What Have You Stopped Doing on Holiday?

There are things I was perfectly prepared to tolerate at 22 that I now consider a violation of my basic human rights. A flat pillow for this side sleeper is one of them.

At 22, I could sleep on a hostel mattress approximately four centimetres thick, sharing a room with six strangers, the bass thumping from the bar downstairs, with a tiny thin pillow and someone’s wet towel hanging over the end of my bed. There may be a touch of exaggeration there — I’d never have stood for someone else’s towel — but you get the drift.

Now? I would like bed linen that’s not bobbly, no more than three people sleeping in my room, solid water pressure, and bathroom amenities that aren't a 3-in-1 body wash–shampoo–conditioner combo, thank you very much.

I’ve been spending considerable time lately working on itineraries, especially Culture to Couture: The European Style Edit, and all the little touches we think our Tribe would really enjoy. It’s made me start a mental list of things we have happily said goodbye to. Call it age, call it maturity, call it high standards. I prefer to call it reasonable expectations.

We no longer wear uncomfortable shoes for the sake of the outfit.

Actually, that’s a lie. I absolutely do. But they are either worn in a curb-to-cab situation or I carry another pair in my bag.

We no longer stay miles out of town because the hotel is $40 cheaper.

When you’ve spent half your holiday getting to and from the place you actually wanted to be, you realise that location is one of the things worth paying for. I want to step out of my hotel and feel like I’m in Paris. Or London. Or Mumbai. I don’t want to spend 35 minutes in a vehicle looking at the outskirts of it. Show me a city with beautiful outskirts and I will sleep on that flat pillow.

We no longer feel compelled to see EVERYTHING.

This might be the biggest one.

Once upon a time, going somewhere meant ticking off every sight listed in the guidebook we lugged around. If there were 14 ‘must-sees’, we were going to see all 14 of them. I’m thinking of one day in Washington DC circa 2009 in particular.

Now, and especially when designing a tour, I think one extraordinary experience, a good lunch, and an afternoon wandering somewhere interesting can be a very good day indeed. So can an evening spent catching up on your favourite show in a hotel robe.

We no longer eat somewhere mediocre just because it has a famous view.

Give me the tiny restaurant around the corner where somebody’s grandmother is making something magnificent. Although if the food is magnificent and there’s a view, obviously I’m taking the table.

We no longer pretend that a 5.30am start is fun.

Sometimes it’s worth it. Sunrise over somewhere extraordinary? Absolutely. Sometimes it’s necessary — particularly if leaving early means we don’t waste the best part of the day getting from A to B.

But there had better be a very good reason.

We no longer think free time is wasted time.

This one has become increasingly apparent to me as I’ve been working on our 2027 tours.

A few hours with nowhere you have to be can be one of the best parts of travelling — even if you have to fight the urge to fill every day.

Go back to the shop you spotted yesterday to confirm if you really do love that patchwork coat enough to buy it and lug it home through another four destinations and six flights (true story — didn’t buy it). Sit at a café. Have a nap. Wander. Find something we could never have put into an itinerary because we didn’t know it existed. Or do absolutely nothing.

Again, you are on holiday. And it’s your holiday.

We no longer confuse luxury with expensive.

Sometimes luxury is a beautiful hotel. Sometimes it’s private access to somewhere extraordinary.

Sometimes it’s having someone brilliant show you a city they know inside out. And sometimes it’s getting into a car at the end of a very long day and discovering someone else has already worked out how you’re getting home.

Luxury, increasingly, is ease.

And we no longer travel as though we have something to prove.

Perhaps that’s really what all of this comes down to. We know ourselves better now.

We know that some of us want to see every room in the museum and some of us will be in the gift shop within 20 minutes. We know that one woman’s idea of heaven is a five-course tasting menu and another’s is chips and a margarita by the pool. We know when we want adventure, when we want indulgence and when we just want someone else to have thought about the details.

And maybe getting older has given us the confidence to stop travelling the way we think we should and start travelling the way we actually want to.

I think that might be one of the great privileges of this stage of life.

So now I want to know:

What have you officially stopped doing on holiday?