The Art of Going Away

You Don’t Need an Itinerary for Every Hour

I’m not against plans. I rather like a good plan. I just don’t think every minute needs one.

Know where you’re staying. Have a vague idea of where you’d like to eat. Perhaps book the one restaurant you would be genuinely disappointed to miss.

Then leave some space. Because the best parts of a trip rarely arrive exactly when scheduled.

You might find a little street you hadn’t noticed. Sit down for a drink and stay for two. Take a wrong turn. Find a beach that wasn’t on the list. Or spend an entire afternoon doing very little at all.

That’s not wasted time. That’s the holiday.

Stop Trying to See Everything

I’ve never understood the desire to return from a city break looking as though you’ve completed a military operation. Seven museums. Four neighbourhoods. Three churches. A market. A rooftop. A hidden bar that apparently everyone knows about.

By Sunday evening you’re sitting on the plane trying to remember where you actually were.

I’d rather see less and enjoy it more. One neighbourhood properly. One long lunch. One beautiful street walked without checking Google Maps every thirty seconds.

You don’t have to conquer a city. It will still be there.

Wear the Dress Twice

This may be controversial. You do not need a completely new outfit for every photograph.

There. I’ve said it.

Take the dress you love. Wear it again. Nobody cares. And if someone does notice, they’ll probably just think you have excellent taste.

I actually think there’s something much more appealing about a holiday wardrobe that feels like you rather than a collection of outfits assembled specifically for a camera. A great pair of trousers. A favourite shirt. A dress you know works. Sandals. Swimwear. A jacket for the evening. A few pieces you can combine without thinking too hard.

That’s enough. The suitcase doesn’t need to look like a department store.

Leave the Phone in the Bag

Not always. I’m not suggesting we abandon technology and start writing postcards by candlelight. Take photographs. Of course. You’ll want them later.

But there is a strange moment when documenting the experience starts replacing the experience itself. You arrive somewhere beautiful and immediately look at it through a screen. You sit down for dinner and photograph the table before anyone eats. You watch the sunset while worrying about whether the sunset looks better in portrait mode.

At some point, put the phone away.

Look at the view. Actually taste the wine. Listen to the conversation. Let something happen that exists only in your memory.

You don’t need evidence for everything.

Find Your Place

One of my favourite things to do when I’m somewhere new is to find one place I want to return to. A café. A little bar. A restaurant. A stretch of beach. A bench with a particularly good view.

Somewhere that becomes familiar. Because there’s something lovely about returning to the same place when you’re technically still a stranger.

The waiter recognises you. You know which table you want. You don’t need to look at the menu.

And suddenly the destination feels slightly less like a holiday and slightly more like somewhere you could imagine living. Even if you’re only there for five days.

Some of the Best Days Are Unremarkable

This is the part nobody puts on the itinerary. A slow morning. A swim. Lunch that lasted too long. A walk with no particular destination. A book. A nap. Getting ready for dinner while music is playing.

Nothing extraordinary happened. And yet those are often the days you remember.

Perhaps because you weren’t trying to make them memorable. They simply were.

Come Home Slightly Different

I don’t mean reinvent yourself. You don’t need to return from Ibiza having discovered your true purpose. A holiday doesn’t need to change your life.

But perhaps it can change something small. A new favourite colour. A different way of dressing. A restaurant you want to recreate at home. A slower morning. The decision to leave your phone in another room sometimes. A reminder that you quite like wandering without knowing where you’re going.

Take something home with you that isn’t in your suitcase.