Pre-social media, there were dinner party destinations. Places people traveled to seemingly just so they could drop the name at the next gathering. Back in the early 2000’s, when I was managing a luxury tour company in London, people would call and tell me they wanted to go to Bhutan. When I asked why, they were stumped. Everyone was talking about this “last utopia,” this “last Shangri-La” that gave it its sheen, but no one actually knew why one went there.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing—at least there was still intrigue, magic, and mysticism about a place. These days with social media, those “must-do” destinations are so much more in-your-face. There seems to be little originality in travel; it’s all about following the herd. One must be seen in “the” destination with the sole purpose of taking a photo and getting likes. It seems that no one actually travels to enjoy a place anymore. Taking that perfect shot for Instagram and wherever possible inserting the “me” and “I” into the picture and the content—there’s no trivia or facts or any capture of the mood or the moment other than a pose and a faux smile.
When I travel for work, I am insatiable. I will spend at least a week in destinations such as Agra, Varanasi, Calcutta, Udaipur—the list goes on, and no stone is left unturned. I may be up at 5:00 AM for a bike ride, followed by breakfast at some unique place, lunch with an art collector, an afternoon arts and crafts experience, and an evening cooking demonstration. And so the days go.
But when I travel for pleasure, not work, I do no research. None. Not one little bit. I went to visit a friend in Barcelona for a week and had no idea what one “did” there or what one “should” see. I simply went. Each morning when Jamie asked what I wanted to do that day, I simply shrugged, smiled, and replied, “Whatever you have planned.” It took a while for him to get used to it, but once he realized that I didn’t have a list of must-dos and was genuinely happy going with their flow, he settled into it.
One day we did a lovely clifftop walk and discovered a beautiful private cove. Another day we went out for lunch that lasted all day. Another day we sauntered around the city, just looking at what we came across. One day we stayed home and watched movies. What I enjoyed on each of these days was just being happy in the moment. No stressful agenda that meant I was terrified of missing out on something. I was with friends in a beautiful place, and we were enjoying each other’s company and whatever else we happened to discover. Simple as that.
When I got back, people asked if I’d seen La Sagrada Familia, or the Gothic Quarter, or the Picasso Museum—and I hadn’t. “Oh, but you should,” they decreed. “Oh, you’ve missed out. Oh, what a shame.” But truly, what’s the shame? That I didn’t follow their expectations? Well no, I didn’t. It was my holiday. I did what I wanted to do and didn’t give two hoots about fulfilling other people’s expectations of what they thought I should have done.
I had a wonderful holiday and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Isn’t that the purpose of a trip?
Later this month, I’m going to Moscow. I’ve done the same—as in, I’ve done nothing. No research, zip, diddly squat, nowt. I’m going with friends, one who knows the city well and one who’s a first-timer like me and who has had great fun researching and planning. Me? I’ll just do whatever they decide to do. I am traveling with no expectations other than knowing I’m going to have a great time catching up with good friends.
We may see the main sights, whatever they are—we may not. If we don’t, I won’t know what I’ve missed. If we do, I will no doubt enjoy them. Regardless, I will discover things I had no idea were there. And that, for me, is what travel is: a journey of discovery, leaving things to chance, going with the flow, and enjoying simply being in the moment.
I have spent much of my life planning holidays for other people. This has involved a lot of research and a lot of travel and more research. Itineraries are planned down to the smallest detail, with virtually nothing left to chance. I’ve spent years persuading people not just to do what’s on the tick list and also to slow it down, to take time, to have some spare time for a bit of spontaneity—whether that is to chill by a pool and read a book or to go back and visit something you drove by but didn’t have time to stop at.
I often wonder about the tick list, this list of essentials that people have to see. Do people actually want to see those iconic things and therefore follow the archetypal tour, or are they just doing what they think they should because that’s what everyone does, and so they must too? And if it’s just following the herd, which much of it is, then if you did break the mold, isn’t it just possible that you might end up doing things you actually want to do rather than being stressed about cramming in all the things you think you should see?
And who dictates what you should see? Popular opinion. But what if you didn’t follow it—would people think any less of you? And if they do, who cares? People with no more imagination than to follow the herd think less of you. So what? Ironically, wouldn’t this create opportunities to discover somewhere or something that not everyone has seen? And wasn’t that the point of travel in the first instance—to experience something different?
In the old days, the journey was the travel; the destination was almost a by-product. I’m reading a book right now about Leh—people traveling from Leh to Srinagar by horse, staying at rest houses en route. The journey, the process of getting from A to B, was the travel. The destination was almost irrelevant.
Perhaps it’s time we recaptured some of that spirit—the joy of wandering without expectation, of discovering without an agenda, of experiencing without the pressure to document. Perhaps then we might rediscover what travel truly means.
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