In a world increasingly dominated by the pursuit of efficiency, where every minute is accounted for and squeezed for maximum productivity, the idea of slowing down seems almost radical. This is especially true when it comes to travel. Business travel, in particular, has long been synonymous with speed—quick flights, back-to-back meetings, a flurry of hotel rooms, and the tick-tock of a schedule so tightly packed it would make even the most organized person sweat. And that’s how I usually travel, whether it’s business or leisure. But there’s a new trend that’s starting to gain traction, one that challenges the very core of what we’ve come to accept as the norm: slow travel.
I approached slow travel with a degree of skepticism, I must admit. It struck me as a sort of naive romanticism, perhaps even a little indulgent. After all, who has the luxury to linger in one place when there’s a world out there to be conquered? And yet, as I spoke with those who’ve embraced this unhurried way of experiencing the world, I began to see that maybe—just maybe—there was something to it.
Impactful Inspiration: One woman’s love of slow travel
“Growing up in New Jersey and in the shadow of Manhattan, I had no idea you could take you time and enjoy life without feeling guilty.”
Enter Carol Wheatley, a 40-something office manager from New Jersey. Carol has always been a fan of travel, though her experiences were often crammed into long weekends or brief vacations between the never-ending demands of work. She would whisk herself away to Europe or South America, dutifully ticking off all the must-see landmarks as she went. But something about those trips always left her feeling a little… unfulfilled.
“I didn’t know it had a name,” Carol tells me, referring to slow travel. “But I always wanted to travel this way. I just never realized I could.”
It wasn’t until a recent trip to Cartagena, Colombia, that Carol fully embraced the slow travel ethos. With only her hotel booked, she decided to let the city unfold at its own pace, resisting the urge to plan every minute of her stay. On a whim, she decided to explore the literary side of the city, drawn in by the rich history of Gabriel García Márquez, one of Colombia’s most celebrated authors. She visited his home, felt the weight of his legacy in the air, and then, in a small, unassuming bookstore, purchased a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude.
“I spent the next two days sitting in various cafes around town, just reading,” she says, her voice tinged with a sort of reverence. “It was one of the most profound experiences of my life. I wasn’t just a tourist passing through; I felt like I was becoming part of the city, part of its story.”
It’s this connection to place, this rootedness, that Carol found so appealing about slow travel. Rather than rush from one attraction to the next, she allowed herself to sink into the rhythm of Cartagena, to let the city’s energy guide her. In doing so, she discovered a deeper understanding not just of the place, but of herself.
While Carol’s experience may sound idyllic, I wondered how this approach would fare for someone whose life and work are defined by speed and efficiency. Enter Sam Allen, a high-tech entrepreneur from Phoenix whose work often demands that he be in five places at once. Sam is the epitome of the fast-paced business traveler. He’s used to waking up in one city and going to bed in another, his days filled with meetings, pitches, and more coffee than any human should reasonably consume.
From Cynic to Convert
“I learned a lot about myself when I first had the confidence to slow down and travel with my thoughts.”
So when Sam decided to try slow travel on a recent trip to Thailand, he did so with more than a little trepidation. The idea of staying in one place for three weeks with an itinerary that was only loosely planned seemed, in his words, “a recipe for boredom.” But what he found was something entirely different.
“I thought I’d go crazy,” Sam admits. “But instead, I found myself… slowing down. I started to build routines. I found my favorite coffee shop in Bangkok, the one where the barista would start making my drink as soon as I walked in. I got to know the people in the neighborhood, the ones I saw every day. And it didn’t stress me out. It actually made me feel more connected, more present.”
For someone whose life is usually a whirlwind of activity, the simplicity of routine was a revelation. Rather than feeling the pressure to constantly move, to keep checking things off a list, Sam found peace in the familiarity of his surroundings. The city became less of a backdrop and more of a companion, its streets and sounds becoming as familiar to him as those back home.
“It wasn’t just about the places I visited,” he explains. “It was about the relationships I built, the sense of belonging that developed. By the time I left, it didn’t feel like I was leaving a place I’d visited; it felt like I was saying goodbye to a home I’d made.”
Hearing Sam and Carol describe their experiences, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. There was a richness to their stories, a depth that went beyond the surface-level experiences most of us associate with travel. It was clear that slow travel had given them something that traditional, fast-paced travel simply couldn’t.
But what is it about slow travel that makes it so powerful? Perhaps it’s the way it forces us to confront our own restlessness, to sit with the discomfort of stillness until it transforms into something more meaningful.
In a world that constantly demands more—more speed, more productivity, more everything—slow travel is a rebellion. It’s a refusal to buy into the notion that faster is better, that the only way to experience the world is by racing through it.
Instead, slow travel invites us to pause, to breathe, to truly inhabit the places we visit. It allows us to form connections that are deeper and more lasting, to see the world not just as a collection of destinations, but as a series of experiences to be savored.
As I reflect on my own skepticism, I realize that perhaps what I’ve been missing in my travels is precisely what Carol and Sam found: the space to let a place truly sink in, to let it shape me as much as I shape my experience of it. Slow travel, it seems, isn’t just a way of seeing the world; it’s a way of being in it.
So maybe, the next time I find myself booking a trip, I’ll take a page from Carol and Sam’s book. Maybe I’ll choose to linger a little longer, to let the world reveal itself to me in its own time. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from their stories, it’s that sometimes, the best way to travel is to stop moving altogether.
This story was written by guest author Steven Chase, a self-described travel curmudgeon. He submitted this work during a one week break in a small town near Yosemite National Park.
