There are nights when the best roof over you is a star-filled sky. I’ve slept in hotels with thread counts worth more than dinner, and there’s nothing—and I mean nothing—like the quiet wonder of an unexpected evening outside, snuggled into a blanket, looking into the kind of darkness resembling velvet. You don’t have to be an adventure-hardy backpacker or have a tent worth as much as a car. Sometimes, an unexpected moment and a soft spot on the ground are all you need.

The Balcony in Santorini

It was a joke at first. “Let’s spend the night out here,” I told him, wine glass in one hand, feet on a crumbling stone balcony, and staring out over the Aegean Sea. The air was balmy and quiet, and the view? Unbelievable. Our tiny room boasted a bed, naturally, but the balcony boasted something better: quiet, ocean breeze, and every now and then, a flash of laughter from down in the town. We pulled out every cushion on the balcony, stacked them with beach blankets, and just. Stayed. It hadn’t been on our plan at all. But it was perfect.

Safari Roof Tent in Namibia

The nights are wide and wild in Namibia. In a fit of optimism, we hired a 4×4 with a roof tent, hoping it would make game parks convenient. What we failed to anticipate was how indulgent it would feel to sit above the savannah, zip ourselves into a size-zero cocoon, listening to the rumble of lions in the distance as a low, soothing drone. One evening, we pulled over just outside a tiny village. There was no campsite, only a dry riverbed nearby, where we parked and climbed up and left the stars as our ceiling. Never will I forget how much they shone. No noise, no pollution. Just being there.

A Beach in the Philippines

You sometimes sleep where you find yourself. Missing the final boat off a very small island in the Philippines, we were able to get a spot on the beach from a local family. They gave us a hammock and a coconut. I slept in the sand instead. A breeze kept bugs off, waves lapped against the shore, and I used my scarf as a pillow. It was not planned, and it was some of the best sleep ever.

Rain Station Bench in Norway

All starry sleepovers are not idylls. Some, on occasion, are merely practical. We rolled into Bergen late and missed the bus. The station had long closed, its ticket window dark, its platforms empty. A covered bench provided us with shelter from the drizzle. We wrapped ourselves in coats, pulled our hoods forward, and made do. This evening, I learned that comfort is not always plush—it’s also about flexibility, maybe about humor.

A Vineyard in Italy

Semi-sanctioned, this one. We’d arranged a wine tasting that morphed into dinner that morphed into “Would you like to camp on the property?” Uh, yes. We slept on yoga mats in the grass, bellies full of Chianti and pasta tossed by hand. I awakened to grape-scented air and sky ablaze with peach and lavender. It was such a simplicity—just us and the vineyard and sunrise.

You don’t require a 12-step checklist or Everest-tested equipment. What you require is a blanket, a view, and an attitude that lets you keep it simple to make it unforgettable. That’s the beauty of a minimalist mindset—not about doing without, but about doing with purpose. This is not traveling without—it is learning how to say yes to unexpected naps under the stars, choosing a hammock over that luxury hotel, and understanding that sometimes the best sleep is not under a roof.

Because occasionally, a little bit of pain is what leads to a tale you will retell forever.