There was a time when planning a holiday felt like managing a project. Spreadsheets, timetables, a running list of sights I absolutely had to see. Before we even left the driveway, I'd be anxious — had I packed everything? Would we arrive on time? Could we squeeze in one more stop? I genuinely believed that the more thorough my planning, the better the trip would be.
I was wrong. By the time we actually set off, I was already worn out. Chasing the perfect vacation didn't make me happier — it quietly robbed me of the chance to enjoy anything spontaneous.
The moment I realized perfection is an illusion
Over the past few years, my mindset has shifted — slowly at first, then quite decisively. I realized that when I try to control every single moment of a trip, I lose the very thing I'm traveling for: freedom.
These days, my goal isn't for everything to go according to plan — because honestly, it almost never does. Instead, I focus on how I actually feel during the trip. Can I be present? Can I slow down and appreciate what's right in front of me?
I never imagined that by my early thirties, something as simple as a hike without knee pain would feel like a gift. But life has a way of teaching you to value what you once took for granted. I'm genuinely grateful for that shift in perspective.
Intentional planning — without the grip
Full spontaneity isn't really my style either, and that's okay. I've found a balance that works. I usually pick a summer destination as early as January — not because I'm anxious, but because it gives me something to look forward to, and booking early genuinely opens up more options at better prices.
The difference now is that I give the trip a loose shape, not a rigid script. There's a direction, but there's also room to breathe.
Packing: less stuff, more trust
My suitcase used to resemble a survival kit — packed on the principle of "what if I need this?" Now I take a much lighter approach.
The mindset shift was simple but powerful: almost everywhere I travel, there are shops. If I forget something or unexpectedly need it, I can buy it. A vacation doesn't become great because you've prepared for every possible scenario. It becomes great because you're not weighed down — literally or figuratively.
Eating with food sensitivities — awareness instead of anxiety
As someone with gluten and dairy sensitivities, eating while traveling used to be a genuine source of stress. More than once, a "this should be fine" decision led to consequences that were, to put it mildly, unpleasant.
Now I handle it differently. I research ahead of time, read other travelers' experiences, and if a restaurant seems uncertain, I simply don't risk it. I'd rather eat something I've brought along — and yes, I always travel with backup snacks now.
It also helps that more and more stores abroad stock reliable free-from products. That alone has made traveling so much easier.
Weather: from enemy to ally
Rain used to ruin my mood entirely. Too hot? The day was "ruined." A cloud in the wrong place? Frustrating.
These days, I plan with the weather in mind rather than against it. I think about what suits a sunny afternoon, and what would actually be lovely on a rainy one. An unexpected downpour becomes an excuse for a slow afternoon. A sweltering day becomes the perfect reason to find a shaded terrace and linger over an iced lemonade.
The weather hasn't changed. My relationship with it has.
My real goal: being present
The biggest shift of all is that I no longer measure a trip by how many boxes I've ticked. It's not about how many sights we visited or how perfectly the itinerary held together.
It's about the small moments. A quiet coffee in the morning. Laughing at something silly mid-walk. Stumbling onto a beautiful street that wasn't on any map. A moment where I simply feel good — and notice that I do.
Those are the moments I actually remember.
Giving myself permission to slow down
I've learned that rest doesn't just happen. You have to allow it.
If I'm tired, I don't push on just because "we could fit in one more thing." If I need to stop, I stop. I sit down. I order a coffee or a cold drink. I watch the world go by. I do nothing — and I've made peace with the fact that this is not only acceptable, it's the whole point.
Not perfect — just real
The perfect vacation is a beautiful idea that almost never survives contact with reality. There will always be small delays, unexpected hiccups, minor inconveniences. And maybe — just maybe — that's exactly what makes a trip feel genuine.
This year, I'm not looking for a perfect holiday. I'm looking for a lot of small moments that remind me it's good to be alive.
