Kinda embarrassing, but I was scrolling through old photos and realized I have almost zero real memories from like half the places I’ve been. Prague, Budapest, Amsterdam, Barcelona… I know I went, I have the pics, but I couldn’t tell you one thing that actually stuck. I was just country-collecting three days here, two days there, hit the top sights, move on. It all blurred into the same squares, same museums, same rushed “wow nice” moments that evaporated by the next airport.
Iceland was the first time I slowed down. Two weeks, barely planned anything, took a tour only when I felt like it. I still remember random stuff a guide showing us her favorite hidden spot, eating a gas-station hot dog watching the sky, deciding one morning to literally do nothing. Way more stayed with me than all those quick trips combined.
Feels like I spent so much of my twenties speedrunning Europe and ended up with proof I went… but not much else. Anyone else have regrets about rushing everything instead of just being present?
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