On Saturday, Mark and I leave for Europe.
We’ve been planning this trip for a while. Switzerland. Italy. Austria. Travelling mostly by train, and then ten days of cycling from Salzburg to the Adriatic.
Planes. Trains. Bikes. Boats. Hotels.
You know.
A vacation.
Over the past couple of weeks, I started doing my deep dive – asking questions about what makes each place unique.
Things like:
- What is the unusual story here that most tourists would never uncover?
- What might we walk right past if we didn’t know to look for it?
- What food and drink are unique to this region – or were created here?
- Is there anything completely ridiculous, or some useless piece of information about the place, that I would find interesting?
That last one may have been the problem.
Suddenly, I’m not just figuring out what we might do in Zermatt. I’m reading about a kitten that apparently climbed the Matterhorn.
And I’m not just looking for restaurants. I want to know why we should eat something there.
Why that dish?
Why that wine or beer?
Down the rabbit hole I go.
As I was doing this, I realized this is the way I like to travel.
I don’t really want to do more.
I want to notice more.
There is a difference.
I don’t need to race around checking fifteen things off a list so I can say I’ve seen them. Anyone can take a picture of the Eiffel Tower – been there, done that!
I’d rather notice the tiny thing on a building that has a story behind it.
Or go to the local farmers’ market to experience the sights, sounds, smells, unique foods and, of course, people-watch.
And yes, sometimes I want to know something completely useless.
Especially then, actually.
Because those are the things I remember.
So I started collecting all of this.
The stories.
The food.
The strange little details.
A few practical things.
The cycling stuff.
Places we might want to explore.
None of these things have been added to an itinerary as something we must do. They’re just options if we’re curious. Or if we suddenly realize one of Debbie’s rabbit holes is nearby. 🤣
And then, somehow, this afternoon I found myself apologizing to Mark because the travel document I made for us is now…
94 pages long.
Ninety-four pages.
For a vacation.
I messaged him and apologized for going overboard.
His response:
“Not at all. It is much appreciated.”
And then he told me he was sitting there reading it.
So apparently I have found my audience.
Population: one.
😂
I’m curious to see whether the travel book – full of UFI (Useless Fucking Information) – resonates with Mark. I’m curious to see whether we find it useful on our journey.
Or will it just be too much?
Or not what we like?
I don’t know.
That’s kind of the fun of it.
I totally expect that one of those completely unnecessary bits of information will send us down an alley, into a café or toward something we never would have found otherwise.
Bosna, anyone?
We leave Saturday.
The 94-page document is coming with us.
And when we get home, I’ll let you know whether all those rabbit holes helped us notice more…
or whether somewhere around Day Four, Mark quietly throws the whole thing off a mountain.
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