I Travel Rarely, But I Travel Deeply!

I keep telling people I like slow travel, but most of the time it feels like an escape because let's face it, I am not able to travel at all right now. Even this piece, I am writing from a neighbourhood cafe, pretending I am on vacation. 

I so want to travel more. All the time. I think about it constantly. Random places, random food, random streets I’ve never walked on. And then I look at my life and it’s work, responsibilities, deadlines, and this constant feeling that I’m postponing myself for “later”. So when I see people my age moving cities, picking up hostel jobs, travelling without overthinking it, yeah, burns real bad bro. Sometimes more than I’d like to admit.

Somewhere, I also feel that, along the way, travel has become a scoreboard for people. How often do you go. How many places you’ve been to. How stuffed your Instagram looks. I don’t do very well in that version of travel. Not because I don’t love it, but because travelling fast makes me anxious. I don’t enjoy waking up in a new place, already stressed about leaving it. I don’t like counting days. I don’t like feeling like I’m late everywhere, even on a trip.

What I’ve noticed, and this keeps repeating itself, is that whenever I do travel, something shifts. Not in a dramatic, life-changing way. I just slow down. I complain less. I stop trying to maximise every moment. I’m okay sitting somewhere longer than planned. I start noticing stupid little things like how people talk to each other, what time shops actually open, and what locals eat when no one’s watching.

And that’s when travel starts feeling real to me.

I’ve tried the checklist style. I’ve rushed through places, clicked the photos, eaten at the “must-visit” spots, and moved on. And later, when someone asked me how that place was, I realised I had nothing honest to say. I’d been there, sure. But I hadn’t really been there. The memories that stay with me aren’t the highlights — they’re the pauses. The repetition. The moments where nothing special was happening, but I felt oddly present.

Slow travel isn’t always comfortable. That part doesn’t get talked about enough. When you stop rushing, things catch up with you. Loneliness shows up sometimes. So does boredom. You start noticing your own reactions. You are impatient, uncomfortable, and curious, instead of hiding behind movement. But that’s also when you learn things. About places, yes, but also about yourself.

I’m not against tourists. I’m not trying to sound like I’ve figured something out. Everyone travels the way they can, at the pace their life allows. This is just me admitting that fast, frequent travel doesn’t work for me, even though I sometimes wish it did. Travelling rarely but deeply wasn’t a confident decision. It’s something I arrived at after a lot of comparison, guilt, and trying to be someone I’m not.

World Is Local comes from this exact tension. Wanting to live slowly in a life that moves very fast. Wanting to experience places deeply while still being stuck in routines that don’t allow it often enough. I don’t have a clean answer yet. I’m still figuring it out, and some days I get impatient with myself.

But I know this much...
When I do travel, I don’t want to skim the surface anymore. I want to stay long enough for a place to stop feeling new. And for me to stop pretending that I have it all sorted.

Maybe that’s enough for now.