What I Learnt About Myself When I Decided to Slow Travel
A few months ago, as my flight to somewhere expensive and exotic took off, I had an epiphany. I wanted to slow travel. I was tired shuffling around, ticking things off my travel bucket list. Humans went from having to slow travel, to indulging in it as a privilege. Today, the experience of it is as exquisite as taking a Hamam Spa in Turkey or sitting in a Swedish sauna. My epiphany stemmed from wanting to do something new.
So I booked a slow, quiet weekend getaway to a Tiny Tenpy home in Bangalore. My mission: to learn the art of "slow travelling," which, as it turns out, is not just a fancy term for running late to catch a train. On this novel and petrifying weekend, I learned quite a few new things about myself.
Lesson 1: The loudness of tranquillity
Upon arriving at my rustic abode on a Friday evening, I was immediately struck by the sheer absence of traffic noise. No honking, no sirens—just the distant hoots of an owl who, I assume, was the unofficial forest traffic controller. It took me a solid half-hour to adjust to the ‘tranquillity’ - a sound we city-dwellers complain about not having enough of. Was I just supposed to listen to my own thoughts about how I had no thoughts? I decided to play some music and eventually fell into its rhythm - swaying and realising that the quiet was not that uncomfortable. Then, I annoyed my friends for a while before hitting the hay. Hey, I’m not perfect!
Lesson 2: The Lost Art of Map Reading
Ah, Saturday! But surprisingly, no honking? The sun's rays hit my face and I was immediately transported to a Disney fairytale. Hey, we don’t make the rules! So after a breakfast of really yummy, steamy dosas, I decided to go hiking into the forest. Maybe talk to a bird or two? Fast travel is all about Google Maps, taxis and instant navigation. Slow travel? Well, it's a throwback to the days when maps weren't apps but pieces of paper that did not tell your current location. My attempt at map reading resembled a comedy sketch—the map was right, I was left, and the destination was probably wondering where the heck I was. A cow stared at me wondering if it should follow me just so I don’t get lost. But I let the forest path guide me into the wilderness and all was well.
Lesson 3: When in Doubt, Eat
Fast food and I were inseparable, like peanut butter and jelly. Slow travel, however, introduced me to the concept of leisurely meals. I'm talking about three-hour lunches, multiple courses, and conversations that outlasted the dessert menu. I spoke to the chef, the caretakers and even the farm animals. It felt good to talk about something that wasn’t work and to someone who wasn’t ‘from work’. I ate hearty meals and napped like a bear going into hibernation.
The gift of nature, movement and fulfilling meals are ones we’ve been taking for granted. The noise of the city made me dislike the much-needed quiet of the forest. I forgot to check my step-count and still managed to score 20k! Lastly, even though things slowed down, my brain sped up, taking me from one creative thought to another. I even managed to not think about work! Slow travelling made me uncomfortable, but in the discomfort, I discovered a new me - someone who didn’t NEED a shot glass in her hand on a Friday night, someone who could overcome her discomfort and someone who likes long, lazy weekend brunches.
