I don't think slow travel means living like a local — that's impossible. Origin matters; it's what gives you the whole context of a life in a place. But I do think it means "seeing less" and "living more." I've traveled to see, but it's only when I immerse myself in a culture through what the people there actually live that I feel I truly belong to a place and to its people.
And it can be as simple as the definition itself: traveling slow means staying long enough to experience part of other people's lives. Travel fast and you'll probably only see — you fill your days with things to look at, not to live.
What you wrote here — "Maybe it's to notice what kind of visitor this place is asking me to be" — goes even deeper for me. It doesn't replace the original idea of slow travel; it completes it. You don't arrive with one fixed version of yourself. You let the place tell you who to be and how to participate.
If you ever need it — here's a Chilean, ready to give you the view from the inside.🇨🇱
I love this distinction between seeing less and living more. And I think you’ve articulated something I was struggling to get at: the place doesn’t just change what you experience, it changes how you participate.
And YES to the Chilean view from the inside! We’ll be spending quite a bit of time there early next year, so I may absolutely take you up on that. Thank you so much for weighing in. Your local perspective is invaluable. 💛
I’m passionate about traveling, and one thing I learned on the road was the generosity of local people who went out of their way to help me and share their world. So, if I ever have the chance to pay it forward, I’d be delighted. Welcome!
I love that. And I have a feeling we may take you up on it when we get to Chile! 😊 Some of our best travel experiences have started with exactly that kind of generosity from someone who simply wanted to share the place they love.
You asked what each place is asking of us, so here is the view from the other side of the table. Behind a counter you stop recognising the local by whether they blend in, because plenty of residents are rude and plenty of visitors are lovely. You recognise them by the second visit. Anyone can have a good first evening anywhere; what a place is actually asking of you is to come back on a Wednesday at lunch, when there is nothing to see and nobody is performing. That is also the honest answer to your apartment versus chalet problem: who owns it you cannot settle from a listing, but the return question you can answer with your own feet. And a practical note, since you are planning five months: the Wednesday lunch of a neighbourhood place appears in no statistic and on no review platform, because the people who go there do not review. If you want to know whether a district is alive, look at who has breakfast at seven, not at who dines at nine. In my trattoria in Milan that test has never once been wrong.
This test of a place is brilliant. And since we’re retired, we’re already big fans of a good off-peak meal! I’m absolutely going to start paying attention to who’s having breakfast at seven.
What else do you look for when you’re trying to tell whether a neighborhood actually has a life of its own? I’m choosing neighborhoods for five months in South America right now, so your timing couldn’t be better. Thank you!
I'm definitely on board with seeing less. If I'm there for a while and I don't see something this week, I can see it next week, or potentially any of the following number of weeks that I'm going to be around.
Yes! I love this part of staying longer. There’s such a relief in knowing you don’t have to do it today because there’s always next week. And sometimes, somewhere along the way, you realize you’re perfectly happy just being there.
Hi Kelly! I enjoyed this thoughtful essay, and like Erin, I enjoy how you flipped the question.
How can we be the kind of visitor that the place needs? Or even wants?
I totally relate to your comment that sometimes we just can't live like locals. We are too different. All we can hope for is to be good visitors, like the guests who leave their room clean and ready for the next ones. I am learning so much in my current remote island travels about people who live lives that I had never imagined. When we roll up and anchor off a tiny village in a remote bay, we might as well be aliens in a spaceship.
You are on the right track, blend in where possible, don't force it, recognize the distinction.
You've prompted some new thinking for my current essay topic - thank you!
I love this! You’re arriving in remote South Pacific villages by boat, so I think the “live like a local” ship has quite literally sailed.
We’ll run into a much milder version of that in South America. There will be places where it’s immediately obvious we’re visitors, and that’s fine.
I think in the end so much of this comes down to good sense: pay attention, read the room, be curious, be respectful. Although I’m increasingly realizing that “world sense” isn’t necessarily common sense. 😬
Thinking of aliens… This old Sting song started running through my head… The Duke might relate, “I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien, I'm an Englishman in New York “
I read an article recently absolutely slamming the tourist influx in a particular place, and it stuck with me. We have a responsibility to think about what our presence is doing to the communities we visit—not just what we hope to get from them.
I know you’re already one of the “good guys” 😊 but it’s really what started me down this rabbit hole.
Well, I do think about it. 😊 I also really like that our Nomad Life community is talking about how we can be better stewards as travelers and all the different ways we can support local inhabitants — supporting locally owned hotels & shops, hiring local guides, frequenting farmer’s markets, visiting local art fairs, making small donations. It’s easy (and more fun) once you get going!
Yes! I can’t imagine a trip without the local hangs. The neighborhood cafés, markets, little shops, local events… that’s usually where our favorite memories come from anyway.
I appreciate your honesty. I also find this to be an interesting question in a time where many countries are "turning away" tourists (either through news stories or crime, etc.) I think the goal should be to be a responsible and respectful tourist. And maybe not see the word "tourist" as a bad thing.
You’re right! I think about Barcelona, where “tourist” has practically become a slur in some conversations. Maybe part of this is reclaiming the word a little. There’s nothing inherently wrong with being a tourist. The question is what kind of tourist are you?
I see life as hundreds of little problems to solve - many of them automatically. E.g. I'm hungry... Solution... eat!
Of course, that problem has many sub-problems such as "Where? What? How much? Is it healthy?
That's what makes slow travel interesting...
The list of options is different everywhere you go, and you learn more options the longer you stay in a place.
But I'll never be mistaken for a local.
When I was at school in Scotland, they called me "Paraguayan Johnny" because I had lived in Paraguay.
When I was at work in Australia, they called me "Haggis" because I was Scottish.
I've often been accused of "being different just to be different." I think the truth is that where most people solve a problem one way because that is how they have always solved it, I choose between abundant options to see what will happen...
Of course... what happens may be disastrous, but surviving a disaster is usually fun.
In any case... living here in Ecuador 9000 ft above sea level, I can't possibly be confused with a local. Their faces are a different shape, and I can't speak Spanish like a local.
I carry a 7 ft staff with me to help me up and down the mountainsides. I've had a six-year-old child help me up a place that was too steep for me even with the staff.
I've watched a mother with her baby strapped to her back run down an embankment just like the Gurkhas do. I preferred to take several minutes to work my way gradually down it, using the staff for support all the way.
They know that I'm not a local, so nobody expects me to "live like a local".
Oh, I'd love to offer you hospitality on your SA trip, but I'm living in one room just now, with a bathroom and dishwashing areas outside across the patio. It's an interesting set of options to adapt to, but it doesn't lead to hospitality.
I’m so intrigued by your response, Ian. Every place you’ve lived seems like another little piece of fabric knitted into this beautiful quilt that has become you.
And I’m a firm believer that nicknames are a sign of true friendship and respect. 😂 I’ve been Ned Kelly in Australia and Texas in Ireland, so Paraguayan Johnny and Haggis both made me laugh.
The picture of you working your way down the mountainside with your staff while a mother with a baby strapped to her back runs past you is so vivid. I can absolutely see it.
I’d love to stop by your hut, but sadly 9,000 feet is too high for me. We’d hoped to spend some time in Quito on this trip, but I think we’re going to skip it and hang out in the Galápagos on our way through Ecuador instead.
Thank you for the offer of hospitality, though. It sounds like you’re having quite an adventure up there! 💛
Interesting insight here. My strategy has always been simply to blend in and live. Do the the things that people actually do on a daily basis. My motive has always been to explore the sensation of what it actually feels like to live/be there, no matter how unglamorous. I don't choose my accommodation based on how cozy or luxurious it is. I don't do much planning. Most of the time, I bought a one way ticket and vowed to "figure it out" when I got there, just talking to people and listening for things that sounded interesting to me in that moment. There is simply no "right way", as far as I can tell, but that's how I personally prefer to do it.
I love this—and I think your last sentence is where I’m landing too. There probably isn’t one “right way.” I’m much more of a planner than you are (a one-way ticket and “figure it out” might break me 😂), but I’m realizing that all my planning should leave enough room for the place itself to have some say in what happens once we get there. Thanks for sharing how you do it!
Of course! I'm looking forward to reading more of your work. I am new to Substack and have been enjoying the articles I am seeing. Keep doing what you do!
That’s so kind of you—thank you CJ! And welcome to Substack. 😊 I’ve found some of my favorite writers and conversations here in places I never would have expected. I hope you have the same experience!
"What kind of visitor does this place need" -- I need to think about that one for a little while. Perhaps it is less about finding the hidden gem and more about just showing up without an agenda. Harder than it sounds for a lifelong over-planner for sure.
I’m better than I used to be at not over-planning… but still probably more than the average bear. 🤷♀️
The tricky thing with travel is that you do have to plan enough to find the right kind of place—or at least know what to avoid. I’ve already had Substackers warn me about neighborhoods in South America where foreigners really aren’t welcome. So I’m learning there’s a difference between showing up without an agenda and showing up completely clueless.
I’ve been describing us as nomads, but even that doesn’t fit as well as I’d like it to. We’re not traveling as slowly as I’d like, because the Schengen rules and the distance to Europe, combined with our age and health, make it unlikely that we’ll cover this territory more than once and we want to make the most of it. For now, we’re visitors or travelers; we go to some of the touristy sights but stay mostly in apartments so we can cook for ourselves. No one would mistake us for locals, but we’re quiet, just absorbing our surroundings.
Last week, in Glasgow, we were walking near George Square when we heard a very loud American accent and turned to see a middle aged guy yelling down the street to his female companions about something he had seen. We commented to each other that he’s the sort that gives tourists a bad name; if he’d been wearing Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, he would have been a stereotype.
We just try to be courteous travelers, and eventually we hope to stay longer in each place we “try on for size.” That will be easier in Latin America, where we can stay in each place for a month or more.
Not surprisingly, I think we may be traveling very similarly. We’ve struggled with what to call ourselves too. “Nomad” has never quite felt right, and even “slow traveler” is relative depending on where we are and how long we can stay.
We’re heading to South America for five months next, and I’m really looking forward to having more of those month-long stays where we can settle in a little.
And I laughed at the loud American story because Nigel and I do exactly the same thing—we hear one of our countrymen booming across a restaurant and immediately start whispering.
“Courteous travelers” may be the best description of all 💛
I agree with what some others have said here, that it is not possible to truly 'live like a local'. But you can certainly pretend. Meaning that you buy stuff in local markets, do your best with the language, and shun the more expensive touristy options for buying or doing anything, just like the locals are bound to do. You can't avoid all of it, but you can make a dent.
Yes! I think “make a dent” is exactly right. We’ll never actually be locals, but we can shop where people shop, attempt the language, pay attention to how things work, and participate in ordinary life.
And I’m increasingly convinced there’s nothing wrong with being a tourist when the place actually needs tourists. I’m trying to get better at noticing the difference. 😊
This is such a lovely piece and you've received a handful of amazing comments, all of which make a lot of sense -- basically about who you want to be when you travel rather than who you think you should be perceived to be.
But I'm gonna sidestep all that and ask why any of this matters when your man appears to be a cross between Bradley Whitford and Jeff Goldblum. ;) ;) ;)
That’s hilarious! I actually had to Google Bradley Whitford, but of course I recognized him immediately.
Now I need to know whether your assessment still stands after seeing Nigel in his French alter ego, Henri. When he first grew the beard, I was encouraging him to aim more Clooney/Brosnan 😂
Hahahaha. Yeah, it stays, though it leans a bit more Whitford than Goldblum, who seems to be more angular looking. Still debonair though, so, y'know...
I really enjoyed your article! Personally I’ve never really tried to “live like a local” when I travel. Who am I trying to fool? Certainly not the actual locals, they know I’m foreign from a mile away. Except for maybe Sweden I kind of looked like I belonged there. I stayed in a villa in Provence for 7 nights this summer and that’s the longest I’ve ever been in one place on a trip. Slow travel to me is if I get to fully unpack my suitcase and hang my shirts up in the closet!
Yes, the “On Holiday” part of your Substack handle may have given you away! Although honestly, sometimes our features give us away long before anything else does. We usually stay at least a month, and I do think we start trying on the local look a little—or as much as we can anyway.
Faster travel is really hard for us to sustain when we’re traveling for five months at a time. But I still love a good holiday! 😂
Thanks so much for reading, Kayla. I loved your take on this.
I don't think slow travel means living like a local — that's impossible. Origin matters; it's what gives you the whole context of a life in a place. But I do think it means "seeing less" and "living more." I've traveled to see, but it's only when I immerse myself in a culture through what the people there actually live that I feel I truly belong to a place and to its people.
And it can be as simple as the definition itself: traveling slow means staying long enough to experience part of other people's lives. Travel fast and you'll probably only see — you fill your days with things to look at, not to live.
What you wrote here — "Maybe it's to notice what kind of visitor this place is asking me to be" — goes even deeper for me. It doesn't replace the original idea of slow travel; it completes it. You don't arrive with one fixed version of yourself. You let the place tell you who to be and how to participate.
If you ever need it — here's a Chilean, ready to give you the view from the inside.🇨🇱
I love this distinction between seeing less and living more. And I think you’ve articulated something I was struggling to get at: the place doesn’t just change what you experience, it changes how you participate.
And YES to the Chilean view from the inside! We’ll be spending quite a bit of time there early next year, so I may absolutely take you up on that. Thank you so much for weighing in. Your local perspective is invaluable. 💛
I’m passionate about traveling, and one thing I learned on the road was the generosity of local people who went out of their way to help me and share their world. So, if I ever have the chance to pay it forward, I’d be delighted. Welcome!
I love that. And I have a feeling we may take you up on it when we get to Chile! 😊 Some of our best travel experiences have started with exactly that kind of generosity from someone who simply wanted to share the place they love.
You asked what each place is asking of us, so here is the view from the other side of the table. Behind a counter you stop recognising the local by whether they blend in, because plenty of residents are rude and plenty of visitors are lovely. You recognise them by the second visit. Anyone can have a good first evening anywhere; what a place is actually asking of you is to come back on a Wednesday at lunch, when there is nothing to see and nobody is performing. That is also the honest answer to your apartment versus chalet problem: who owns it you cannot settle from a listing, but the return question you can answer with your own feet. And a practical note, since you are planning five months: the Wednesday lunch of a neighbourhood place appears in no statistic and on no review platform, because the people who go there do not review. If you want to know whether a district is alive, look at who has breakfast at seven, not at who dines at nine. In my trattoria in Milan that test has never once been wrong.
This test of a place is brilliant. And since we’re retired, we’re already big fans of a good off-peak meal! I’m absolutely going to start paying attention to who’s having breakfast at seven.
What else do you look for when you’re trying to tell whether a neighborhood actually has a life of its own? I’m choosing neighborhoods for five months in South America right now, so your timing couldn’t be better. Thank you!
I'm definitely on board with seeing less. If I'm there for a while and I don't see something this week, I can see it next week, or potentially any of the following number of weeks that I'm going to be around.
Yes! I love this part of staying longer. There’s such a relief in knowing you don’t have to do it today because there’s always next week. And sometimes, somewhere along the way, you realize you’re perfectly happy just being there.
Hi Kelly! I enjoyed this thoughtful essay, and like Erin, I enjoy how you flipped the question.
How can we be the kind of visitor that the place needs? Or even wants?
I totally relate to your comment that sometimes we just can't live like locals. We are too different. All we can hope for is to be good visitors, like the guests who leave their room clean and ready for the next ones. I am learning so much in my current remote island travels about people who live lives that I had never imagined. When we roll up and anchor off a tiny village in a remote bay, we might as well be aliens in a spaceship.
You are on the right track, blend in where possible, don't force it, recognize the distinction.
You've prompted some new thinking for my current essay topic - thank you!
I love this! You’re arriving in remote South Pacific villages by boat, so I think the “live like a local” ship has quite literally sailed.
We’ll run into a much milder version of that in South America. There will be places where it’s immediately obvious we’re visitors, and that’s fine.
I think in the end so much of this comes down to good sense: pay attention, read the room, be curious, be respectful. Although I’m increasingly realizing that “world sense” isn’t necessarily common sense. 😬
Thinking of aliens… This old Sting song started running through my head… The Duke might relate, “I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien, I'm an Englishman in New York “
The Duke certainly remembers and played it for me. Now it’s in my head today. Thank you 😆
Hahaha, it was in my head all day yesterday 🤣
It’s only fair…
So so true my friend.💙
Loved how you've flipped the question, Kelly! 🙌 I, too, am looking at how I can better center the communities we're visiting as I travel.
I read an article recently absolutely slamming the tourist influx in a particular place, and it stuck with me. We have a responsibility to think about what our presence is doing to the communities we visit—not just what we hope to get from them.
I know you’re already one of the “good guys” 😊 but it’s really what started me down this rabbit hole.
Well, I do think about it. 😊 I also really like that our Nomad Life community is talking about how we can be better stewards as travelers and all the different ways we can support local inhabitants — supporting locally owned hotels & shops, hiring local guides, frequenting farmer’s markets, visiting local art fairs, making small donations. It’s easy (and more fun) once you get going!
Yes! I can’t imagine a trip without the local hangs. The neighborhood cafés, markets, little shops, local events… that’s usually where our favorite memories come from anyway.
I appreciate your honesty. I also find this to be an interesting question in a time where many countries are "turning away" tourists (either through news stories or crime, etc.) I think the goal should be to be a responsible and respectful tourist. And maybe not see the word "tourist" as a bad thing.
You’re right! I think about Barcelona, where “tourist” has practically become a slur in some conversations. Maybe part of this is reclaiming the word a little. There’s nothing inherently wrong with being a tourist. The question is what kind of tourist are you?
I make no attempt to "live like a local."
I see life as hundreds of little problems to solve - many of them automatically. E.g. I'm hungry... Solution... eat!
Of course, that problem has many sub-problems such as "Where? What? How much? Is it healthy?
That's what makes slow travel interesting...
The list of options is different everywhere you go, and you learn more options the longer you stay in a place.
But I'll never be mistaken for a local.
When I was at school in Scotland, they called me "Paraguayan Johnny" because I had lived in Paraguay.
When I was at work in Australia, they called me "Haggis" because I was Scottish.
I've often been accused of "being different just to be different." I think the truth is that where most people solve a problem one way because that is how they have always solved it, I choose between abundant options to see what will happen...
Of course... what happens may be disastrous, but surviving a disaster is usually fun.
In any case... living here in Ecuador 9000 ft above sea level, I can't possibly be confused with a local. Their faces are a different shape, and I can't speak Spanish like a local.
I carry a 7 ft staff with me to help me up and down the mountainsides. I've had a six-year-old child help me up a place that was too steep for me even with the staff.
I've watched a mother with her baby strapped to her back run down an embankment just like the Gurkhas do. I preferred to take several minutes to work my way gradually down it, using the staff for support all the way.
They know that I'm not a local, so nobody expects me to "live like a local".
Oh, I'd love to offer you hospitality on your SA trip, but I'm living in one room just now, with a bathroom and dishwashing areas outside across the patio. It's an interesting set of options to adapt to, but it doesn't lead to hospitality.
I’m so intrigued by your response, Ian. Every place you’ve lived seems like another little piece of fabric knitted into this beautiful quilt that has become you.
And I’m a firm believer that nicknames are a sign of true friendship and respect. 😂 I’ve been Ned Kelly in Australia and Texas in Ireland, so Paraguayan Johnny and Haggis both made me laugh.
The picture of you working your way down the mountainside with your staff while a mother with a baby strapped to her back runs past you is so vivid. I can absolutely see it.
I’d love to stop by your hut, but sadly 9,000 feet is too high for me. We’d hoped to spend some time in Quito on this trip, but I think we’re going to skip it and hang out in the Galápagos on our way through Ecuador instead.
Thank you for the offer of hospitality, though. It sounds like you’re having quite an adventure up there! 💛
Interesting insight here. My strategy has always been simply to blend in and live. Do the the things that people actually do on a daily basis. My motive has always been to explore the sensation of what it actually feels like to live/be there, no matter how unglamorous. I don't choose my accommodation based on how cozy or luxurious it is. I don't do much planning. Most of the time, I bought a one way ticket and vowed to "figure it out" when I got there, just talking to people and listening for things that sounded interesting to me in that moment. There is simply no "right way", as far as I can tell, but that's how I personally prefer to do it.
I love this—and I think your last sentence is where I’m landing too. There probably isn’t one “right way.” I’m much more of a planner than you are (a one-way ticket and “figure it out” might break me 😂), but I’m realizing that all my planning should leave enough room for the place itself to have some say in what happens once we get there. Thanks for sharing how you do it!
Of course! I'm looking forward to reading more of your work. I am new to Substack and have been enjoying the articles I am seeing. Keep doing what you do!
That’s so kind of you—thank you CJ! And welcome to Substack. 😊 I’ve found some of my favorite writers and conversations here in places I never would have expected. I hope you have the same experience!
No problem! I am happy to be here. And yes, so far the experience has been eye-opening in a meaningful way
"What kind of visitor does this place need" -- I need to think about that one for a little while. Perhaps it is less about finding the hidden gem and more about just showing up without an agenda. Harder than it sounds for a lifelong over-planner for sure.
I’m better than I used to be at not over-planning… but still probably more than the average bear. 🤷♀️
The tricky thing with travel is that you do have to plan enough to find the right kind of place—or at least know what to avoid. I’ve already had Substackers warn me about neighborhoods in South America where foreigners really aren’t welcome. So I’m learning there’s a difference between showing up without an agenda and showing up completely clueless.
I’ve been describing us as nomads, but even that doesn’t fit as well as I’d like it to. We’re not traveling as slowly as I’d like, because the Schengen rules and the distance to Europe, combined with our age and health, make it unlikely that we’ll cover this territory more than once and we want to make the most of it. For now, we’re visitors or travelers; we go to some of the touristy sights but stay mostly in apartments so we can cook for ourselves. No one would mistake us for locals, but we’re quiet, just absorbing our surroundings.
Last week, in Glasgow, we were walking near George Square when we heard a very loud American accent and turned to see a middle aged guy yelling down the street to his female companions about something he had seen. We commented to each other that he’s the sort that gives tourists a bad name; if he’d been wearing Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, he would have been a stereotype.
We just try to be courteous travelers, and eventually we hope to stay longer in each place we “try on for size.” That will be easier in Latin America, where we can stay in each place for a month or more.
Not surprisingly, I think we may be traveling very similarly. We’ve struggled with what to call ourselves too. “Nomad” has never quite felt right, and even “slow traveler” is relative depending on where we are and how long we can stay.
We’re heading to South America for five months next, and I’m really looking forward to having more of those month-long stays where we can settle in a little.
And I laughed at the loud American story because Nigel and I do exactly the same thing—we hear one of our countrymen booming across a restaurant and immediately start whispering.
“Courteous travelers” may be the best description of all 💛
I agree with what some others have said here, that it is not possible to truly 'live like a local'. But you can certainly pretend. Meaning that you buy stuff in local markets, do your best with the language, and shun the more expensive touristy options for buying or doing anything, just like the locals are bound to do. You can't avoid all of it, but you can make a dent.
Yes! I think “make a dent” is exactly right. We’ll never actually be locals, but we can shop where people shop, attempt the language, pay attention to how things work, and participate in ordinary life.
And I’m increasingly convinced there’s nothing wrong with being a tourist when the place actually needs tourists. I’m trying to get better at noticing the difference. 😊
This is such a lovely piece and you've received a handful of amazing comments, all of which make a lot of sense -- basically about who you want to be when you travel rather than who you think you should be perceived to be.
But I'm gonna sidestep all that and ask why any of this matters when your man appears to be a cross between Bradley Whitford and Jeff Goldblum. ;) ;) ;)
That’s hilarious! I actually had to Google Bradley Whitford, but of course I recognized him immediately.
Now I need to know whether your assessment still stands after seeing Nigel in his French alter ego, Henri. When he first grew the beard, I was encouraging him to aim more Clooney/Brosnan 😂
The photographic evidence is here: https://thebenthalls.substack.com/p/the-day-my-husband-became-henri
He’s a handsome devil either way, but I have to admit I’m particularly partial to Henri. 🇫🇷
Hahahaha. Yeah, it stays, though it leans a bit more Whitford than Goldblum, who seems to be more angular looking. Still debonair though, so, y'know...
I enjoy your sub, so forgive the razzing. :)
Are you kidding? Razzing is my love language… You made my day (and Nigel’s) 💛
oh good!!
I really enjoyed your article! Personally I’ve never really tried to “live like a local” when I travel. Who am I trying to fool? Certainly not the actual locals, they know I’m foreign from a mile away. Except for maybe Sweden I kind of looked like I belonged there. I stayed in a villa in Provence for 7 nights this summer and that’s the longest I’ve ever been in one place on a trip. Slow travel to me is if I get to fully unpack my suitcase and hang my shirts up in the closet!
Yes, the “On Holiday” part of your Substack handle may have given you away! Although honestly, sometimes our features give us away long before anything else does. We usually stay at least a month, and I do think we start trying on the local look a little—or as much as we can anyway.
Faster travel is really hard for us to sustain when we’re traveling for five months at a time. But I still love a good holiday! 😂
Thanks so much for reading, Kayla. I loved your take on this.