The sloping streets of Silves, a historic city in the Algarve region of Portugal, wound on. I made my way up towards its Moorish castle, with my parents and younger sister in tow. As she does with most outings, my mother had crammed a backpack full of supplies, which we inevitably alternated between the four of us.

Eventually, we reached the hilltop fortress – one of the best preserved Moorish structures in the entire region. Once known as the “Baghdad of the West,” Silves was a prominent centre for Islamic arts, culture and politics in the 11th century. This heritage is part of the reason why we chose to come to Portugal.

As it does most years, the idea for a family holiday had been floated towards the start of the summer. I had very little faith that anything would come of it at first. But with my sister, Madina, soon starting her foundation training as a junior doctor, I knew the opportunity could become even less likely in the future.

In early July, the two of us arranged a video call, during which we secretly booked flights and an Airbnb in Faro, Portugal for the four of us towards the end of the month.

The only other time we had all been away on a holiday abroad together – not counting trips to visit family in Europe or the US – was to Turkey in 2016, after much insistence on mine and Madina’s part. We booked a week-long package holiday to Side in Antalya. It ended with me returning to the UK on crutches, having tripped over some steps at our hotel in the first 72 hours. Safe to say, the bar hadn’t been set very high.

I had often wondered why travel felt like such an ordeal for our family. The intention was always there, but my parents were missing the confidence and initiative needed to manage the logistics of travel to new and distant places.

I’m convinced their displacement from Afghanistan in the 1970s has something to do with it.

After arriving in London, they founded their own community organisation, working directly with the Afghan diaspora and signposting support for housing, asylum cases, translation and other administrative tasks. They also hosted regular conferences, social events and arts and culture workshops. It was their way of staying connected to Afghanistan. However, understandably, it left little room for travel or holidays abroad.

Incidentally, we ended up discussing this exact subject during our first breakfast in Faro. “Holidays aren’t really a tradition among Afghan families,” my mother said. “Picnics and visiting family abroad became our version of a holiday.”

For many in the diaspora in my parents’ generation, the idea of travelling to unfamiliar places to explore or simply relax seems more a fantasy than an actual possibility, a thought to entertain but only when held at a safe distance.

Certainly, for some it simply won’t be financially viable. For others, it’s seen as a luxury and indulgence – something that is hard to justify when so many around the world have so little.

While it’s important to remain conscious of these global issues, this constant comparison between your own privileged situation and that of those less fortunate can also lead to extreme feelings of guilt, low self-worth and an inability to live life to the fullest.

By fixating on these disparities through the lens of helplessness, you start to diminish your own needs as well as Allah’s ﷻ blessings.

Alhamdulillah, I’ve been lucky enough to visit almost 60 countries, mostly through backpacking on a budget and volunteering. I don’t take this privilege lightly, but it took a long time to stop feeling guilty for my love of travel.

According to author and therapist, Sahaj Kaur Kohli, these feelings can be defined as “thriver’s guilt.” Especially common among the children of refugees and immigrants, they are a direct result of having access to opportunities not enjoyed by our parents and the generations that came before us.

Over time, my parents started to understand my life choices when it came to travel a bit better. They have seen how it’s both built my confidence and grown my faith. And I, in turn, have been trying to get them out of their comfort zones more.

On one of the days in Portugal, I booked us all a kayaking tour around the caves of Benagil. My mother was especially nervous at first, but she soon got the hang of it. My parents’ kayak fell behind a number of times among the group, but they still gave it their best effort and embraced the new experience.

Madina and I shared the planning and itinerary-forming between us, and I would typically guide us around the various spots we visited.

On the final afternoon before our evening flight home, we took the ferry to Faro Island, one of the sand spits connected to Ria Formosa Natural Park.

We didn’t have enough time to swim, but my dad purchased a large beach towel from a vendor near the dock. He laid it out near the water, and the four of us reclined, toes buried in the sand. My mother started playing some songs by the late Ahmad Zahir, a well-loved singer who was dubbed the “Elvis of Afghanistan.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched my parents take in the scenery – the crashing waves, the seagulls soaring overhead, the windsurfers gliding in the distance. I knew that in that moment they were craving home. Home, not in the physical sense, but in what Afghanistan represented for them – peace, safety, belonging. They left all that behind, the country itself changed and bled, and yet their love for that land will never leave them.

Portugal will never be Afghanistan, but I hope that in that moment they felt a sliver of peace. My parents have sacrificed so much for our family and the wider community. Planning a trip abroad with them every once in a while and giving them a chance at respite is the least I can do.

Adventures abroad don’t have to be extravagant or luxury affairs. Travel can be done affordably, but more than that, it can offer healing. Whether abroad or not, I pray we keep prioritising our time together, because as humans we all need quality time with loved ones.

Barely a week into being home, my parents were already asking about the next trip. I like the idea of taking them to more places with unexpected Islamic history, such as Bulgaria or Romania. And beyond that, I have faith that, inshaAllah, one day we will get to visit Afghanistan together. What an unrivalled family holiday that would be!