Slow Travel: Why I Spent Six Weeks in One Village

The itinerary was empty. The wifi was terrible. It was the best trip I've ever taken.

We rented a small stone house in a village of 340 people, three hours from the nearest airport. For the first ten days I was restless—checking my phone, checking maps, checking anything.

By week three I knew the baker's schedule. By week five the postman waved at me by name. Travel, I realized, isn't a checklist. It's a slow accumulation of ordinariness in a place that isn't yours.