“Slow travel” has more than its share of advocates. And often, I do love to linger. But in my recent travels, I’m surprised to find myself cultivating a new appreciation for “fast travel.” When you get a quick look at a place, then move on, you travel like an Impressionist…and leave wanting more.
One sunny September evening, I eased my way through sloppy, ungovernable roundabouts as I drove into Prizren, Kosovo — the Ottoman-style historic capital of Europe’s youngest country. I’d had an exhilarating day of travel, starting out in the intense capital city, Prishtinë; joyriding a quick loop through the rugged landscapes of the Accursed Mountains; and visiting a pair of Serbian Orthodox monasteries of such cultural importance that wars have been fought over them.
Even as I was gliding on a traveler’s high, I was pretty beat. The hour was nearing 6:30 p.m., and the hazy orange sun was preparing to abruptly tuck itself behind the peaks that hemmed in the horizon. Navigating my way into Prizren’s town center, I negotiated an unmarked maze of torn-up roads, lucked upon a parking lot where I could ditch my car, ran to my B&B to drop off my bag…then hit the town before dark.
As I rushed double-time down to the main square, past outdoor cafés and the bored guards standing at the gate of the town’s Orthodox church, the call to prayer crackled forth from the soaring minaret of the Sinan Pasha Mosque.
In a matter of minutes, I was stepping out onto Prizren’s Stone Bridge, gracefully spanning the Lumbardh River as it has since the 16th century. While there was still just a hint of light in the sky, I savored a photo safari — wandering up and down the embankments in search of my favorite views of that classic bridge, the exclamatory mosque, the dour citadel slumping over the hilltop, and the distant mountain backdrop.
After dark, I stowed my camera and enjoyed a memorable dinner: a scorch-your-fingers crock of elbasan (or tavë kosi), a traditional dish resembling a cheesy, oven-baked fondue interwoven with delectable bits of tender veal, sopped up with fresh, crispy, rustic bread. Then I enjoyed more strolling and people-watching, picked up a few groceries for breakfast, and got a good night’s sleep.
In the morning, I expected rain but awoke to only clouds. Counting myself lucky, I hiked up to the fortress and enjoyed the panoramas over this historic settlement that so perfectly fills its niche in the mountains. By the time I descended to the main square and nursed a coffee at a tipsy sidewalk table — watching locals stop by the humble landmark fountain for a sip or scrub — the sun made a surprise appearance. After another photo safari, I grabbed my bag, found in my car, and hopped on the highway to North Macedonia.
To be honest, it was hard to pull myself away from this unexpectedly delightful town, after just a few waking hours. Prizren got under my skin, and part of me wished I’d planned more time, maybe even a second night. I’d had only an enticing taste, and it left me wanting more.
But then, I remembered something I’ve learned over a lifetime of travel: Sometimes, it’s not a bad thing to leave wanting more. It’s certainly better than getting tired of a place. And often, a fleeting visit creates the most vivid memories.
I had a lot of those “leave wanting more” experiences on this trip, lacing together an ambitious itinerary through the Balkans — revisiting a few old favorites and finally making it to places I’ve always dreamed about. I had about two weeks for the trip, and when I drew up my preliminary “wish list,” it was clear that I faced a tough choice: Skip half of my list. Or go very, very fast.
I opted for the whirlwind trip. And Prizren was just one of the many stops that left me wanting more. In Belgrade, I had time for just one twilight stroll around Kamerlengen Fortress, overlooking the point where the Danube meets the Sava. During my few hours in Prishtinë, I counted at least a half-dozen cafés and restaurants where I’d like to have nursed a drink or meal. At Lake Ohrid, I never quite captured the perfect sunset rays on the Church of St. Jovan. And in Albania, I scarcely saw Berat — just a quick glimpse on my way to Gjirokastër.
In each case, of course I’d prefer to have lingered — if only I had unlimited time. But here’s the thing: We really don’t have unlimited time, do we? And as I look back, those “too-quick” visits left some indelible impressions that will stick with me forever.
I was in each place just long enough to tease an air of mystery, stoking my imagination to run wild about the potential that hid up each unexplored lane and behind each unentered facade…while sparing me the disappointment of discovering that some of those places would fall short of expectations.
§ § §
I’m not suggesting that “fast travel” is always the best approach. There are many places I can barely pry myself away from: Budapest, London, Ljubljana, Sarajevo, Barcelona… even after a week in these cities, I’d happily double it. And sometimes it’s those tiny, remote places that tempt you to really settle in. That alpine village, perched proudly on its ledge, overlooking a green valley and a panorama of cut-glass peaks. That Tuscan hill town, with its labyrinth of stony lanes, enoteche, trattorie, and gelaterie. That quaint thatched-roof village, at some misty fringe of the British Isles, that tempts you to pull the ripcord on the rat race and permanently join the cast of characters at the local pub. That Norwegian fjordside hamlet, with its red-and-white boat sheds on skinny stilts watching over a vast, still, contemplative fjord.
Digging into a special place for a long stay, you have the deeply rewarding experience of getting to know every last intimate detail. You begin to recognize locals, and they begin to recognize you. You memorize each scenic bend in the footpath. You detect subtle differences in the taste of coffee or pastries from one place to the next… and settle on your favorite. You notice the nuances in the weather from one day to the next, becoming adept at armchair meteorology.
But the reality is, we don’t always have that kind of time, or money — especially Americans, who (as Rick Steves likes to say) have the shortest paid vacations in the rich world.
There’s a clear contrast among travelers: Americans go fast. Our journey to Europe is long, tiring, time-consuming, and expensive; our time off is limited; we want to make the absolute most of it. In fact, we find it’s tricky to sell tour itineraries that are more than two weeks long.
Two weeks? For Europeans, that’s a quickie beach break. European travelers, who prefer to go slow, are aghast — even offended — at how quickly I’m moving from place to place. Later on this fall’s trip, I spent just one night on the alluring Cycladic islet of Folegandros. Europeans — from the Greek man who ran my B&B, to the British tourists on the catamaran next to me — literally did a double-take upon hearing of my one-nighter. It left them stumped and stammering. And yet… I still had a blast, with what little time I had there.
Europeans figure, if a place is worth a day, then surely, it’s worth five or ten. But the fact is, most Americans don’t have the luxury of lingering. And if our choice is between seeing a place quickly, or not seeing it at all, many of us opt for the former.
There’s a certain traveler’s snobbery when it comes to those of us who move quickly. We’re looked down upon, as if somehow we’re “doing it wrong.” But rather than be embarrassed about going fast, embrace it. Cultivate the art — and the mindset — of having a satisfying visit on the go.
Try this thought experiment: Slow travel — lingering in a favorite place — is Realism or Romanticism, with its closely observed details and its precisely articulated details. Meanwhile, fast travel is Impressionism: Sloppy, quick brushstrokes that capture a unique, unrepeatable moment in time… a vivid impression that sticks with you. When you travel fast, you travel as an Impressionist. And sometimes, those dashed-off impressions carry the most emotional weight. After all, there’s a reason everyone loves Van Gogh and Monet.
This “leave wanting more” philosophy also allows us to practice several traits of a good traveler. It forces us to adopt a mindset of abundance, treasuring the fleeting moments we have with a place, rather than a mindset of scarcity, being pointlessly annoyed at the many “things we didn’t get around to.” The Impressionist traveler is constantly reminded of the value of spontaneity: You can’t get to everything anyway, so you become flexible…follow your instincts…go where the spirit moves you. And then, as you move on to the next place, you find yourself savoring those dashed-off-yet-indelible impressions.
§ § §
Driving out of Prizren, I suddenly recalled another time I left wanting more. A couple of years ago, I was part of the guide team who led the first-ever outing of our Best of Poland tour. We had painstakingly constructed that itinerary to balance time in the three great cities of Poland: Gdańsk, Warsaw, and Kraków. And, to offer tour members a chance to catch their breath in a smaller town, we included one night in delightful, red-brick Toruń, famous as the hometown of Copernicus and of Poland’s favorite gingerbread.
Toruń is insistently lovable. And, sure enough, our tour members fell for it…hard. We arrived in the mid-afternoon, checked into the hotel, gave them an hour or so to freshen up and/or explore, then did a brief walking tour on our way to a gingerbread-making demonstration. Everyone was on their own to find dinner and prowl the floodlit cobbles to their hearts’ content. The next morning, early risers had another shot at the town. And by 10:00, we were on the bus and underway to Warsaw.
As we pulled out of town, consensus (bordering on mutiny) quickly coalesced around the opinion that one night was nowhere near enough for Toruń. They wanted more, more!
I tried to articulate the same thought that struck me as I departed Prizren: Maybe they liked it so much, in part, because it was such a quick visit. It gave them just enough time to get an enticing taste of the town…a sense of place…to put it on their mental map. Part of it comes down to tour logistics, sure. But it’s also intangible: Some places simply work better as a one-nighter.
I have not dug deeper in Prizren; maybe if I did, I would find it merits another night, or more. But I have spent a good bit of time in Toruń. And from that experience, I know that what our tour group did there represents about 90% of what’s really worth doing. In other words, if we’d spent another night — or even just a few more hours — I’m sure the tour members would have enjoyed it. But maybe, just maybe, they might be surprised how quickly they’d reach a point of boredom… or even begin to wonder if this was really the very best use of their precious, limited time.
It reminds me of that old joke: Houseguests, like fish, begin to stink after three days. There’s an exceedingly fine line between “just enough time” and “too much time.” And based on experience, I’m confident about which side of that line I’d rather fall on.
I’ve often found this to be the case on a second visit to a place that intrigued me the first time: Yes, I enjoy having more time there. But in the end, the longer visit is often less impactful than the shorter one. In my traveler’s imagination, my mental painting of the place is more detailed…but I’ve sacrificed that sloppy, beautiful Impressionistic flourish.
Of course, this also requires a mindful approach to travel: Letting things be as they are. Embracing and fully appreciating whatever winds up on your itinerary, whether it’s a long stay or a short one. And accepting that sometimes, it really is OK — maybe even better — to leave wanting more.
Are there places where you’re glad that you “left wanting more”? Or do you think that fast travel is always bad travel? Share your thoughts in the Comments.
If you appreciate my approach to travel, consider picking up a copy of my memoir, The Temporary European: Lessons and Confessions of a Professional Traveler. This ideal stocking stuffer for the traveler in your life is currently on sale, for 20% off, as part of our Rick Steves’ Europe Holiday Sale. Thanks to all of you who’ve already read and enjoyed my book! I love hearing about your travel tales, too.
Beautifully said Cameron. I have had to make this exact choice many times and I always choose the quick visit (that is possible) vs. the impossible (at this point in my life) slow visit. Perhaps, one day.
The only complaint I have about your writing is that it draws me in and causes me to ponder what I just read. I literally read a couple of sentences, do something else to reflect on what I read and then go back to read a few more sentences and then reflect upon them and then go back to re-read what you wrote. I am normally a very fast voracious reader. Your articles are among a few exceptions where it takes me a couple of days to fully process what you’ve written. :)
PM1 — why do you complain about reading slowly and enjoying Cameron’s writing. Slow reading about fast travel….amusing comment. I prefer long stays, but appreciate Cameron’s knowledge as a ‘Professional Traveler’! Enjoyed his book very much.
Cameron answered my question as to why most tour companies (marketing to Americans) are only 2 wks! Thanks Cameron
Thanks to the many classes at Rick Steve’s in Edmond’s, we have successfully travelled to Europe 6 times independently. And on most of these trips we have stayed about 1 week in each city. (Because we are retired, we can be gone 5-6 weeks, and nobody notices.) We have found the cities we like best, London, Amsterdam, Vienna, to name a few, we got to immerse ourselves in and become “locals” for a week.
I am forever grateful to Rick and his messages on how to travel smartly.
When my daughter was studying in Tubingen, Germany, we had just a few hours to explore the town before driving back to Munich, which was our home base for the visit. Tubingen was extremely charming from its smallish Gothic church to its traditional old Town Hall in the Altstadt. The castle on the hill made for a picturesque, quintessentially medieval setting. I think if we had stayed longer, some of the charm may have worn off. That first impression leaves us with a very fond memory of a perhaps little known German gem.
Thanks Cameron, especially for lending merit to “fast travel.” Too often we feel the “traveler’s snobbery” and hear folks talk about we really haven’t been to “x” place unless you’ve done “y” – how ridiculous. We linger where we want and travel like an impressionist when we want, and love all of it.
A good perspective, Cameron. You have to deal the cards you’re given, which can sometimes mean brief stops whether you want them or not. Twice that situation has led to great travel experiences– both at tail ends of trips.
Mine were in Gorlice, Poland (connected to a relative thanks to our guide’s/driver’s efforts) and in Buenos Aires (about 24 hours available, and we managed to pick the right activities and sights, aided by rain making Recoleta Cemetery uncrowded).
Short stops can mean there’s not enough time for bad things to occur… or worsen.
Cameron, you struck the right balance – fast and slow are both wonderful. I like slow for exploring a museum, digging deep into the history that is reflected in architecture or general surroundings, a chance to follow-up on enticing fact/tidbits about past residents. Then it’s fast, fast to see notable sites, catch the street art, or try the local snack. Each day combines different pacing…I have to go slow when tired, and then I stop to smell the flowers or photograph a cat and sip a beverage.
What this raises for me is that I no longer am bothered if I visit a city or place and miss something that all my research says is highly important; if nothing else, I have an excuse to return some day. But being retired I can afford to spend 3 or 4 days in a place, and I need that much for it to sink in. There are exceptions: sometimes I’ll feel I “got the point” of the place in the first day and a half, and have to get inventive, do a day trip nearby, or just catch up on my reading.
I came here to say exactly this! Cameron’s blog makes me feel better about the MANY times I was forced (because of work appointments, a train schedule, or a travel plan that was too full :) to go quickly through an area or town/city.
In my retirement, I now have many places I am returning to! But there are also many places that I am glad I experienced the one time. Since we now mostly do fully independent travel and not tours…I, too, will now not feel guilty when I jam too much in!
My husband and I have been European travelers for about 14 years now. We try our best to be slow travelers, but it never seems slow enough. We’ve visited a city and loved it so much, we’ve returned and stayed put for 10 days to 2 weeks. Amsterdam, Budapest and London have been some of our favorites. We befriend hotel staff (not the owner or desk person, but the coffee/breakfast/bar tenders) for a local’s perspective on what not to miss. We’ve visited local libraries, walked neighborhoods tourists would never know existed, attended local concerts and even gone to movies. (Many are in English w/foreign subtitles) If you have the time, I highly recommend you try this – you’ll be glad you slowed down.
For me, the most important part of travel is to make sure I really soak in where I am and what I’m doing, rather than let my time in a place just casually slip by. That mindfulness is my definition of slow travel. I’d say that two thoroughly mindful days of being in Paris, really steeping in those street scenes at cafes and soaking in that art at museums, is much richer than a week of going around the city casually and not fully “being” there. I was once asked by someone who saw me standing for awhile in the bottom of a harbor in Cornwall, camera strapped around my neck and surrounded by “stranded” boats while the tide was out, if I was looking for pictures to take. I responded no, that I was simply taking it all in that I was standing in the bottom of a harbor surrounded by stranded boats. That to me is “slow” travel, no matter how much time I’m there.
Great article. Kudos. I guess life is all about perspective and it’s different for everyone. I had a tough week, and reading this article brought me joy. It reenforced that travel is personal and there is no right or wrong way to travel in terms of personal satisfaction. The mechanics of travel may be a little more mathematical but ultimately, it’s up to the traveler how they travel. I wish everyone enjoyable travels. Thank you.
Dresden.
It has so many sites, and so many regional places to visit as side-trips or day-trips (e.g. towards the Polish border by train) that you could spend a week of active touring and not run out of things to do. Day trip to Leipzig if you get bored.
Crazy note: there is a once-every-two-hours bus that links Moritzburg castle with Meissen, so you can do both of them in one day efficiently if you time it carefully.
We have enjoyed 20 RS tours over 17 years, with the first ones being a 2-week-vacation-time-frame. All the tours were fast travel and all of them gave us ideas for slow travel trips in the future. Retirement is here now and we are getting through that list of places we wanted to see again, usually for 4-7 days each. We have also found great towns nearby the ones we visited on tour and now have whole areas of several countrie that we love.
Both ways of travel have their charms but RS tours opened the doors to each for us. Thanks!
Btw. We just missed you on that first Poland trip. We were on the second one, guided by Tomasz.
What a great essay and caused me to reflect on overnights in beautiful cities such as Ljubljana, Liverpool, and Glasgow, where I dream of returning to one day soon. I would also consider Impressionist travel stops during a Baltic cruise several years ago to Tallin, Helsinki, and Stockholm that are on my Must Return list. Now that I have gotten a taste for these cities I am building up my Google Maps pinned list with sites less visited by tourists and can focus on enjoying the moment rather than seeing as much as possible.