friend for past 15 years despite only living in the same city for five months total.

Me (Randi), who Alishia connected with instantly and who's been choosing her back ever since. Across cities, time zones, and everything in between.

Bri, who Randi thought she'd never be friends with (Harry Potter wand and all) and who became one of her closest friends through hours of struggling through Kyrgyzstan together.

Ashley, who Randi misjudged as a goody two shoes until one night of yapping revealed who she really was. And who's been making a point to stay connected ever since, even from different cities.

Chianti and Tirrany, who turned a random bench conversation outside an Usher concert into an adventure we're still smiling about.

And all the other women travel has introduced us to along the way—the ones who stayed, the ones who didn't, and the ones who exist somewhere beautifully in between.

To the women travel gives you:

Thank you for showing up. For being open. For choosing us back. For proving that friendship doesn't require years of history or even living in the same city. Sometimes it just requires presence, honesty, and a willingness to sit on a bench and talk.

And to the women reading this:

If you've been craving this. The kind of connection that forms when you're navigating something new with women who just get it — we're building that with Black On Arrival.

Not guaranteed best friendships. We can't promise that.

But we can promise this: small groups of Black women. Ease-first travel. Space to be yourself. And the conditions for something real to happen.

Maybe your trip-mate becomes your Bri. Your Ashley. Your Alishia.

Or maybe she just becomes part of your story. Someone you're glad you met. Someone who made the trip better just by being there.

Either way, it matters.

Chicago: June 4-8, 2026
Mexico City: November 5-9, 2026
Cape Town: Jan/Feb 2027

Join us. You never know who you'll meet. 🤎

Randi Williams and Alishia Richardson are the co-founders of Black On Arrival, a boutique travel company creating ease-first group experiences for Black women. They met in the Dominican Republic in 2011, became instant friends, and 15 years later are building a business together—despite only living in the same city for five months of their entire friendship. Proof that distance is just geography when you choose each other.

Join our waitlist for 2026 trips to Chicago, Mexico City, and Cape Town.