When it comes to traveling, I like a plan. Actually, that’s putting it lightly. I really like a plan.
If there is a reservation to be made, I want it booked.
If there is a train to catch, I’d prefer to arrive early.
If there is a museum I want to visit, I’ve probably already looked up the hours, read reviews, and saved the location to a map, weeks in advance.
Planning makes me feel prepared. Prepared makes me feel comfortable. And for a long time, I thought that was the best way to travel. Then something interesting happened.
The more I traveled, the more I realized some of my favorite memories weren’t part of the plan at all. They happened when I missed a turn and discovered a beautiful street I wasn’t expecting. They happened when I stopped into a restaurant because it caught my eye when walking by and not because I saw other people rave about it on social media. They happened when I woke up without my alarm and wandered wherever felt right. In those moments, I wasn’t following an itinerary like I normally would, I was leaning into the patience one needs to have while traveling.
That’s not to say I’ve suddenly become a carefree traveler who books flights at the last minute and figures everything out when I arrive. Not even close. I still enjoy researching destinations and making plans. I still feel a small sense of satisfaction when I arrive early to a reservation, almost like I won. But I’m learning there is a difference between being prepared and being rigid. On a past trip to Denver, I wanted to visit Red Rocks Park & Amphitheatre. Everything had been planned, but for some reason things just weren’t working out. I was late to waking up, fell behind on getting the rental car, and the time I hoped to get to the amphitheater was much later than I had hoped. I wanted to live in the frustration, but decided to lean into the patience and continue forward. Funny thing, the day still ended up as I wanted and that was fine by me.
For years, I treated travel like a checklist. If I wasn’t maximizing my time, I felt like I was wasting it. Every hour needed a purpose. Every destination needed a plan. Now, just like in Denver, I’m trying something different. I’m practicing patience. It’s the patience I need to have when a train is delayed when a restaurant has a wait, or when I don’t immediately know what comes next. I’ve learned this is important for me because some experiences need room to breathe and space to find you. Travel isn’t just about seeing new places. It’s about learning new ways of moving through the world and it’s safe to say that many times, patience is required. And for me, I have to learn to loosen my grip a little even if it doesn’t come so naturally.
With that, I’m understanding more and more that not every moment has to be scheduled. I’m believing that getting somewhere ten minutes later rarely changes anything. And I’m accepting that wandering just a little bit longer can be just as valuable as arriving early. It’s not easy, but the more patient I’ve become while traveling, the more I seem to enjoy it. Sure the initial stress is still there, but as I calm myself down it starts to fade and the pressure disappears. And what’s left is the reason I travel in the first place: the opportunity to experience something new.
These days, I still make plans, but I just leave a little more room between them. And sometimes, when the patience kicks in and the exploration continues is where the best memories are waiting.
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