In our hyper-connected world, travel has frequently devolved into a frantic exercise in ticking boxes. We rush from one landmark to another, peering through our viewfinders to ensure we have the perfect digital proof of our presence, often at the expense of actually being present. In response to this aesthetic of speed, the ‘Slow Travel’ movement has gained traction. It advocates for a more profound engagement with a single location, encouraging travellers to forgo the checklist in favour of a deep, unhurried immersion in the local culture and rhythm.

Slow travel is not merely about the mode of transport, though taking a train across a continent is certainly more evocative than a budget flight. Rather, it is a state of mind. It is about staying in one neighbourhood long enough to recognise the local baker, or learning enough of the language to have a meaningful conversation with a stranger. By decelerating, we allow the serendipitous moments – the ones that never appear in a guidebook – to unfold. It is only when we stop trying to see everything that we finally begin to see something of true value.